The Long Night that Changed the World

by Aldwright

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Sex, Twilight Sparkle, Profanity, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Other, Lyra, Drama, Original Character, Mystery
Length: 24059

Two weeks after "the Long Night", a Coltchester stallion moves to a Cloudsdale provincial village to apprentice for an all but retired legal celebrity. Reuniting with his coltfriend, he's promised safety, though a "very unsafe" pony is now "safe"...

It is a gloomy age for the Equestrian Realm.

The annual Summer Sun Celebration on 21 June, 1444, was a dark day in history when the sun did not rise for a full day, the craters forming the "Hench in the Moon" disappearing without warning. The Equestrian Royal Guard, bolstered in recent years because of a global arms race, responded by implementing martial law. Many think the mythical Black Knight returned to bring a horrific apocalypse, only to be defeated.

Etheigh Holright, a Coltchester stallion who just received his pre-law degree, is scared like everybody else. Her Radiant Majesty's Office in Canterlot has been completely silent as to what happened. The Royal Guard is still enforcing martial law two weeks later. Most importantly for Etheigh, however, is that he has been without his coltfriend, Gorthy Eldwrit, who protects his safety.

That has changed. He has received clearance from the Ministry of the Interior to travel, as he had previously planned, from Coltchester to Ponyville, a small village in Cloudsdale Province that was unexpectedly chosen to host the year's Summer Sun Celebration. There, he can reunite with Gorthy, and pursue his legal aspirations by apprenticing under Tall Order, a renowned lawyer who has "retired without retiring" in the village.

When he comes, however, his sense of "safety" is shaken. Gorthy resides in a community of artists that he says are "safe" for Gorthy, despite some members making him feel "unsafe". Moreover, Gorthy tells him the new village librarian is "safe", and when Etheigh meets her, he finds out she's a friend from college, that Gorthy had insisted for the year Etheigh knew her to be "extraordinarily unsafe"...

Content warnings, ordered by prominence in the Long Night:

Abusive relationships - This mostly includes economic, emotional and psychological abuse in romantic, parental, and other relationships, and such abuse of those with disabilities. This is a main theme of the Long Night that begins in the very first chapter.

Some violence - There are certain important points at which serious acts of violence take place, and when characters are injured, but the Long Night does not go into massacres or explicit details.

Some profanity - Profanity is occasionally used in the Long Night, though its use is mostly "when a character feels it appropriate", rather than "casual".

Some sexuality. Despite early chapters taking place during heat season (a common premise for many a spicy story), sexuality is far from central to the Long Night, and is, at worst, vaguely alluded to or implied in short sections.

Published 2020-12-27 22:50:00 UTC
Last updated 2020-12-27 22:50:00 UTC

Part I, Chapter 1: The Tour

Hēafodweard, Sē Fyresta: Sē Rundgang

Eth,

I’ve got great news! Thy to-be mentor managed to get through to the Ministry of the Interior, and get thee cleared to travel on the 6th of July to Ponyville on the 5:00 A.M. train (I know, I know. Thou canst always get some sleep on the train.)

Like everypony else, I wit not what’s going on outside. I hope Coltchester was safe two weeks ago. █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

I’d been waiting six months to see thee again, Ethy, and now it’ll be six and a half months. Please come soon. I like not thee alone ████████.

Love,

Gorthy

A young, tan-coated, brown-maned stallion, covered with a red mask over his muzzle and all manner of deep red and dark clothes angrily huffed, scowling at the blackened redactions in the letter through his reading glasses. This was completely unconstitutional. Completely. Unconstitutional. The Royal Guard didn’t have the power to monitor anypony's, much less everypony’s communications without a judicial order. They certainly lacked the power to censor them. Even if some infringement was justified since two weeks ago, he couldn’t think of a single word his coltfriend could possibly say that posed a security threat. But nope, they just went ahead and censored it anyways.

Typical Royal Guards. Everything they don’t like automatically marks you as guilty. And ponies used to tell him “the military’s better than the police units”.

The train came to a halt, and he shoved the letter into his saddlebags. At the train exit, a unicorn Royal Guard, still stood as stoic and unmoving as when they had departed Saddle Lake about an hour before. Were it not for the occasional blink behind a visored helmet draped in camouflage cloth, whose pattern matched the train's wooden browns and metal blacks, he might have thought that the figure was a statue. It was already difficult to see their magically-whitened coat, after all.

“Everypony,” a voice crackled through the magical speakers. “The train has arrived at Ponyville station. Passengers whose authorized destination is here may exit the train in an orderly manner when the Royal Guard opens the doors. Please have documentation proving your identity ready to be provided to the platform checkpoint.”

He rolled his eyes. This was the definition of security theater. They had already checked all passengers’ identification when they boarded. The idea that somepony could sneak onto the train was moot when Royal Guards were monitoring every last inch. He was scared like everypony else, but this was a waste of the resources the Guards should be using elsewhere. Even if the image of the burnt-down Prefecture Building of Her Radiant Majesty in Trottingham had been seared into his mind earlier that day as he gaped in horror from inside the station while waiting to transfer.

On the bright side, though, it was heat season. Not because he was out looking for a mare to get him, or had a marefriend. No, the Guards wouldn't give him trouble about not showing his talent mark. He had every right not to under the Realm Cultural Rights Act of 1393. He doubted that, were this all happening another time of the year, the Guards would care about forcing him to humiliate himself in public. It was impossible to single him out, though, when everypony was wearing clothes to keep a level of decency he, as a good Coltchesterite, thought they should have year-round.

How anypony felt no shame with everything being out to see, much less comfortable with everypony seeing their talent mark, he would never understand. Barring, of course, Her Radiant Majesty, whose form alone was such a paragon of equinity that it was an insult to clothe her.

He made sure his seasonal mask was nice and tight so he didn't get hit by any pheromones, and waited until everypony else had gotten up and in line to exit the train. Only then, he rose, turned his head, levitated (with effort) his saddlebags onto himself, and walked over to the end of the line. He didn't like having to wait behind everypony else, but... That was the safe thing to do.

He got stuck behind some mint-green unicorn mare, and once again checked his mask was tight. Figuring this was going to take a bit, he decided to strike up a conversation with her. She looked, or, at least, he hoped she looked safe enough. “Good Lady,” he greeted. Normally, as a good Coltchesterite, he would bow his head for a stranger mare, but it was heat season, and thus impolite (much less unwise) to do so when behind them. “What is your name?”

The mare glanced back, meeting him with yellow eyes. “Oh, I’m Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings.” A bit unusually, she was wearing a seasonal mask, though it sounded like she was smiling. Like many mares at "that time of the year", there was a slight flush to her. “And you are?”

“My talent name is Holright, Lady Heartstrings,” he answered.

She slightly cocked her head. “...Any reason you’re specifying your name is your talent name?” With that accent, she had to be from Canterlot. He would have asked her what was going on in the capital city, if she knew anything about what had happened, or if Her Radiant Majesty's Office had said anything about two weeks ago. Yet, with the Royal Guards watching, that was bound to spark trouble.

“I come from Coltchester, good Lady. We only use our talent names on the job.”

“Ah, right. I have a friend who studied there for a year.” She shook her head. “No offense, but I have no idea how she or any of you feel remotely comfortable using birth names.”

“None taken. We pride ourselves on being one of the few to hold to tradition.”

Her snort was overpowered by a little chime over the speakers that led to the Royal Guard at the train exit issuing instructions. “Please keep in an orderly, single-file line,” he mechanically stated. “If you have any luggage, you will have to proceed, upon clearing the checkpoint, to your left to the station where Guards are inspecting your things.”

The train door opened, and the Guard stepped aside. “Long rise the sun! Long live Her Radiant Majesty!” He didn’t know how many times he had heard Guards say that normally rare, ceremonial phrase over the past two weeks. Every time it was said, though, he became just a bit more inclined to believe the terrifying whispers a few made, fearing that there had been a “change in government” in Canterlot. Not that he would ascribe such a tyrannical action to Her Radiant Majesty - merely whoever might have, in this horrifying thought, claimed to speak for her.

It took a bit for the line to file out, but by the end, he was standing between the train platform and train car, the doors surrounding him. The basic wooden platform was split by fencing between the train and the wall of the station building, whose door lay open, some ponies having already entered. Fencing on the right side of the platform ensured that the only way in or out was through the building. Looking through the window, he could see a Royal Guard standing behind a desk, inspecting somepony's saddlebags.

“So, what brings you to Ponyville? I was uh...” She looked behind him at the Royal Guard in the car. “...I’m coming here to be with my marefriend.”

A slight sense of panic entered him. The safe, careful thing to do would just be saying “personal business”. The less anypony knew about him, the safer he was. But he wanted to believe...

“...I’m here to read law under Councilpony Tall Order,” he answered. That was probably the most public thing he was going to be doing here anyways, given the past two weeks.

“Read law?”

“Be his apprentice, so I may become a lawyer in time.”

The line moved ahead a pony, and when he exited, the train door shut. “Legalpony, then.” He nodded guardedly. “I’m a musician, though I’m going to be helping Bonnie with her sweet shop. You should come by some time.”

Thankfully, he didn’t have to fake a smile. Only fake the sound of one. “Uh, yea. I’ll have to see... It.”

I hope Gorthy agreeth ’tis safe. That she’s safe.

“A University of Coltchester graduate who will associate with a Canterlot graduate?” she gasped.

He furrowed his brow, then exasperatedly groaned. “Oh no, not a hoofballer fan...”

“Heh, heh, heh...” she snickered. “Don’t you worry. I don’t care about hoofball, much less University of Canterlot hoofball. Particularly since I didn’t go there.” She didn’t go to the University of Canterlot, and was a Canterlot graduate? That didn’t make sense... His eyes widened. Lyra coughed, “Yeah, I try not to outright say it, but... Her Radiant Majesty’s Royal Academy for the Talented is my alma mater.“

Her Radiant Majesty’s Royal Academy for the Talented? And she was coming to almost-no-name Ponyville?

He would have demanded to know why she was here, but he recognized it was at least for partly the same reason as he was. He didn’t know of any acclaimed musicians who lived in this small village, though.

“Lyra!” The feminine voice out beyond the fence startled him. The unicorn immediately turned to his right, finding a cream-colored terran waving a bare hoof at her. In a completely unreal display, Lyra didn’t demand to know why this mare who apparently knew her was so grossly insulting her in public. Instead she raced over to the fence, leaning her hoof upon it, tears welling in her eyes. “Lyra, I-I’ve been so worried-!” The terran began to move towards the other side of the fence.

“Ma’am, please return to the street, and refrain from conversing!” A Guard standing by the station building on the other side of the fence took a single step towards her. The terran's ears completely fell flat, and she backed away immediately. “You will be able to reunite after the passenger has cleared inspection.”

Completely forgetting the obscene gesture, he, along with everypony else leaving the train, stood and gawked at that Guard. Even more when not a single Guard told him to, as a well-mannered Coltchesterite would say, fuck off. Even though a well-mannered Coltchesterite would have the patience to not even shout out in the first place.

This was Equestria, right?

The realm ruled by the just, peaceful hoof of Her Radiant Majesty?

He had not crossed some international border?

Lyra stood there, watching her marefriend scurry back out of sight, her jaw unbound from her skull. Eventually, when a couple of ponies had cleared the checkpoint, she silently turned and came back to the line. There was no conversation after that point. Just falling and moving ahead in line like a good little herdling. It dripped ice upon his back to think it was not because she (at least in his limited judgement) was unsafe.

It took maybe ten or fifteen minutes before the line had moved enough that he was inside the building, and Lyra got through the checkpoint, taking up her saddlebags and slowly exiting the station. Through a window, he watched her cautiously approach the other mare, and hesitate to embrace her. Even if the act of public embrace was undignified for a good Coltchesterite, that unsettled him.

He caught sight of a blue-coated, red-haired unicorn standing in the plaza, bringing him to ease. At least he was but moments away from being in safe, caring hooves again. The two nodded to one another.

“Sir. Identification and saddlebags.” The Royal Guard behind the desk, a pegasus, caught his attention. Well, time for yet another dance of security to be performed in front of nopony but two other Royal Guards. All three of them, he knew, had that stonecold expression that they had to spend months drilling into them and every other Guard.

“Talent name is Holright,” he stated. “Date of birth is the 11th of February, in the year 1420, home province Coltchester. I’m here due to a change in residency and occupation.”

The Guard nodded, and the unicorn turned so he could lift up his cloak. Keeping his eyes fixated on the point of his arcane focus, he slid out the passport and gave it to the Guard. He looked it over wordlessly as the unicorn turned and, to the best of his ability, moved his saddlebags onto the desk as if nothing was amiss. The Guard hooved back the passport, and started looking through the rest of his things. “You’re cleared, Mr. Holright.”

After taking another moment to put back his passport, he watched the Royal Guard sift through his things with trepidation. “What’s with all the legal materials?” The Guard lifted out a textbook with his wings and paged through it.

“I’m here to study law under Councilpony Tall Order.”

The Guard continued looking through his things, but the unicorn didn’t say a word. He knew it wasn’t safe nor wise to try to speak with a Guard at this moment. The Guard went through almost everything without a meep, leading him to prematurely allow relief to wash over him. Then, when the Guard was digging through a folder, he stopped and pulled out a notecard.

“What is this, Mr. Holright?”

“I-I’m sorry?” he stammered.

The Guard placed the notecard in front of him. “This notecard has writing in another language. What does it say, Mr. Holright?”

A notecard with writing in another language? What was he talking about...?

Fare wel med þīnre foredōmgradan, Hālriht!

A memory whose happiness, after years, now inspired a confused discomfort floated past his mind’s eye. He still had this? He thought Gorthy had gotten rid of these ages ago.

“’Tis but a parting memento from an old friend,” he answered. “It saith in Old Equish ’Good luck with thy pre-law degree, Holright!’”

“Why is it in Old Equish?”

“We used to study for Old Equish classes together.” He hoped this would be over soon. He didn’t like thinking about this. It was bound to lead down a road of carelessness that, ultimately, would lead to him being unsafe.

The Guard grunted, and put the notecard back. In short order, the saddlebags were packed back up, and, in a bit longer order, they were back on him. “You’re cleared, Mr. Holright.” The Guard stamped, and stood at attention. “Long rise the sun! Long live Her Radiant Majesty!”

Shifting uncomfortably, he headed for the door. A bit too stressed, he decided to hoof it open. Trotting down into the small plaza in front of the station, he allowed himself a smile under the cover of his seasonal mask, and a slight skip in his step. The blue unicorn, as to be expected, remained standing exactly where he was, though he could swear as he drew closer he saw the clench of the eyes indicating a smile. When they had come within hoof’s reach, the two bowed their heads, briefly touching horns.

“‘Tis good to see thee, Gorthy,” he sighed.

“I’m so happy to see thou’rt safe, Etheigh.” The two lifted heads. Etheigh’s heart swelled at the sight of Gorthy’s red eyes. They, despite their contrast with the lavender blue coat and yellow mane, always felt like the completing part of the stallion. “I’ve already been scared for thee. Worried that something would happen because I wasn’t there. And then, two weeks ago...”

Gorthy paused. For the briefest of instants, those eyes latched onto a Guard, holstered sword peeking out from beneath a cloak matching the greys of the road and the light tans of the “terran settler”-style housing. He looked back at Etheigh. “...Come along. ‘Tis a bit of a trot to the house, but I can show thee much of the village.”

“Alright.” Etheigh grinned. He always liked to believe he’d inculcated a strong sense of skepticism towards the Guard in Gorthy. He seemed to distrust them even more. Probably because the only thing protecting Etheigh from a Guard was his mouth, and not also his horn.

The stallion waved a hoof, bidding him to follow. “I must warn thee, Etheigh,” he began to advise. “Ponyville is a place where clothes only come out for heat or formalities.” Wonderful. Just wonderful. The odds had been right. He was going to be living with nudists, like half of the places in this grand realm. “My advice for when the time cometh, Etheigh, is to focus on faces. I was told ‘imagine everypony’s clothed’, and that, unsurprisingly, did nothing.”

Etheigh chuckled with Gorthy. Nevertheless, he started to respond, “Focusing, too, is easier said than-”

Gorthy abruptly stopped, and leaned into Etheigh. “There’ll be enough nudity later, hm?” Gorthy breathed into his ear.

Lurid thoughts briefly entertained his mind. Blushing, he replied in a low voice, “Gorthy, we’re in public...”

“And because we’re dignified and clothe ourselves, I can always whisper sweet nothings in thine ear without anypony being the wiser.” Gorthy trotted off, tauntingly fanning his tail up and down once with a smirk. “Come,” he repeated.

His face feeling like it was on fire, he hurried up. To cool off, he regarded the buildings around them. An unexpected, but welcome surprise was that, so far as Etheigh could see, buildings were whole and unharmed.

“Oh, if anypony offereth their bare hoof up to thee, ‘tis not an insult.”

“What?”

“If anypony offereth their bare hoof to thee...” Gorthy gestured for them to turn right after they reached an intersection. “‘Tis not an insult.”

That was a nonsensical statement. “Thou’rt jesting.”

As if to prove Gorthy right, a grape-colored mare waved their bare hoof at him. He waved his horseshoed hoof back. Etheigh gaped. “Nay, I jest not.” He shook his head. “I wit. ‘Tis mad.”

He began trotting again, and Etheigh followed, shaking his head too. First the nudity. Now bare hooves not being one of the most insulting gestures. This was going to be a wonderful place. Hopefully Tall Order was more sane.

“Makest any new friends while I had to wait for thee to graduate?” Etheigh’s ears slightly fell. Gorthy hadn’t liked that Etheigh hadn’t crammed classes together so he could graduate early like he did.

“Nay...” he responded. “Nay, I wasn’t too sure anypony was safe.”

“Hath not stopped thee from befriending unsafe ponies before.” His ears drooped further. He was a careless pony, for somepony with his problems. “From conversing with that unicorn.”

“I know...” Trying to think of something that would make Gorthy happy, he offered, “...I figured thou’dst know the safe ponies here anyways.”

“That I do.” He gestured for them to stop, and he pointed towards a great tree emerging from the cobblestone. In a rather beautiful way, a building had been carved out from it. A sign out front read “Golden Oaks Library”. "The new librarian, who I hope will stay, is one of them.”

A librarian? “Who is...?”

Etheigh then noticed that the library had no less than six Royal Guards stationed in front of it. He could not quite make out where they were looking, as their visors, like every other Guard he had seen, were down. Nonetheless, he could feel them gazing upon him and his coltfriend with suspicion.

Gorthy glanced back. “...Thou wilt see.”

He started trotting off. Etheigh was curious, but it was probably not the best place to talk about it, given that Gorthy was choosing to continue onwards.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that thou wast mostly not acting careless without me.” That made Etheigh happy. If Gorthy was happy, Etheigh was happy. Everypony was happy.

“Thanks.” Etheigh smiled.

“We’re coming up on the market here.” The two trotted into an open square where shops of all sorts lined the edges. He got the feeling that there being only a few ponies out (barring another twelve Royal Guards, six of whom were stationed outside a house on the northern end), as was the case, wasn’t normal. “I think thou shouldst be okay, but I’d prefer I come with thee.” He pointed down a road to their left - in the distance, a large building loomed. “There’s the village hall I’m sure thou’lt be working in, once it is reopened.”

He gestured to a small dirt road to their right. “This way.”

They began trotting towards a small bridge over a river, a Guard stationed on either side. After they crossed, he pointed down a road to their left. “Down thataway is the Ponyville School.” In the distance, he could see a building topped by a bell. “Yonder after that is Sweet Apple Acres - the home of the Apple cartel.”

He didn’t need to be reminded. That was about one of three notable facts about Ponyville. This was where the monopoly on apples all across the realm got its start. He was an adamant believer in the market, but the Apples at this point needed to have their hold broken up.

The second notable fact was the Everfree Forest, which made Etheigh massively uncomfortable. The terrans who settled this place had been mad enough to settle right on the edge of the Everfree, even if it had been granted to them by royal charter. Nevertheless, if Gorthy thought it was safe for him here, it was safe.

The third... Well, Etheigh supposed that was technically conjecture.

They trotted past a few houses. “Where’s thy passport?” Gorthy asked.

“Why, wantest to keep it again?” Gorthy liked to keep a hold of important documents like that. Just in case somepony tried to rob Etheigh. It was the safe thing to do.

“Yea, I would. Alas ‘tis needed for the checkpoint up ahead, and with all the Guards... I’ll let thee keep it for now.”

“Left inside pocket of my cloak.” Without even looking, Gorthy lifted his cloak and withdrew the booklet.

“Take it.”

“I, um, can’t right now...” Gorthy stopped, looking at Etheigh. His ears wilted a bit. “I, um...” He scuffed the dirt road with his hoof. “I’ve been really stressed, I think, and I can’t focus as well.”

Gorthy put it back in Etheigh’s cloak pocket. “Very well.” He placed a consoling hoof on him. “That’s okay, Etheigh. Thou’rt not a bad pony for thy horn.”

He smiled, nodding. Etheigh’s mother didn’t like his horn. Gorthy, though, only cared about what it meant for Etheigh’s own safety. Especially after that one time Etheigh got... Beat up in high school.

The two started down the road. Quickly, they approached the rail line, where Guards had defensive positions. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Trottingham, being little more than a couple of walls made up of logs, but it still provoked that sense of antagonism and fear in Etheigh.

“Good day, Lieutenant!” Gorthy trotted ahead. “I told you my coltfriend was coming today, and here he is!” The Guard he had approached was not clad in the military uniforms pervading even this small village, but “just” a basic set of grey metal armor that police units used in the rare event of a serious public disturbance. Unlike the soldiers, his visor was currently up, and the lack of the white-coat uniform enchantment revealed a terran with a brownish-pink coat. It was mad that Etheigh felt less anxiety around policeponies than soldierponies.

“Hey there!” the Lieutenant waved. “If ya could just please give me some identification, I’ll let you through.”

“What’s your name, good Lieutenant?” A reflexive instinct kicked in in Etheigh. Always get policeponies’ names.

“Ah, I’m Lieutenant Bulwark Hold.” Wow, he just gave that away without any questions. One of the exceptions.

“Alright.” Etheigh came to a stop in front of him, turning his head to get out his passport.

“I’m fine with Bulwark, though.” Etheigh immediately looked up, eyes slightly narrowing. The terran chuckled, “Only reason I’m wearin’ my armor is because, well...” Etheigh got out his passport, for some reason deciding to use his hooves. Gorthy frowned, but didn’t say anything. He gave it to the terran, who seemed a bit surprised. “You can handle that thing with your hoof like a terran?” He set the passport on the ground and began paging through it.

“...Yea.”

The terran chuckled, then gave the passport back. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a unicorn who can do that.” He stuffed the passport back into his cloak. Gorthy frowned more. The terran stepped aside. “Go right on through. Long as you got the cloak and you say your name, nopony’ll ask you for this again. Here, anyways.”

What was his game? Royal Guards didn’t act like that.

Gorthy started off, and Etheigh followed. “Thank you, good Lieutenant.”

Walking down the path, which led through a treeline, Gorthy waited to flatly state, “...I’ve nothing to say about thee doing that.”

“Gorthy-”

“I’ve told thee.” The unicorn stopped and pointed at Etheigh. “Using thy hooves leads to ponies asking questions about thy horn. Judging by how thou didst that, this hath not been the only time thou’st done it recently.”

He really hadn’t thought he had. He couldn’t recall doing it. Maybe two weeks ago, he... Ah, there was no point. “Sorry.”

“I’m just trying to help thee, Etheigh. The only pony to apologize to is thyself.”

Yeah, he was right. He needed to be more careful. “Okay...”

They went through the treeline. “Worry not too much about everypony who lives in this little community of ours,” he pointed ahead. “I know each and every one of these ponies, and they’re safe.”

“I’m still surprised thy Society sponsors thy artist community. It must have cost a fortune to pay for this.”

“Part of the bill’th been paid by the mayor.” He stopped and pointed back towards the main village. “Executive Action, or, as everypony here calleth her, ‘Mayor Mare’, hath made her career off of attracting investment in Ponyville. When she heard somepony with ties to an estate in Coltchester, much less everypony else, wanted to come...”

Well, he didn’t know any politician who would deny that. After clearing the trees, the road led up a slowly-rising hill. Eight houses, of noticeably different architecture than the rest of Ponyville, sat upon it. The best comparison he could make was a combination of the architecture of Coltchester with Classical era architecture, combining red brick with angular, dark wood. Interesting choice.

“We live right up on the tippy-top of this hill.”

That top house, however, was pure Coltchester, through and through. From the brick walls to the looming black roof, it felt like he hadn’t gone too far from home.

As they went up, a bright yellow mare came out of one of the houses, clothed in some fashion he didn’t really recognize. The closest thing he could liken it to was the armor of the Celestian Guard - there were alternating shades of purple and yellow that scaled down from her head and along her back, almost completely covering a pink mane. Beneath those “scales”, what looked like a mural of the sun eclipsed by the moon emanated from them, though rays of sunlight continued shining. It would have been strangely beautiful but weeks before. Now, it inspired a strange, haunting sense of optimism in Etheigh.

“Good afternoon, Age Talker!” The mare waved at Gorthy’s direction. Etheigh sought out anypony else in the community, but nopony else was around.

“Who-?”

“Good afternoon to thee, Steel Shaper!” Gorthy trotted over to her, gesturing for Etheigh to follow.

“Why is she calling thee ‘Age Talker’?” Etheigh quietly asked.

Gorthy didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he trotted up, and gestured a hoof at the mare. “Steel Shaper, this is my coltfriend from Coltchester I’ve been telling thee about.”

The mare’s eyes widened. “Oh, hello there! We’ve heard so much about you!” Etheigh could hear the beaming upon her face.

Wow, Gorthy must have really trusted these ponies, to talk to them about him. Respectfully, as to any mare, he bowed his head. “Good Lady,” he greeted.

“‘Good Lady’!” the mare giggled. “Remember when you used to call me that, Age Talker?”

“Yea, good Lady.” The mare laughed. He pointed a hoof at Etheigh, then at Steel Shaper. “Etheigh, in this little artist community of ours, we all call each other by a pen name. ‘Tis a statement that we determine who we are, and not even our talent marks.”

What? Gorthy had more respect for tradition than he ever could. That he would now not insist on being called by either of his names seemed... Extremely strange. Then again, everypony seemed to have changed in the past two weeks alone.

“...I have not to take a pen name, do I?” Etheigh asked uncomfortably.

Gorthy immediately shook his head, glancing at Steel Shaper in the type of way he warded off unsafe ponies. Didn’t he just say- “No, no, Etheigh. Unless thou plannest on becoming an artist.”

Etheigh rolled his eyes at his coltfriend's teasing. “I’m interested in law, Gorthy.”

Steel Shaper winced. “Thou canst call her by her talent name, Yarn Ball. The pen names are for us.”

Something wasn’t sitting right here with Etheigh...

...

...but, Gorthy said they were safe.

“Alright, Lady Yarn Ball.” The mare giggled again.

“...Hey, Etheigh, canst thou go up ahead to the house?” He looked at Steel Shaper/Yarn Ball. “I need to talk to Steel Shaper about something for a moment.”

He nodded, starting up the road.

“Hē is mīn...” Gorthy started talking unintelligibly. Probably making use of his Old Equish classes. That... Oh, that was why he called himself “Age Talker”. Because he could talk in “the Ages”, as it were. He wondered why he was talking to that mare in Old Equish, much less what he was saying.

When he got up to the top, he took a good look over the house. The glass pane windows were draped with curtains of what looked like Her Radiant Majesty’s talent mark. Unsurprising. Gorthy was an avid supporter of “the need for a ruler who can think in centuries.” A bit unusually, the sun was set against the night sky. It reminded him of Yarn Ball’s dress.

He looked around behind him. In the distance, he could see the town hall peeking over the trees. It was a nice view. It...

A familiar terran, earthy green in coat with orange mane, exited another house. The instant she saw Etheigh, she stared for multiple seconds, her eyes narrowing. He stared back, though it felt like his eyes were bugging out.

Bell Beaker was here?

Gorthy still thought she was safe?

What was an archaeologist doing in an art community?

With Gorthy still talking with Yarn Ball, Etheigh tried to silently catch his attention. When that failed, he took a couple of steps back from Bell Beaker, though she was trots and trots away. Bell Beaker looked off at Gorthy's side, and then hastily re-entered her house.

Gorthy came trotting up the hill, holding a wrapped box in his levitation aura. “Hey, sorry, I had commissioned Steel Shaper to make a gift for thee, and I just wanted to give it to thee myself.”

A gift? “Oh, Gorthy...” His fears of Bell Beaker melted away.

“Please. I haven’t seen my special somepony in months.”

Etheigh looked down at the ground. His face began to feel wet. “I, um...” He was going to be mad, wasn’t he? Him being a careless pony. “...I had a gift, but it got... Lost two weeks ago.”

The wind blew against Etheigh. Then, a hoof wrapped around his barrel. “...I’m sorry to hear that,” he responded. “It seemeth everypony hath lost something since two weeks ago.”

He looked up at his coltfriend. Instead of being angered, there was a sympathy in his eyes that Etheigh always knew was there. Ponies occasionally told him that Gorthy “was trouble for Etheigh”, but they didn’t know the pony who had stood by a blank flank for years, much less a borderline useless horn. Deciding to not be a good Coltchesterite, he leant forward. The two nuzzled, Gorthy not saying a word in objection.

“Here,” Gorthy unwrapped his hoof, and gestured to the door. “Come inside. I’ll show thee this.”

Etheigh nodded. As Gorthy got out his key, he glanced at the curtains again. “...What’s with the curtains thou hast?”

Gorthy turned around, unlocking the door without having to look. “The curtains?” he asked. He met Etheigh's gaze “What about them?”

“Thou hast Her Radiant Majesty’s talent mark against the night sky.”

“Oh!” His eyes widened, and he nodded in understanding. “Thou seest, when I first came hither, I had Her Radiant Majesty’s mark against the white, like her coat.” He gestured back down the hill. “Steel Shaper, however, thinketh that, or the day sky, is not appropriate.”

He quirked a brow. “...Why?”

“What’s Her Radiant Majesty’s first title?”

“The Shepherd of the Sun and the Moon,” Etheigh replied.

“Precisely.” He gestured upwards to the sun. “She bringeth the day and the night. So, Steel Shaper asked, why shouldn’t we celebrate both?”

Etheigh turned up towards the sun. Everypony did a lot of that over the past two weeks. Just to be sure that the sun had risen again. That it was still moving. He wasn’t going to lie, he much preferred the day now than the night.

But, he saw a completion in there he could appreciate. “...No, I suppose. Why not?”

The door opened. “Come in.”

He trotted inside, and Etheigh entered afterwards. Coming in, the place was even more reminiscent of home. A miniature great room sat off to his left, complete with an (unlit) fireplace. A staircase in front of him led to the second story of the house, and, to his right, was what looked like a study.

Gorthy seemed to have all sorts of interesting things in there. A bookshelf held thick, heavy books, some of which looked rather old. A central table was draped, again, with a cloth depicting the sun being eclipsed by the moon, and yet sunbeams still shining. At his desk, there lay a type writer, as well as several papers.

What else to expect from Gorthy? He was one of those ponies Etheigh imagined would soon be one of those authors whose works brought up lots of philosophical questions. It was part of why he adored him. Even though both held similar views in some respects, they still could debate.

“Come here.” Gorthy trotted into the room, sitting down. Both his and Etheigh’s masks were taken off by a green aura, which also took his saddlebags. “I can open this up for thee, but thou canst take it out.”

Etheigh came over and sat down, watching the box be unwrapped. If he really tried, he might have been able to do it. Might. After it was opened, a tip of cloth was just barely lifted. Etheigh focused and brought it up and...

His heart skipped a beat, and the cloth almost fell, with Gorthy catching it.

The logo of the Ministry of Justice, a universal sign throughout the realm of the just law. It was against a tan background the color of his own coat. Beneath it, there read in Old Equish:

To eow scæl þæt Halriht cuman.

It was the Old Equish version Ministry of Justice’s motto, "To you shall come a realm of justice", with one single word changed. Instead of Rihtrice, there was the Old Equish root of his name.

It was a play on words, saying “To you shall come Holright” at the same time as “To you shall come the whole of justice”.

Tears dripped from Etheigh's eyes. “I... I...” He looked at Gorthy, who was smiling.

“Congratulations on your graduation. Congratulations on your apprenticeship.”

A wide smile spread across Etheigh’s muzzle. “Thank thee...” The two embraced, after over half a year of being apart. Etheigh was, in that moment, safe again.

Author's Note

"Terran" is the Long Night-verse term for "earth pony", although its use is actually fairly recent. As late as the 1200s, the common terms for members of the tribes were "earth pony", "horn pony", "sky pony", and "all pony". The terms "terran", "unicorn", "pegasus", and "alicorn" arose with the Scientific Revolution of the 1300s as more formal terms, which trickled down into common speech.

An oddity in the Friendship is Magic-verse has always been that it's normal, perhaps even the rule to be excepted, that a pony's special talent is somehow related to their name. It is as though parents know (or even determine) what their child's special talent is going to be years in advance, which seems unusual given how ponies have to actively work to discover their talent. Or there's just an extraordinary level of coincidence. Or the boring answer that it's a cartoon show marketed for children. The Long Night-verse's answer to this is the "birth name"-"talent name" system:

Birth names are given by parents upon the birth of their foal. In most parts of Equestria since the 1200s, after one gains their talent mark, birth names are relegated to the most intimate of settings. In the rare few holdouts like Coltchester, birth names are still used in most contexts.

Talent names are given by a pony themselves when they gain their talent mark (the Holright-verse name for cutie mark). In most parts of Equestria since the 1200s, this name becomes used in all but the most intimate contexts, and is the only name used in legal documentation as well. In places like Coltchester, the talent name is still only used when one is in a professional context.

Normally, Etheigh and Gorthy would refer to each other by their birth names. They both understand, though, just how uncomfortable it can make others, and so use their talent names in public in Ponyville.

Etheigh and Gorthy, as explicated in this Chapter, come from Coltchester, which speaks an archaic dialect of Equish (English). As implied at the end, Old Equish (Old English) occupies a role akin to Latin in Equestria. Lots of heroic literature comes from this period, although some legends, as Equestria has discovered, may not be legends after all...

Part I, Chapter 2: The Librarian

Hēafodweard, Sē Ōþer: Sē Bōchorsling

Heya everypony!

Ponyville’s getting fresh faces! You know what that means!

Surprise party!

No, just kidding! Everypony’s had one too many surprises, and so we’re welcoming Lyra and Holright with a good old-fashioned regular, non-surprise party!

Come to the park at 6:00 P.M. sharp (hee hee, a rhyme!) to join the fun! Because the Guards are being a bunch of ███████████ ponies, only 50 ponies can come, so it’s first come, first serve!

See ya there!

Pinkie Pie

“They had to censor the party invitation too, huh?” Etheigh read the letter through his reading glasses, both of which were being held in Gorthy’s green levitation aura as they approached the rail line checkpoint. “Everything in the name of public order.”

“If what thou toldst me about Trottingham is correct, ’tis needed in some places.” That statement ground against both of their politics, but it was a fair point. “Before thou ascribest our attitudes to Lady Pie, however, she wrote ‘grumpy lumpy’ in the invitation.”

Typical Royal Guards.

A stark contrast, however, was immediately presented. When they got to the checkpoint, true to Lieutenant Hold’s word, Lieutenant Hold made the now-unreal act of simply stepping aside. Even had the civility to wave and bid Etheigh, “Have fun at the party, Mr. Holright!”

He respectfully bowed his head, and Gorthy did as well. “Thank you, good Lieutenant,” Etheigh replied.

Think not I notice not the black ink for the most polite descriptors of what ye are.

When they passed through, Etheigh sneaked a sight at Gorthy. After he’d given him his cloth, Gorthy had showed him around their house, which included a small library that doubled as Etheigh’s own study. When he'd brought him upstairs to tour the rooms, and they reached their room, they’d... Well, afterwards both had needed to get a wash. Together.

Ever since they were six year old foals in Lady Speechcraft's had always represented something he never really found in anypony else. Somepony who, defiant of those who bullied Etheigh, had stuck by his side, who cared for him when others did not. Who defended him when others would not. Etheigh still had a foalish nickname for Gorthy after all these years: his Guardspony. Not Guard, Guardspony.

Even now, his Guardspony’s visage set his heart aflutter.

“I love thee,” Etheigh said.

Those red eyes, Etheigh, were as his own heart. “And thee.”

After their fun in the bathroom, Gorthy had given him the party invitation. That a party was to be held right now, as Royal Guards occupied the streets of a farm village, boggled Etheigh's mind. Back in Coltchester, they were just beginning to open public places such as businesses or parks to limited numbers of the public. Even if the party had a capacity of 50, that Lieutenant Hold would allow it, when Ponyville was so intensely occupied, was as unusual as it was...

“...Thou’rt sure the party is safe, Gorthy?” Etheigh asked.

“Yea, I’m sure.”

“But there may be unsafe ponies there.”

“Yea.”

“Why are we going, then?”

“Because it’s safe.”

In all the time since Etheigh had started seriously taking Gorthy’s advice about safety, Gorthy had never once said a party was safe. Not once. Why, then, was he considering a public party safe, at which ponies there would be unsafe ponies, at a place that, if he understood correctly, was but a short distance from the very unsafe Everfree, at one of the most unsafe times in Equestrian history...?

...

...Ah, well. Gorthy wasn’t a careless pony like Etheigh could be. There had to be something he was missing because of that. After crossing the bridge into town, Etheigh watched a two-by-three column of Guards march through the market square, moving in lockstep. Both Etheigh and Gorthy slowed, not wanting to get too close.

“Hopefully,” Gorthy said. “The librarian will be there. I can assure thee, Etheigh, they are safe. In fact, they are even more safe than the party, or even anypony else who liveth here. Except for me, of course.”

“Why talkest thou about the librarian?”

“Oh, no reason.” Gorthy looked off towards the sky as they started through the square. “No reason at all.” Etheigh wasn’t going to ever manage to get Gorthy to tell the truth about whatever it was about the librarian. He had his reasons, though, so he wouldn’t question them.

Trying to get further advice, Etheigh inquired, “So what am I supposed to do at the party, if there’s unsafe ponies?”

“Talk to ponies. I’ll stop thee if thou talkest to an unsafe one.”

Etheigh had to admit, that brought the teensiest bit of unease. Nevertheless, it was fair. A thought crossed his mind, and he excitedly asked, “Canst thou introduce me to Lord Order?”

The excited grin on Etheigh's face slowly spread to Gorthy's eyes. “...Of course, Etheigh!”

As they exited the square and trotted down the road, Etheigh's excitement only swelled.

This was it. Today was the day he was meeting Tall Order, former Realm District Attorney for Her Radiant Majesty's Prefecture in Manehattan. A legend who had brought down corruption, organized crime rings, and had fought against fundamental rights violations by the Manehattan City-Provincial government. Somepony who only ever lost a legal battle after gargantuan efforts by the other party in a case. When Tall Order had finally said he was done after six decades in his position six years prior, like the pegasus dictator of old, Cincinneightus, he had retired to the countryside.

Doctor Groundlaw was a personal friend of Order, which was why Etheigh was going to his apprentice-

Something smacked into Etheigh's seasonal mask, and he instinctively shrieked. Immediately, Gorthy seized Etheigh. “What's wrong!?” he shouted.

“Nothing! Something hit my muzzle!” he yelped.

A few ponies were giving him stares, including a Royal Guard. That was not good. Not safe. If they knew Etheigh was a scared little pony, that put a target on his back. Gorthy stepped back, shaking his head, his eyes about saying as much. “...Be more careful, Etheigh,” he said. He focused on Etheigh's nose, and a green aura enveloped something that was brought before Etheigh's eyes. “‘Tis but a feather.”

He started to relax. Just a feather. A small feather that looked it had come from a pegasus, judging by...

“...Etheigh?”

“There’s... blood, on the feather.”

Etheigh’s gaze was directed at his coltfriend, but it focused on the building behind him. It was a two-story house, of the same architecture as most of Ponyville. There was, however, one glaring difference between it and its surroundings: a pony sized hole in the wall. A suspiciously fresh-looking coat of paint lined the intact walls nearest it.

“...Gorthy...” He looked at his coltfriend, talking in a hushed whisper. “I told thee they just ordered everypony to get indoors and keep warm in Coltchester. What happened here?”

Gorthy blinked from behind his own mask. “...Right now, ‘tis the time for thy welcome party and blissful ignorance. Thou’lt find out soon enough, I wager.”

That feather was incinerated before Etheigh’s eyes, collapsing into a pile of ash at his hooves. His jaw slightly parted. “Gorthy, that was-”

“Blissful ignorance, Etheigh.” He nudged his head down the road towards some building with a carousel on top. “Come thither.”

He bit his lip, then nodded and started trotting alongside his coltfriend. It was only by the time they had reached a sign for the carousel building, reading its name was Carousel Boutique, that conversation began again. “I am going to keep an eye on that ‘Lyra’ mare thou sawest before. I am unsure of her safety, Etheigh.”

He knew it. Once again, his judgement was faulty. Even though Gorthy hadn’t outright said she was unsafe, which was an important distinction, the fact that he’d just trusted her from the outset displayed how much of a careless pony he was.

Sadly, he sighed, “...Okay...”

A weight of magic pressed upon the back of his neck, massaging him. “Be not saddened by thy lack of sight, Etheigh. There are several ponies at this party, hopefully including the librarian, who are safe.” Gorthy’s voice was warm as they headed onto a dirt path leading through the trees behind Carousel Boutique to a small mass of ponies in the distance.

Anxiety built in Etheigh at that sight. Gorthy was a remarkably talented unicorn because of his familiarity with older literature, having been the star of arcane clubs in both high school and university. But parties meant lots of ponies, and if everypony found out just how much of a weakling Etheigh was, what could Gorthy do? All it took, all it would take, is a single unicorn noticing how awfully slow and restricted Etheigh was with his own magic, and it would all go downhill-

“Relax, Etheigh.” He put up a hoof to stop him, and his eyes had a greater confidence than Etheigh had seen in a long time. “I would not have thee come here if I believed this party was unsafe.” Etheigh started to nod, but then the horseshoe of the hoof halting him was brought up against his chin. “I would not have thy hoofsome face come here if I believed it were to be blemished.”

He slightly blushed. “Okay,” he affirmed more resolutely. “I love thee, Gorthy.”

“And I thee.” The blue unicorn pressed his horn against Etheigh’s. “I cannot give thee my horn no matter how much I wish at times, Etheigh, but I vow that I should not leave thy side as has been the case.”

“...Thank thee.”

Gorthy parted from Etheigh, glancing down the road. He looked back at the unicorn, and simply said, “I think I see the pony thou wantest to meet.”

It took every bit of the cultivated Coltchester manners and restraint in Etheigh not to charge forth like a little foal. There, standing at the edge of the treeline talking with a lime green terran mare, was the now grey-coated, blue-grey maned terran stallion, clad in a sharp business suit. Not a trace was left of his brown coat, which, as rumor had it, had greyed because of the stress of his work.

Trotting forward with a near bounce in his step, he approached one of his living idols. When he got within earshot, he immediately bowed and slowed his walk over, approaching him as he would a mare of a house.

“...I’m telling you, Justice, I’m hoping she doesn’t come.” He’d never heard his voice, although the Canterbury tilt assured him this was not just the pony of his hopes and dreams, but one who might provide another safe anchor in this place where the military patrolled the streets, and ponies waved bare hooves and would come to be nude.

“I think it’s important we just have this moment...” The mare’s voice briefly drifted off. “Why, hello there Mr. Eldwrit,” the mare greeted.

“Oh, Mr. Eldwrit!” Etheigh halted, hearing the stallion approach. “Hello!”

“Hello, Lord Order.” There was an angle in Gorthy’s voice. Something that, for the briefest of moments, rose before vanishing without a trace. It was there and gone so fast that Etheigh could not be sure it had been there at all.

“And this must be Mr. Holright.”

He’s saying my name! He’s saying my name!

“Lord Order,” he greeted. He kept his head bowed. Much like a mare of a house, he, as a good Coltchesterite, had to profess honor of the granter of hospitality, and give thanks for that generosity. “I am honored that ye should take myself as your apprentice. After your storied career, I can only grant your gift of a lifetime my deepest, and humblest gratitude.”

“Thank you, Mr. Holright.”

He’s thanking me! Me!

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in Albay. It’s good to see that, even with the world as it is, Coltchester still finds its manners.” Etheigh’s head rose, meeting the golden-eyed gaze and warm smile of the legal celebrity. “I’ve been eager to take somepony Groundlaw is so confident in.”

He fought to not burst into tears. He...!

Gorthy was giving Tall Order the unsafe glare. At least until he noticed Etheigh had risen, and he suddenly looked just as happy and confident as before. Though perturbed, Etheigh responded as if he hadn’t noticed it. “I am indebted to Doctor Groundlaw, good Lord, as I shall be to you.”

“Please, Mr. Holright." Tall Order offered a (horseshoed) hoof, and Etheigh had to fight not to try and imitate the vigor of a terran when he shook it. “I’m sure your debt will be outweighed by others’ debts to you.”

He thinks I’m...!?

His eyes went past Etheigh, and his hoof raised to wave. “Oh, hi Deerie!” He gestured to Etheigh to turn around, and he was met with three pegasi mares. A blue one with a rainbow mane and a wing that had been put in a cast, a yellow one with a pink mane staring at the ground, and a light brown mare easily twice their age, judging by the greying mane.

The brown mare smiled. “Hey, Tall!”

The stallion in question sidled past Etheigh, who stuck by his idol’s side. “Etheigh, this is my wife, Deer Lore.” Deer Lore. Etheigh recalled her to be Tall Order’s second wife (his first wife, a unicorn named Scope Carve, having passed of old age a decade and a half prior). Odd name for a pony. “Along with Ms. Fluttershy here, she studies the wildlife of the Everfree.” Etheigh’s eyes widened, and Tall Order, who had been looking at him as he said that, grinned. “See, Deerie? Another pony who thinks your idea of ‘retirement without retiring’ is worse than mine,” he teased.

Etheigh had to prevent his jaw from dropping. Even in teasing jest, a good Coltchester stallion did not talk to his mare in such a manner so publicly. This mare just giggled and shook her head.

Truly, Equestria was a vast realm.

“...um...hi...Councilpony Order...” Fluttershy, whose voice was barely audible, seemed to hide behind her mane. She, for a split second, chanced a peek at Etheigh. “...hi...Holright...”

“Lady Fluttershy.” He lowered his eyes out of respect for a second.

Deer Lore looked at the younger mare, and warmly smiled, rubbing her with her wing. “See, Fluttershy?” she quietly spoke. “That wasn’t so bad.” That tone reminded Etheigh of somepony from college. The notecard pony. Somepony who...

...

...Gorthy said they were extraordinarily unsafe. The most unsafe pony at the University of Coltchester. Even though Etheigh was foolish enough to not think that at the time. Besides, Gorthy sort of made him feel as the notecard pony had, and he was far more certainly safe.

“Uh, hey Holright.” The rainbow mare tried to wave a wing towards the party, but winced in pain. “Come on Flutters,” she grunted. “Let’s go say hi to Lyra.”

“...o-okay...”

The rainbow mare pointed a bare hoof at Tall Order. True to Gorthy’s mad advice, Tall Order didn’t seem to take any sort of offense from it. Even though that hoof had been who knew where. “She’s not coming, right?”

“I hope not.”

The rainbow mare sighed, and walked down the path towards the crowd. Fluttershy meekly followed her, and, with a nod to her husband, Deer Lore did too. Gorthy was expressionless. “Ms. Fluttershy, Ms. Dash, and their friends have been through a lot the past couple of weeks,” Tall Order quietly informed Etheigh. “...Don’t ask them about it.”

“I’m going to go ahead, Holright, Lord Order, and find some ponies I think Etheigh would want to meet.” Gorthy, who had been near expressionless, turned towards Etheigh with a smile. “Take thy time with Lord Order, Etheigh.”

“Good seeing you, Mr. Eldwrit.” The way Tall Order was saying that, it sounded like it was almost forced.

Gorthy glanced back, his eyes slightly narrowing. “And you, Lord Order.” He trotted off without a bow or another word.

What was the problem? Gorthy said Tall Order was safe.

“Here, Mr. Holright...” He turned and walked back to the terran mare he’d been speaking with before. “This is Justice Gavel. She’s the local judge.”

He respectfully bowed. “Judge Gavel.”

The mare chuckled. “Polite as a Coltchester stallion, indeed!”

“Normally, she - we - don’t have a particularly full plate, but, well...” Tall Order didn’t need to say the rest. Coltchester was the same. “On the bright side, though, you’ll have plenty of work from me, Holright...”

Again, he looked behind Etheigh. The unicorn glanced back to find a grey-maned, but paradoxically young-looking tan terran marching towards them. She did not look happy in the slightest. “...Why don’t you go on ahead to your welcome party, Mr. Holright? I think I need to have a word with the mayor.”

Although it was disappointing for Etheigh to part from the rock star, that mare’s look did not make him feel safe in the slightest. Respectfully, he bowed to Tall Order, and hastily made his way down the path.

“Now hold on, Mayor-”

“Get out of my way,” the mare growled.

Yep. Definitely hurrying down the path. When he reached the end, he entered a small park with a fountain in the center. About ten Royal Guards were sparsely interspersed along the edges, statuesque as ever, their cloaks blending with the various shades of green the grass and trees had. He began to look over the crowd when, from nowhere, a pink terran bounced up in front of him.

“Hey there!” a cheerful voice greeted. He yelped, falling back onto his flanks. “Ooh, sorry, sorry!” A hoof was offered to him by a mare whose smile seemed infectious. “I forget, no surprises right now!” she giggled.

“...’Tis fine,” he breathed. He quickly searched for Gorthy. A brief nod from the unicorn, and he relaxed. Safe. “Ye are, good Lady?”

“Silly pony, I’m not ‘good Lady’, I’m Pinkie Pie! I put together this party!”

“Er... Holright, Lady Pie.”

“That’s why you’ve got the old-timey clothes!” She spoke as if she had made some grand discovery. Then, as if a fire had been cast in her mind, she jumped up. “Ooh, I should get Rarity!” With a speed only a terran could wield, the pony zipped off. He stared at where she had been for a moment, before shaking his head.

Trying to get a sense of who was here and potentially safe before the pink one came back with “Rarity”, he surveyed the partygoers. As expected in a town founded by them, most were terrans. He caught sight of Lyra, though he hesitated about deciding to go over to her after Pinkie came back. Gorthy still had to make his decision about her. There was some grey, blond-maned pegasus who seemed safe enough as well-

The pink pony again appeared from nowhere. This time, he merely jumped instead of falling over. “Ooh, sorry-!”

“Oh, by Her Radiant Majesty!” a mare called. In an instant, something white was upon him. A mare with makeup, a very well-kept blue mane and tail, and a far better sense of dress than most ponies there was suddenly in front of him. For a second, the “piece of meat” look in her eye led him he to believe he was about to get felt up by a mare whose heat was getting to them.

Then, she said five words which made it clear that she was something far, far worse.

“This is traditional Coltchester costume!”

She was the horrific, terrible beast that good Coltchesterites called “a tourist”. In the periphery of his vision, Gorthy smirked at him with the most evil grin. Pinkie didn’t seem too far behind him, cackling as she bounced away.

“Good-” He tried to stop the inevitable. He really did. Yet every good Coltchesterite knew that “the tourist” was an annoying, but safe creature that would not leave somepony alone until they had had their way, or a good Coltchesterite snapped and lost their politeness. Not all tourists were actually “tourists”, but both were only tolerated because of the business they brought.

“The cloak - oh, I love the red, and the redder inside...!” Against his will, his cloak was lifted up. “This must have been stitched by Pin & Hoof!”

Oh no. She wasn’t just “a tourist”.

She was “the tourist” who bothered to read about Coltchester.

Silently, he began to pray that something, anything, would get him out of this. There was nothing one could do for this type of “tourist”. Even if you started openly commanding them to leave you alone, they would find something you did in that act to become fascinated about and further pester you about. The best one could do is hope for divine intervention, so that half of one's day was not wasted with them.

“Oh, and I love the grey of the leggings and undercoat!” The way her head was bending down, to look the clothes beneath his cloak over, it took a good Coltchesterite to know that she wasn’t eyeing him up. In “that way”, at least. A hoof suddenly played with the clothing upon his neck. “Oh, and the frills! The frills-!”

“Damn it Rarity, get off ‘em! He ain’t no poniquette!” Oh, Her Radiant Majesty was merciful! Saved, by what sounded like a country farmer - a rare demographic of tourist, but one which never was “a tourist”.

The mare flushed and embarrassedly smiled, backing away. “Ahem, apologies.”

His terran, orange savior limped over, pointing her bare hoof at the mare. Like any good tourist-hating Coltchesterite, Etheigh wished the terran was using that gesture to mean what it should mean. “If ah didn’t know better, ah’d say ya were trahin’ t’ jump ‘em!”

Both Rarity and Etheigh blushed. “Forgive me, Holright, isn’t it?” the unicorn coughed.

“Yea, good Lady,” he answered. With a slight snark, he responded, “‘Tis fine. I’m used to tourists.”

The terran snorted, and the unicorn was now red. “I, um, I’ll talk to you later!”

The mare trotted off, and the terran rolled her eyes. “Ah’ll just introduce mahself raht quick so ah don’t holdja up. Ah’m Applejack, and ah help run Sweet Apple Acres.”

Great. Wonderful. His country farmer savior was also one of the Apples. Forcing a smile that couldn’t be seen, he tortured himself into politely responding. “Good Lady,” he replied. He even slightly bowed.

“Ya want some good Apple-family quality apples, jus’ look in the market.”

The sales pitch. Spoken like a true Apple. She tipped her cowpony hat, slightly wincing. He noticed that her clothes, which weren’t anything fancy beyond a basic skirt and front clothes, weren’t covering her left foreleg. The upper part of it was bandaged. It had to be some bad farming accident. It took a lot to make terrans physically display pain, much less induce pain to begin with.

Again, he forced a bow. Her eyes briefly turned towards the path to the village proper, and she snarled. “Ya better not come here ya fuckin’ bitch,” she hissed. It was quiet enough that Etheigh only just heard it, but the vulgarity made him flinch. The terran noticed, and gave a smile. It wasn’t like Rarity’s. It looked like she was proud to think and say what she did. “Ahem, pers’nal business between me an’ the mayor.” Again, she tipped her hat, and began to limp off.

He, meanwhile, gained further insight as to why politicians didn’t mess with the Apples.

Tall Order and the mayor looked entrenched in a fierce argument. He smirked, walking towards the rest of the party. If this small-village mayor thought she could win an argument with Tall Order, she was beyond mistaken.

Deciding to chance the grey pegasus, he started towards her, only to be intercepted by Lyra, accompanied by the cream-colored mare from before. “Hey, Holright,” she greeted. “Sorry about not talking at the platform, but...”

The three silently agreed to not finish that sentence, or discuss it further. “This is your marefriend, good Lady?” He slightly bowed.

“Bon Bon,” the terran shortly answered. “I-”

“Hey, Holright, I just found somepony I think thou wouldst truly wish to meet!” A hoof wrapped around his neck, and Gorthy gave the two mares the “unsafe glare”. “Why comest not thou hither?” A slight tug on Etheigh. The feeling that Lyra was safe, despite Gorthy’s apparent judgement, was overwhelmed by an internal sense of shame at his own carelessness.

“...Of course, Eldwrit.” He bowed to Lyra and her marefriend. “Good Ladies.”

Etheigh moved with the same swiftness as Gorthy. He had long stopped needing him to pull him away. Etheigh knew to get away as quick as he could.

“Etheigh,” Gorthy hissed. Even though Etheigh knew the speech before Gorthy could even utter the first word, having long internalized it, Gorthy still gave it. “That mare-”

“I’m giving you five and your disgraced friend one last chance!” The speech died, and Etheigh, Gorthy, and everypony else turned to find the mayor marching into the park. To Etheigh's shock and awe, Tall Order trailed behind her eyes downcast. “One last chance! I want to know what happened two weeks ago that Her Radiant Majesty is hiding, or I am going to force you to talk by getting subpoenas for you and you and you and you and you and especially her the second I can!” The mayor pointed at Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and then back into town.

Fluttershy huddled into her own mane, but the others looked about as pissed as the mayor. Especially Applejack.

“Now that’s just a bunch of horseshit!” The injured terran pointed her hoof right back at the mayor. “Ah an’ e’rypony else have told y’all that we ain’t talkin’ with yer fuckin’ attitude!”

“Mayor, ma’am,'” a nearby Royal Guard immediately interrupted. “Please keep your interaction civil-'”

“And I have told you to stop standing with liars and outsiders when Starlight, Sunflower, Purple Heart, Desert Storm, and others are dead!” Etheigh’s sense of awe deepened - she really had to rival Tall Order to just ignore the Guard like that. “You, Applejack, insist on lying to us!”

Applejack stomped on the ground, and the earth slightly shook. “Ah’m not defendin’ any murderer, an’ ah sure ain’t lied t’y’all neither!”

“Mayor, ma’am!'” The Royal Guard repeated themselves with an open threat in their tone. “Cease-”

“Is that why your ‘friend’ from Canterlot isn’t here, Applejack? Because she’s got nothing to hide? Have we all forgotten how she spoke-”

“Ah’d suppose she ain’t here ‘cuz y’all don’t make her feel welcome!”

“MAYOR-”

“She ISN’T welcome here!”

“ENOUGH!” Lyra’s voice boomed into the conversation, and she had the audacity to come between the two mares. The Royal Guard didn’t react. Etheigh began to understand why she was unsafe. She pointed a hoof at Pinkie Pie. “This is my welcome party, right?”

“Yep, Lyra.” The cheer in Pinkie Pie’s voice was, if not gone, extremely restrained. She pointed at Holright. “It’s also his.”

“Well, Holright, do you agree that neither of us have reason yet to make anypony unwelcome to our welcome party?” Etheigh was about to disagree vehemently, coming up with some excuse about how “he didn’t want to cause trouble”. The reality was, answering “yea” meant involving himself in a conflict which could make him unsafe, and was, on top of that, siding with an unsafe pony.

Then Gorthy jabbed his hoof into his side, and hissed, “Yea.”

What? He confusedly looked at Gorthy. He glared at Etheigh and hissed again, “Yea.”

Well, if Gorthy said so...

“...Yea. We haven’t reason.” He mouthed words at Gorthy. “Why art thou saying this?”

“You have no idea who you are standing for in that library, Lyra-” the mayor growled.

“No, I don’t.” Lyra began to trot towards the path. “And I’M going to find out!”

“Lyra!” her marefriend called.

“You’re not stopping me, Bonnie!” Lyra entered the treeline.

Okay, he definitely saw why Gorthy thought she was unsafe-

“It’s your welcome party, and you agreed that there’s no reason for the librarian to not come,” Gorthy hurriedly hissed. “Go with Lyra, now. I’ll stay here.”

“What?” he audibly yelped.

“She is safe. Go with her. Now.” Gorthy quietly spoke with that sternness he used when Etheigh refused to see how he was being a careless pony. Hadn’t Gorthy- “Now! And remember the librarian is safer than this party, or anypony in Ponyville, except me! Not that the safe ponies aren’t safe!”

The reflex of following Gorthy’s advice overrode his confusion as to why his coltfriend had gone from starting “the speech” to now saying Lyra was safe. With a practiced manner, he turned to the mayor and bowed, “Good Mayor.” With all eyes on him, including those of the Guard, he felt extremely unsafe, but he hurried off to catch up to Lyra.

What was it Gorthy was seeing that he was not? Why was Lyra unsafe, then safe? Why did he... Oh, he got it now. That was Gorthy, a much more careful pony than Etheigh could ever be. Gorthy knew the party wasn’t the safest place for Etheigh to be, and so he was taking the calculated risk of sending him off with Lyra so he could go to the very safe librarian, who wasn’t welcome, and stay with them safely as the party was happening.

...That was what Gorthy was thinking, right?

He caught up to the mint-green unicorn, who looked a bit surprised to see him. “Oh, hey Holright.”

“Good Lady.”

They caught sight of the Carousel Boutique, and the silence began to get awkward. He was in enough of a state of confusion that he didn’t know whether it was more safe to talk or not talk. That dilemma intensified when Lyra asked, “...What’s the deal with your friend?” He knew that tone. That was the “Gorthy is trouble for Etheigh” tone. Why did Gorthy think- “Never mind. I just thought he was... Weird.”

The two got into town. Against his better judgement, he followed Lyra as she began to navigate, her apparently having a better sense of Ponyville than he did, despite being there as long as he had. The silence started to get to him enough that he eked out something, anything, he could think of. Like the careless pony he was, the first thing that came out wasn’t quite the best question to ask. “Why are ye, a mare, wearing a seasonal mask?”

The mare stopped and looked at him, and he froze. He was far away enough now that, no matter how much he screamed, Gorthy could not come. He could only rely on Guards standing in the streets. He- “You know what?” she laughed. “That’s a pretty good question after all that!”

Half genuinely, half out of fear, he laughed as well. She waved a hoof at the red mask covering her muzzle. “There’s some research that pheromones can apparently affect mares. Not like stallions like you,” she giggled. “But it can affect us.”

“...Oh.”

She started off again, and he, hesitantly, went with her. Just a bit more, he supposed, to the library, judging by their entrance into the marketplace. Where the safe pony was. “With those sorts of questions being asked, I like you, Holright,” she said. “Too many ponies ask questions they aren’t seeking an answer for, and too few those they are.”

“...’Tis not the best question for a good Coltchesterite to ask,” he thought out loud.

“Eh, too many ponies don’t mean what they say, or don’t say what they mean.” She shook her head. “I’m willing to bet half of the ponies at that party are silently asking that question.”

The two passed a place called Sugarcube Corner.

“They said ponies died here...” Lyra sighed. “What do you think?”

Gorthy’s reaction had made him forget that he now had confirmation that ponies had died here two weeks ago. That the mayor had, in seeming insanity, accused Her Radiant Majesty of wrongdoing. “...I...” Should he talk, or shouldn’t he talk? “...I wit not.”

“...That’s fair. Bonnie’s not really been talking about it, so I don’t know anything.” Another depressed huff. “So I’m not jumping to conclusions. I can’t imagine whoever’s in the library is so bad.”

“...Me neither.” Gorthy had said they were safe, after all. With the tree now visible and drawing closer, every step forward was a step closer to safety, and away from the confusing mess that was Lyra.

Well, at least until he caught sight of the six Guards still standing in front of the library. His sense of nearing safety was shaken, but...

...

...He supposed that, like Lyra, Gorthy was taking a calculated risk.

“Why don’t you be the one to go in first? You seem like the most polite one here.” She grimly chuckled, “Surprised the Guard didn’t get me after I joined into that mess.”

First towards the Guard? Normally, merely for being a good Coltchesterite, he would say the mare should go first. Now, though, his feeling of uncertainty was becoming so intense the desire to just have somewhere to stop and think was interfering with his politeness and regard for his own safety. The best chance of him satiating that careless want was him doing the good Coltchesterite, and safe, thing to do and be polite. He didn’t, however, get ahead of Lyra.

Instead, he appraised the sun, which was now approaching the horizon. Its motions now inspired him with a sense of security that could help him do that, though he silently uttered a prayer that it would rise again in the morning. Lyra caught what he was doing, and looked at the sun too. “Heh... I can’t believe there was a time when the sun rising was a guarantee.” Saying what everypony thought there. He just...

Ah well, they were here at the library. Lyra slowed, gesturing him forward. He tried to slow as much as he could without being too noticeably slow. He didn’t know whether he supposed to turn his back to her or not. Whether it was safe to turn his side to Guards who, strangely, were not looking at him as they were earlier that day. Whether it was safe...

...

...Well, safety was right in front of him. Surely, if he turned his back to her, and his side to the Guard, he could call the librarian for help if anything went wrong. Gorthy had said the librarian was more safe than anypony but him, after all.

His heart thundering, he approached the door. Then, he almost stopped. He was going to have to hoof open the door. There was no way his horn was going to work right enough right now for him to open it. But that meant Lyra and the Guard would know that he could use his hooves like a terran. Or would it? It-

The door opened under a magenta magical aura. “I’m just going to say hello, Sergeant Sentry.” That voice made his heart stop. “I don’t want to cause trouble, but they’re my...”

Standing in the doorway was who Gorthy had insisted was the most unsafe pony for the year she was at the University of Coltchester. The pony Etheigh had been foolish enough to never think was unsafe in the time he knew her.

Twilight Sparkle.

Author's Note

Terrans are well-known to be the most hardy of the three tribes as a result of their arcana largely being passive augmentations of the body. Drop a boulder on a pegasus, and they'll be crushed, but drop a boulder on a terran, and they will be crippled for the rest of their life at worst. When Etheigh thinks Applejack had to be in "some bad farming accident", he means it. The average lifespan of a terran is 150 years, almost twice that of a pegasus (the shortest-lived of the tribes), typically only beginning to show signs of old age after the first century. Tall Order is a full 108 years old, and, like many terrans who don't marry another terran, has taken a second wife; Deer Lore is 56, over fifty years younger, but this is socially acceptable in light of the differences in life expectancy.

Part I, Chapter 4: The Lie

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Part I: The Arrival ― Introduction

Dǣl, Sē Fyresta: Sēo Ancuming ― Foresæġdnes

Excerpt from 21 June 1444: The Long Night that Changed the World, by Source Criticism (1521)

...“there hath been a change in the air. Something hath fundamentally broken, and I think not it can be fixed.”

Sentiments like these, found in the 2 July, 1444 entry in the journal of a Mr. Holright of Coltchester, abound in firsthoof accounts of the early aftermath of 21 June, 1444 within the Equestrian Realm.

For the past two centuries, Equestria, which had already been a great power whenever not in civil war beforehoof, had been ascending as the world hegemon. It was a center of scientific and technological innovation, possessed unparalleled military might, and had become the economic powerhouse of the world. Much like the demigod monarch that ruled the realm, this power had been wielded not as a cudgel for Equestrian dominance on a global stage, but as the propagator of “harmony”, which had been, was, and still is a core value of Equestrian society.

Harmony had brought strength from the unity of the Three Tribes almost fifteen hundred years prior, and from the concord of the “Great Consensus” between republicans and monarchists but centuries before. Now, it helped resolve international disputes between bitter rivals, brought aid to lands afflicted by natural disaster, poverty, and war, and acted as a, if not the moral leader for the world. Even the rise of a global arms race in the years prior to 1444 had been unable to halt the ascendance of Equestrian harmony. Though the Earth had looked closer than ever before to a world war, its fair, tempered hoof led calmer heads to prevail.

In the first days after 21 June, 1444, however, an anxiety, familiar to some lands but long fallen out of living memory in Equestria, now trickled past its borders. What had happened, that the Hench in the Moon was now gone, that the sun had not risen for a day, that the Equestrian Royal Guard had implemented martial law under a Royal Decree #52768? Had the legendary Black Knight not been mythical, and returned, Her Radiant Majesty fighting some great battle to defeat it once more? Was this some grand overthrow of the Great Consensus, and a return to the rule by the philosopher queen of old? Did some nation or nations attack the international champion of harmony? Nobody knew. Communications and travel had been restricted, military units of the Royal Guard patrolled the streets in front of an empty Parliament Hall, and Her Radiant Majesty and her Royal Cabinet were silent.

Nobody knew what had happened.

Nobody knew what was happening.

Nobody knew what would happen...

“...þisses swā mæġ...”

Author's Note

In terms of its role in modern international relations, Long Night-verse Equestria has the power of the United States at its peak during the past century, but it is far less militaristic, mostly employing the Equestrian Royal Guard's military capacities in foreign peacekeeping operations. Even with the recent military buildup, the sudden and forceful appearance of the Equestrian military into regular life is as though the entire country has "crossed international borders".

What does “...þisses swā mæġ...” mean?

...

Read on.

Part I, Chapter 3: The Black Knight

Hēafodweard, Sē Þridda: Sē Blacan Cniht

Two and a half years earlier...

Etheigh peered through the window out at a tree which, in defiance of the time of year, still dared to cling to the last of its leaves. Like the setting sun, it would, any day now, finally choose to give up and die for the oncoming winter. He'd been having a lot of poetic thoughts like that lately, whether due to Gorthy, the Old Equish class he was taking, or some combination of the two.

“Þæt is trēow, Hālriht,” a mare’s voice giggled. “Þæt antācnungblæd is hērofer.”

In the small study room tucked away in a corner of the university library, a purple mare sat across from Etheigh. To the average onlooker, she would seem like just another freshpony or sophomore who was probably not from the city, much less province. A mare whose box-glasses, slightly unkempt mane, and even front sweater screamed bookish.

“What sayest thou, Twilight?”

“That’s a tree, Holright,” she giggled again. “The note card is over here.”

“Right. That tree just won’t give up the ghost.”

“Hit sċēatt and grēwþ his bladu in þǣre rihtan tīde.”

“...Please tell me that thou talkedst not just now rudely about using the restroom in Old Equish,” he deadpanned.

Twilight theatrically rolled her eyes. “Sċēatt is the root of ‘sheds’. I was saying ‘The tree will shed and grow its leaves at the right time.’” In a very serious tone accompanied by a hoof waving as though to correct a foal, she continued, “If I was saying what you think I said, I would have said sċāt.”

“Taught Doctor Yoreday that to thee?”

“Yes, actually. I spent about an hour in his office learning curses three weeks ago.”

“Thou jestest.”

“Nope.”

A beat, and then both began laughing like foals looking up bad words in the dictionary. “I should write a letter of protest!” he cackled. “‘Chancellor, my tuition is going to Twilight learning curse words!’”

“It’s either that...!” she howled. “Or me coming up and asking, ‘Princess Celestia, what did ponies mean when they said sċītan a thousand years ago?’” In a voice that threatened sacrilege, the pitch of her voice lowered, and gained a sort of breathiness. “‘Twilight, my dearest student, you’ve just come into my chambers and asked me what ‘to shit’ means.’”

He hit the table with his hoof, almost crying in hysterics at that image. This mare coming up to the mare, and asking what some word means, completely oblivious she just swore to Her Radiant Majesty! Oh, how embarrassed one would have to be!

After having their immature moment, the two began to calm down. Etheigh caught his breath and wiped his eyes, watching her do the same.

This was no average freshpony or sophomore, or even a freshpony or sophomore. This was Twilight Sparkle. A mare a full year younger than Etheigh, but who already had a graduate degree in Arcanic Matrix Theory (which he failed to understand, despite attempts at explanation), and was positioned to become a doctor in a couple of years. Most importantly, she was Her Radiant Majesty’s personal student. Not her acquaintance. Not her formal pupil in a school of thousands.

Her personal student.

Of course, when her special talent was literally magic itself, her accomplishments gained some context.

“I will admit, then,” he jokingly conceded. “I would be disappointed in the University of Coltchester if I sent thee hither for a year, only to have thee do that.”

“Yeah.” Twilight casually cleaned her glasses with a cloth, not breaking eye contact with Etheigh. “A full year away from my doctoral program, getting an Old Equish background for studying Classical arcana under the Old Equish specialist, and I don’t even learn how to swear.” She chuckled, “An actual waste of taxpayer bits.”

Twilight was in a private, directed study with Doctor Yoreday, of whom it was said that he spoke the dead language so well that, should he ever fall backwards in time, the Classicals would regard him as speaking their language better than they did. The only reason Etheigh had ever crossed paths with Twilight was because he had come to Doctor Yoreday a couple of times for help with Introduction to Old Equish Literature (a pre-law degree requirement) during office hours, just after her hour with him.

She put her glasses back on. “Come on, one more note card.” She pointed at a small sheet of paper in front of Etheigh. “Remember, you’re not trying to focus on one thing. You’re saying ‘I am lifting this card as I would with my own hooves, and I am also reading it.’” She encouragingly smiled at Etheigh.

“Right...” He sincerely smiled back.

Etheigh had a ‘bad horn’, as he called it. Ever since he was a foal, he had a difficult time casting even the most basic levitation spells, which could require great effort; at times, lifting a pebble could feel like a boulder. He’d been constantly bullied and taken advantage of because he, at best, was handicapped in his magical ability. He relied on good friends, especially Gorthy, to help protect him when he could not protect himself.

He looked down and, with a bit of effort, levitated up the notecard, and began to do something that would have been borderline impossible but months before. “Hwæt is sē mōna?” he asked in Old Equish.

When they’d first met, Twilight had immediately picked up on his horn. She’d taken him aside, and, very politely, asked if he’d ever been treated for Arcane Concentration Deficit Syndrome. He’d asked what she meant, and she began listing off all the problems he’d ever had. She hadn’t even gotten halfway through before she stopped because he was in tears, pleading with her to not hurt him and not tell anypony. She’d swore to him she would never even think of doing those things, and told him he should go to the Realm Health Service for help. He’d said he couldn’t - he was nervous, ashamed even, and was afraid of the concerning tendency of ponies finding out and hurting him repeating with the RHS.

As though reading off a list, Twilight responded, “Hē is þæt ġecyndelīċa tungol þǣre Eorþan, sē hām þæs Blacan Cnihtes ġēare...and sē ār þǣre niht.”

Gorthy always agreed with that worry. Twilight didn’t. She tried to convince him, even offering to accompany him, to go and seek help, because apparently A.C.D.S. was fairly treatable. He simply couldn’t do it. It caused too much fear. And Gorthy...

“What meaneth all that?”

Twilight grinned, and rhetorically asked, “You are taking an Old Equish reading course, right?”

According to Twilight, A.C.D.S. had to do with some babble about failures with the arcanic matrix - her area of expertise. She didn’t feel qualified to treat him, but Twilight had come up with a solution that, she felt, was at least more ethically acceptable than just watching him never get any help. She needed to practice speaking her Old Equish, and he reading it. So they would get together on Tuesdays in the library, and he would read off notecards. In the process, she would give him tips on improving his magic, which wasn’t exactly unheard of between unicorn friends.

He tried to read the notecard, but his sand-colored aura vanished, and it fell to the table. Like a foal who still didn’t quite grasp that asking the teacher for help didn’t mean they were idiots, he tepidly met her gaze, and quietly told her, “I think not that I can do that and magic at the same time...”

Like always, she didn’t look at him like he was “life unworthy of life”, as his mother had once told him. She didn’t laugh at his failure of a horn like his tormentors had in grade school. She didn’t seize the moment to wield her magic against him, as Hrolf had.

She just smiled, and softly told him, “That’s okay. You can always try to next week. I’m sure you will get it then. Just translate it for me.”

Twilight wasn’t the only pony who’d ever told him it was okay his horn was bad. Gorthy and the rest of Etheigh’s friends had before. Doctor Groundlaw did. She was, however, the only pony he could recall telling him that he could always try again, that, next time, he would accomplish such an insurmountably small thing as reading a notecard in another language while he levitated it. She was the only pony who made him believe those things. Not because she was like a mountain to his pebble of a horn, although that helped. Because she showed him, bit by bit, he could do it.

He began reading the notecard, trying to translate the thousand-year old version of his tongue. “The moon is the natural... Something of the Earth.”

“Satellite. Although that use of tungol is a modern thing - it was just a word for moon or planet to the Classicals.”

The thing about their Tuesday ritual was, the main Old Equish “challenge” for Twilight seemed to be remembering the script of the notecards. Not that it was much of a "challenge" for a pony who could quote off sections of textbooks she’d read months prior verbatim. There were a few suspicious times where she just responded with what seemed like a more natural response (though he never understood it to confirm that), and then corrected herself to the notecard. She, however, insisted that she got just as much out of their practice sessions as he did.

“The home of the Black Knight of yore...” he continued to translate.

“Yep.”

“...And the herald of the night.”

“Correct!”

It was a lie that she got as much Old Equish practice as he did. This actually also helped him read texts and study for tests. Maybe, though, she did get as much value as he did out of it.

“...I know not how thou canst stand learning to speak this language of cases and genders and all the rest.” He looked up from his notecard, shaking his head.

“It’s fun!” Only Twilight and Gorthy could say Old Equish was, in any way, fun. “Lots of arcanic concepts can only be described using Old Equish language.” All the note cards that they had gone through, barring the one in front of Etheigh, floated back into her saddlepacks. “And Princess Celestia thinks it’s a good idea and funds my studies here. Though, honestly, the funding doesn’t matter. In this sense, anyways.” Twilight, always a bit to Etheigh’s disorientation, had the personal relationship (and audacity) to refer to Her Radiant Majesty by her one-in-the-same birth name and talent name. To refer to the perfect, flawless being by her name bordered blasphemy

“Now here,” she pointed at the card in front of him. “Float that over while you’re looking at me. You don’t have to talk, just give it to me. Only look at it if you really need to, okay?”

He smiled and nodded, a slight blur in his vision disappearing with an eyeblink. Trying to focus on where he knew the card laid on the table, he directed energy to his horn and began to try lifting it. At first, he really wasn’t so sure if it had gotten up, or was moving, but then it slowly (and unsteadily) floated over to Twilight. Her positivity made hope surge through him, which only bolstered when she complimented him. “That’s great, Holright!” She took the card and put it with the rest in her saddlepacks. “Just a couple of months ago, you couldn’t float that across the table without looking at it, and now you can!”

That was the last thing she did that nopony else did. She celebrated him doing things that must have been thoughtless to her. She genuinely celebrated them. It made her happy that he was improving.

“Yea... Yea, I can.” Another blinking away of tears. “Thank thee.”

Twilight got up, and he did too. “Come here, Hol.” He circled the table, and the two wrapped hooves around each other. “You’re welcome,” she breathed. Her voice sounded ever-so-slightly moist. “It makes me happy to help you make yourself happy.”

“Thank thee...” he repeated. Tears ran down his muzzle.

When they parted, she got on her saddlepacks with an ease that was godlike to him. He, on the other hoof, had to stop and do the whole motions of getting up, looking back, and getting his on. Instead of leaving, or bidding him to hurry, though, she waited with a polite smile like Gorthy did.

When he’d finished, she opened up the door, and they trotted out into the library. In a low voice because they were in such a place, Twilight leaned towards him as they trotted towards the exit and spoke. “We still on for lunch on Friday?”

“Yea.” He forced cheer onto his face. “Yea, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Great! It’s been disappointing to hear that class has you so busy, Holright. It’d be nice to sit down and relax.” The door to the library opened with a magenta glow. “You could even bring your coltfriend, and we could all just chat!”

Ever so slightly, his ears lowered. “Yea...”

They trotted out into a plaza, and she turned, waving a goodbye to Etheigh. “I’ve gotta go see Doctor Yoreday, but I’ll see you on Friday then!”

“See thee...!” He waved, feigning her optimism as she turned and strolled off. She’d gotten a good twenty trots off when an orange, blue-maned pegasus, who Etheigh was pretty sure was her coltfriend, came up beside her and walked with her.

When she’d gotten far enough away, he sighed. Maybe-

“Hello, Etheigh.” He jumped, turning around to find Gorthy trotting out from the library. He didn’t look the least bit happy. His heart began to sink. “Mind telling me who thou wast just talking to?”

“Nopony...” It was a useless lie.

“It looked not like nopony to me.”

Ashamedly, he looked at the ground. “...Twilight.”

“Twilight. Of course. Twilight.” His coltfriend came up close to him. “That mare is possibly the most unsafe pony here in this entire university.” Twilight didn’t feel unsafe... As if hearing his thoughts, Gorthy continued, “Twilight Sparkle is one of the most powerful unicorns in this city, if not this country or even world.”

“I know...”

“Then why persistest thou in not only befriending her, but going places alone with her?”

Etheigh looked at Gorthy, and tried to let all the optimism Twilight inspired in him on that day show through. “As I’ve told thee before...” He put on his widest beam. “She’s helping me. Today, I-I even levitated something without looking at it!”

Sky Drop, Etheigh’s marefriend the previous year, had told him just before they’d stopped courting that spring that Etheigh needed to choose between her and Gorthy. She’d said that Gorthy was becoming “toxic” to Etheigh, that he was being an “abusive friend”. When he’d, ultimately, chosen the stallion he’d known since he was a colt, Sky Drop had, tearfully, ended it, saying she hoped he would understand why one day. He said the same. Gorthy wasn’t “abusive”. Gorthy didn’t demand Etheigh do or not do things, and would never dare to hurt him.

“And as I’ve told thee, Etheigh, stop and think. Stop, and think.” Gorthy put a hoof to Etheigh’s barrel. “Is somepony maybe improving your horn, on things like lifting note cards, really worth the risks of being trapped in a room who, unlike Hrolf, I can’t stop?” Hrolf was the one who... Beat him up, three years prior, in the locker room. Gorthy stopped him.

“...Nay...” His ears flattened, and he sighed. “...Nay, ‘tis not worth the risks.”

“Yes, they aren’t.” Gorthy wasn’t “toxic”. He was just concerned for his coltfriend’s safety. When Etheigh wasn’t concerned for himself. Sky Drop, nor anypony else, saw in Gorthy’s eyes that he wasn’t a jealous friend, now coltfriend, who didn’t want Etheigh all for himself.

“...I’m sorry I’m being such a careless pony, Gorthy.”

Gorthy leaned his horn against Etheigh’s. “Apologize not to me, Etheigh,” he breathed. “I’m not the one putting themselves in harm’s way.”

“...I know...”

Gorthy caressed his mane, and then parted. “...Come,” he bade. “I’d like thee to meet an acquaintance of mine from the Society.”

Etheigh wearily smiled. “Okay...”

Gorthy nodded, and began to trot off. Etheigh glanced towards the tree outside the library. He watched, a bit melancholy, as one of its last leaves finally blew off and away in the wind.

He left with his coltfriend.

Present

Twilight Sparkle. The most unsafe pony in the University of Coltchester, who Etheigh had been foolish enough to think safe. Although her indigo mane was now straightened, her clothes now far less formal (or well-made), and she, like Lyra, had on a seasonal mask, he would recognize that purple coat and pair of box-glasses anywhere. If Lyra had thrown him into a state of confused panic, Twilight launched him into it at full force by trotting out that door.

The force of her tossing intensified when she cheerfully greeted, “Holright! I’ve been waiting to see you again!”

“Twilight!?” Lyra rushed over to Etheigh’s side, and it took everything not to shriek and gallop for his life back to the party. “What’s-”

Twilight’s face turned from Etheigh, and still kept her cheeriness. “Lyra!” She almost sounded relieved to see her. “Oh, I’m glad to see you’re okay too!”

His breathing was approaching hyperventilation. He was now in the presence of one definitely unsafe pony, and one that was confusingly (or just incidentally) safe. He needed to find the librarian. Gorthy was nowhere close to being in earshot.

Loudly, he spoke, “Twilight, ‘tis a wonderful surprise to see thee! Hast thou seen the librarian?”

Please, good librarian, please hear me...!

She cocked her head the slightest bit. “Heh, Holright, I’m the new Ponyville librarian.” His jaw dropped, and the black of Lyra’s eyes tried to consume her face. He took a step backwards, his heart now feeling like it was going to explode. Twilight was the librarian!?

Twilight was safe!?

She was safer than anypony but Gorthy!?

The most unsafe pony in the University of Coltchester was safe!?

“What!?” Lyra shouted. Unlike him, she wasn’t trying to fight off a panic attack as her notions of her own safety were shaking. “Aren’t you a Privy Councillor for Her Radiant Majesty?”

That cheeriness faltered. At the words “Privy Councillor”, Twilight’s ears slightly drooped, and when “Her Radiant Majesty” was spoken, she looked off past the two ponies in front of her. “I...I would rather not talk about it right now, Lyra.” Her eyes went between the two ponies in front of her. A note of cheerfulness, now muted, returned. “I was excited to hear you two were coming here. I was just going to come to the welcome party to say hello, before I cause any trouble...”

What didst thou two weeks ago? WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?

Lyra looked at Etheigh, then huffed. “Come on Twilight. Holright and I both welcome you to our welcome party. You know I won’t let ponies mistreat you.”

Twilight tapped her hoof on the ground. “...Judging by the tone in your voice, Lyra, the trouble’s already happening.” She looked at the ground. “Thank you for coming, but I think I shouldn’t keep you. It’s good to see you’re both okay.”

“Twilight, come...” Lyra looked off for a second, then stomped her hoof on the ground. “Damn it Bonnie, I knew you weren’t telling me something!” she hissed.

“Lyra, Holright, please...” Twilight shook her head. “Just let me stay here. It’s for the best.”

“But...!” Lyra angrily glared at Twilight, then took a deep breath. “...Okay, Twilight. If you don’t want to come, I won’t force you.” With a firm look, she ended, “But I am coming by tomorrow to see my friend.”

“...Thanks, Lyra.”

Etheigh’s state of panic was such that he was only barely aware of the conversation in front of him. He didn’t know what to do. Why was Gorthy saying Twilight, much less Lyra, was safe? What was he supposed to...

Remember the librarian is safer than this party, or anypony here except me! Not that the safe ponies aren’t safe!

...Right. He was supposed to stay here, at the library, instead of the party. That was what Gorthy had all but said. Maybe he simply didn’t have the time to explain why Twilight was now safe, and so he had just sent him there so Etheigh couldn’t make his careless objections. A passing thought said that, of all the ponies to be sent to, Twilight was far from the worst.

Reflexively, he dismissed it. At least, he was pretty sure he did.

“Maybe we can talk tomorrow too, Holright,” Twilight wistfully spoke.

Okay, he needed to work his way into staying here as safely as possible. What was the safe thing to say? Think...! Think...! The sight of Lyra in his periphery inspired a thought that appealed to his inner drive for working to become a lawyer.

“I’d rather stay and talk now, if that’s alright, Twilight,” he responded. He forced himself to stand just a bit more firmly. “Any party where thou’rt not welcome is not a party I wish to attend.”

Lyra looked dumbfounded. Twilight shook her head, “You don’t have to do that, Holright.”

“I must. Thou wast a trustworthy friend.” Confusingly, that didn’t feel like a lie.

A bird flew past, chirping away. Lyra sighed, “...You’re making me look bad here, Holright. I would stay too, Twilight, but Bonnie’s going to kill me if I do.”

“...That’s okay.” There was a hint of a tone that drove him mad trying to answer why it was familiar. “I can see you tomorrow, Lyra.”

Lyra wistfully nodded, and, after another sigh, started to trot off. “It was good to see you, Twilight,” Lyra said.

“It was good to see you too.”

Lyra caught Etheigh’s gaze one more time. “You really are alright, Holright.”

Twilight and Etheigh stood there, watching the unicorn leave. The sun was now almost touching the horizon. “...You should really go with her, Holright. I’m one pony you knew for a year.”

Remember the librarian is safer than this party, or anypony here except me! Not that the safe ponies aren’t safe!

The safe thing to do was lie, and not say anything about safety. Yet, it didn’t give him any sense of dishonesty to tell her, “Yea. Thou’rt a pony I knew for a year. I should stay.”

“...Alright.” He could see the upper creases of a smile reach her eyes. “Let me show you around the library.” The mask on her face came off, and she gestured at his. “Oh, and you can take the mask off. It’s...” She coughed, blushing a bit. “Not needed.”

A mare, whom he was going to be alone with, was telling him not to wear his mask in the midst of heat season. That was extraordinarily unsafe. All he had was a politely vague “It’s not needed”. But he believ...

...

...Well, him not listening to her suggestion would lead to questions about why, if he was such a dedicated friend, he would not trust her. Questions which could lead to him either going back to the less safe party, or other questions that were unsafe. The most safe thing to do, in this situation, was to take off the mask.

With his hoof, he took off the mask, the fresh summer evening air surging into his lungs.

“Using thy hooves leads to ponies asking questions about thy horn,” Gorthy chided. “Judging by how thou didst that, this hath not been the only time thou’st done it recently.”

He stuffed the mask into his cloak. “Come in!” She turned around, and, perhaps because of the clothes (or, more likely, not...), there was no heated rush that came to him. “It’s not that grand a place, but I like it!”

He trotted in after her, the door shutting behind him. He stood at the edge of a circular chamber, at the center of which lay a wooden bust of a pony head. Bookshelves lined the walls, built into them, and a couple of desks standing around. A staircase at the end opposite the entrance led up to some second floor shielded by a door, whilst another door lay beside the ground level end of the staircase.

This was, at best, a personal library one might find in a smaller Coltchester estate. No such library, however, had been, by the looks of it, literally carved out of a tree. He was standing on a grand trunk, the windows were like the holes one might find in the side of the tree, and there was that smell of wood in the air. It was nothing like home, and yet it beckoned him to enter as if it was his own.

“This isn’t any great library, but-” Twilight began.

“Thou needest not convince me. I like it.” Her ears perked up a bit at that.

“...Well, Golden Oaks Library was built by, of all ponies, an earth pony named Pine Wood about thirty years ago. Some specially engineered seed that let it be big enough, and safe enough, for something to be carved out of it.” She gestured around at the bookshelves. “The collection was still using the old Royal organization, but I reorganized it to follow the modern Decimal system. Otherwise, there was weirdness like arcane texts being next to cooking books.”

That sounded like Twilight.

His eyes latched onto what he’d thought was a statue. A white-coated stallion stood next to the door at the bottom of the staircase, eyes staring forward, face frozen in the signature unemotionality of the Guard. He was clad in the deceptively ceremonial-appearing golden armor that clearly indicated he was part of one, single unit - the Celestian Guard. The unit dedicated to protection of Her Radiant Majesty, the officers of Her Office and Privy Council, and other ponies important to those bodies.

Immediately, he backed away. Why was a Celestian Guard here? Did Gorthy know the Guard was here? If he did, why did he say-

“Oh, Holright, I, um... I never introduced you in Coltchester, but this is Master Sergeant Sentry, Sergeant for short.” She gestured to the pegasus, who didn’t react in the slightest. “He didn’t have the armor on then, but, he’s been in charge of my security.” Right. Twilight Sparkle was Her Radiant Majesty’s personal student, and... “Even if... Nevermind.”

“Mr. Holright.” The Guard didn’t even look him in the eye saying that. Typical Royal Guard. He didn’t like being places with the Royal Guard, and now, he was going to be stuck in a small building with one who almost certainly could literally tear him apart.

Twilight must have sensed his discomfort. “...Sergeant, why don’t you go see how Spike is doing?”

“...Doctor.” He didn’t look at her either as he stamped his hoof and mechanically turned to open the door. Watching him descend down into what was apparently a basement was like watching a toy soldier move.

The two unicorns stared at one another. “...So, what brings you to Ponyville, Holright?”

He wasn’t sure what was and was not safe to say to her. He decided to say what he had said to Lyra on the train. “I’m here to read law under Lord Tall Order.”

“Oh, congratulations Holright!” She trotted over and, as though not a day had passed in two years, she wrapped him in a hug. He remained deathly still, but she seemed oblivious. “That’s wonderful! You must be so excited! You got your pre-law degree?”

“...Yea. With honors.”

“Oh, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest!” Her beaming face, filled with that familiar happiness he distantly recalled, pulled back a trot away from him. “You were always really dedicated to your studies!”

Not even the confusion of his situation could resist that happiness. It spread into him, and he genuinely smiled back at her. “Thank thee,” he earnestly replied. “Hast thou gotten thy doctorate?”

When Etheigh asked those five words, her delight cracked. Her joy wavered, her eager, straight legs bent, and she let out this short noise. Then, she spoke with a disturbingly tempered elation. “Oh, yeah...! I wrote my dissertation on the theory underlying Starswirl’s work... I... Was appointed Privy Councillor for Arcane Affairs...”

The last time he’d seen her, she was nothing but excited at the prospect of returning to Canterlot to pursue the final rung in her ladder. The last time they’d practiced Old Equish (though Etheigh had passed the one-semester course he was required to take), she rambled about all sorts of things. One he recalled was how she was going to use her doctorate to work to, once and for all, discredit something called “arcanic reconstitution”; it was something he didn’t understand, and she said was so worthless it didn’t warrant explanation.

It had been like watching the princess of some other country eagerly await to ascend their throne. Her whole life was getting ready to unfold, and she was going to change the world in a way Etheigh could never hope to.

So why was it like she was acting out her happiness now?

Etheigh didn’t ask what was wrong with other ponies. That was unsafe. Asking could get him involved in others’ problems, and that was a bad idea for a careless pony like him. But he was conc...

...

...No, him not asking what was wrong could lead to her asking questions about why he had acted like a dedicated friend, which would lead to questions. Questions which could lead to him either going back to the less safe party, or other questions that were unsafe. The most safe thing to do, in this situation, was to ask what was wrong.

“...Twilight?” he asked. “Art thou okay? When I last saw thee, thou wast... More eager.” He shouldn’t have added that explainer in. A good Coltchesterite didn’t say that to the mare of a house. They simply asked, and they would tell if they deigned to do so. She didn’t chide him for it, though.

“Y-yeah, I’m... Fine... I just...” After a moment, she just wordlessly turned and went to sit down by a bookshelf, staring at the ground. “...I’m sorry, Holright, it seems like I was just as much a happy surprise for you as for me, but... You should really go back to the party.”

Remember the librarian is safer than this party, or anypony here except me! Not that the safe ponies aren’t safe!

He looked up through a window. It was becoming dark. It wasn’t safe for him to go out with it getting dark out. It wasn’t... Not quite finishing his internal justifications of safety, he cautiously approached her, sitting down in front of her. “...What troubleth thee, Twilight?” he asked.

She scrunched her eyes shut. “...What happened in Coltchester two weeks ago?”

“They put everypony inside, even after the sun rose. Said we needed to ‘stay hospitable, stay indoors, and stay warm’. What-”

“I knew it!” Twilight suddenly barked and stamped her hoof, making him flinch. “They said the same thing here!” She spat that like it was an invective. Noticing his reaction, she immediately apologized. “Sorry, that wasn’t towards you. I...”

They were saying the same thing in Ponyville...? Halfway across the realm...?

What...?

“You should go. You deserve a moment where you don’t have to worry about everything.”

“...Right now, ‘tis the time for thy welcome party and blissful ignorance.”

He had no idea whether Gorthy knew or didn’t know anything that was wrong with Twilight, but he justified himself with that. Gorthy was saying the welcome party was the time for blissful ignorance, not the librarian.

“...What happened here, Twilight?”

She looked at him, then at the open door to the basement. It shut under her horn’s influence. Then, she looked at the entrance.

“...Do you know why...” She never finished her question, instead sharply inhaling. “...In May, I got my doctorate, and I was appointed Privy Councillor for Arcane Affairs,” she repeated. “I’ve worked my whole life for that. Gave up friendships, gave up family, gave up all that time for that. The whole world was right in front of me.”

She bit her lip. “...A month ago, Princess Celestia sends me here, to Ponyville, to act as her emissary for coordinating the Summer Sun Celebration.” His eyes widened a bit. He supposed he had forgotten Twilight lived in Canterlot. She shook her head. “It wasn’t surprising. I’m the new and notable Privy Councillor, and, as you know, I’m great at organizing...” She almost sorrowfully laughed that last bit.

He smiled nonetheless. She was a great organizer.

“The plan for me during the Celebration was that I would come out after the mayor had given a speech, and I would give a little lecture. Tell everypony about the magic governing the rotation of the planet, the ‘raising’ and ‘setting’ of the sun.” Twilight looked at him with grave solemnity. “Three days before the Celebration, I get a letter from Princess Celestia saying I should go and enjoy the ceremony in the crowd with any friends I’ve made.”

His jaw dropped. Why would Her Radiant Majesty do that? Twilight was... Was talented, and... and loy...

Although her continuation would have been an appropriate response, it sounded more like she was simply recalling what had happened. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong. And I try to figure it out for two days. I apologize furiously to her in writing for anything I can think of, and yet I get no response. When the day comes, and I try to personally talk to her, I’m told by the Guard that she doesn’t want to talk to me. I...” Her eyes began to water. “I just... I’m trying to figure out what I’ve done wrong when the Celebration starts...”

Two and a half weeks earlier...

Twilight stood almost alone in a clearing in a crowd of thousands packed into Ponyville town square. Even in this small town she’d been in for two weeks, everypony knew to keep their distance from a close confidant of Her Radiant Majesty that was watching it amidst the public. Bad reputations could spread. Sergeant Sentry, standing a couple of trots away, though, was probably happy that everypony was keeping their distance.

What had she done wrong? It didn’t make sense. She’d not been able to do anything for Princess Celestia yet. Was she supposed to do something, and she hadn’t done it yet? She’d thought she’d been proactive - before she’d left, for example, she’d been in a meeting with the Chancellor of Education as an advisory guest about how realm standards about arcane education should be reformed. Everypony had seemed impressed by this young mare, who wasn’t even in the middle of her twenties, going and talking like any of the other academics there who’d worked for decades.

It just didn’t make sense-

“Y’alright sugarcube?” Twilight was jolted out of her thoughts, and turned around to find Applejack had come over. Granny Smith may have been the matriarch of the Apple clan, but Applejack had been the one put in charge of coordinating food and other fares of the festivities. Rumor had it that, when Smith passed in a decade or two, Applejack was going to be her successor. Despite Twilight’s apprehensions about somepony that was part of a cartel, she and her had hit it off over the past weeks. Even if she seemed to genuinely believe the Apples could do no wrong, there was a ruggedness and honesty to her that was admirable.

“...No.” She frowned, looking down at the ground. “I... I don’t understand what I’ve done.”

Applejack sighed, shaking her head. “Y’know, sugarcube, ah’d normally say that ya needta just do more thinkin’ ‘bout whatcha done, but, with mah experience with ya, ah can’t in all honesty say that. Y’ain’t a lousy worker. Maybe it’s just politics.”

“What politics?” Twilight thought out loud. “Privy Councillors are supposed to be neutral.”

“Our family hasn’t done anything either!” Spike, the dragon she’d hatched and temporarily grown to a full adult when she was six, sat on her back so he could see the stage. Although his size and growth led many ponies to think her other “brother” was a “foal” when, in fact, he was sixteen.

“Y’all sure ‘bout that?” Applejack pointed up at the stage towards a random Royal Guard surveying the area. “Twah’s brother’s in charge of ‘Er Radiant Majesty’s security, and he ain’t here neither.”

Twilight’s family had a history with the Royal Guard, spanning back generations. They had a tradition of producing stallions who served with distinction as far back as the 1100s. Her father, Colonel Night Light, had led the Special Activities Unit, though he and the Royal Guard insisted he had never commanded a unit, which, in fact, did not and had never existed. Her brother, Captain Shining Armor, had been promoted to commanding the equally elite Celestian Guard two years prior, after his predecessor, Valiant Stand, retired.

“What would Shiny do?” Twilight used the affectionate name with Applejack with the same (often intentional and teasing) carelessness as when he would call Twilight “Twily”. “He doesn’t make mistakes, and if he does, everypony knows he’ll get them not only fixed, but improved.”

“Dunno. Ah’m a farmer an’ businessmare, not a Guard.”

She sighed, glancing up at the moon. Its craters recalled Twilight the tale of the Hench in the Moon. Princess Celestia, so the tale went, once had a brother, Artemis, who was seized by an ancient evil which transformed him into an abomination called the Black Knight. Believing the act would get it the same adoration as Princess Celestia, it halted the planet’s rotation to bring about eternal night. Princess Celestia, with great sorrow, was forced to permanently imprison the thing her brother had become in the moon, making the craters.

It was, of course, a foal’s tale. The Princess said ponies came up with all sorts of stories about her all the time. It was used by parents and teachers to teach foals not to be jealous, and that harming ponies only caused sadness, not glory. It was also a royalistic myth legitimizing the Princess, by contrasting her against an opposite who was every horrific thing the Princess could be with the living reality of what she was.

The reality was, astronomers all around the world, as every year, should have observed a halt in planetary rotation about an hour before. In but a few moments, the Princess would, in dramatic fashion, “raise the sun” as a display of not only her power, but the fact that, no matter the conflicts between her or her realm and anybody else, she would always protect life on the Earth. It was an act which, every year, every day, she did only because she had not yet found a way to lift Discord’s Curse.

So what had Twilight done to lead such a perfect, benevolent figure to bar her from being in there with her? Touting the meaning of what she did to everypony here? Introducing her, her teacher, her second mother?

“I swear Applejack...!” A white unicorn mare came up to the two. Rarity was a talented local seamstress that was one of Applejack’s friends. Twilight got the feeling part of why Rarity had partially struck up a friendship with herself was because of who she was and where she was from, but she seemed genuinely friendly nonetheless. “Our sisters are little demons!”

“What happened?” Applejack sounded like she was going to be having stern words with her filly sister, Apple Bloom, after this was done.

“‘Helping Her Radiant Majesty raise the sun’ talent marks.” Reportedly, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle (Rarity’s sister), and some pegasus filly named Scootaloo had a penchant for bad ideas in their pursuit of their talent marks. This sounded like something they would try.

An angered whinny came from the terran. “Little demons,” she repeated.

“Oh, won’t you put in a word for us, dear?” Rarity turned to Twilight, fluttering her eyes.

Twilight waved a dismissive hoof. “The Princess understands foals. She...” Well, that wasn’t her place to talk about. Even if almost no press but that of Ponyville was present for her to blab personal secrets to. Seemingly to prevent the small village from being overwhelmed by press, there had been a request that non-local press forgo this year’s Celebration. It was a bit odd, and had even drawn some criticism as “censorship”, but most had respected it.

Rarity walked up to her, planting a consoling hoof. “Twilight, I’m sure that, whatever this is, it’ll get fixed.” The mare glanced at Spike. “Won’t it, Spike?”

“O-of course, Rarity.” Spike had developed an instant and blatant crush on the mare when he first saw her. After the Celebration was over, and they were back in Canterlot, she needed to have a talk with him about having romantic affections for beings his own age.

“Everything’s ready to go!” A pink pony bounced up to the front. Pinkie Pie had been the one in charge of putting together festivities. She didn’t really hold any formal position in this town, but her talent was party making. It was hard to dislike her. She bounced up into Twilight’s face. “Aw, don’t be sad Twilight! Rarity’s right! It’s all a misunderstanding that’ll get fixed!”

“How do you...?” She hadn’t told Pinkie, who had an eerie...

Oh, right, everypony was avoiding her.

“I hope...” she sighed, her ears folding over. She didn’t want everything she’d worked towards for years to just be tossed aside. Spike patted and rubbed her neck.

“We can always stop by Donut Joe’s when we get back to Canterlot, Twilight,” Spike suggested. “He’ll know what to do.” The unicorn he referred to ran Twilight’s favorite restaurant, and she occasionally went to him for advice.

“Come on, Fluttershy.” A rainbow-maned pegasus came from the crowd, shepherding along with her a timid pegasus. “This is a once in a lifetime event.”

Twilight saw Fluttershy’s lips move, but couldn’t hear what she said over the din. Rainbow Dash was in charge of weather control and, informally, coordinating security. The weather team had been thoroughly vetted, as they were the only ones, barring the Guard, allowed to fly above a certain height today. If somepony tried to do something, which almost certainly wouldn’t happen, the weather team would also help provide a cover for the Princess.

She didn’t really know Fluttershy. Apparently, she was some old friend of Rainbow Dash from school that moved here to Ponyville too. It seemed like, from what she’d seen, a small place like Ponyville where everypony knew one another was the right place for her. Interestingly, she apparently was quite familiar with the Everfree; she and an older mare studied its wildlife.

As the two came forward into the clearing, Rainbow Dash glanced up at Twilight. “Hey, uh, sorry to hear about what’s happening.”

Twilight nodded, looking back up at the stage. Rainbow Dash had been working for years to join the military part of the Royal Guard, with an eye to eventually joining the famed Wonderbolts, but had been constantly rejected. Even though Rainbow’s condolences were brief, Twilight knew they were sincere, after her constantly seeing her dreams dashed.

A familiar pegasus set down in front of her, leaning in towards Sergeant Sentry and whispering something. Lieutenant Smalbrook Gorhench, her brother’s second-in-command. To Twilight’s unease, Sergeant Sentry’s, for a blink-and-miss-it instant, looked directly at Twilight. After more whispering, the two saluted one another, and Gorhench flew off.

Twilight approached her bodyguard, a bit nervous. “What’s going on, Flash?” She used the first part of his name.

“Nothing, Doctor.” He turned to face the stage. “Just final updates on security.”

Something wasn’t quite right in his voice. Equestrian Royal Guards were known the world over for their demeanor on duty, and his wasn’t completely flat. “Is something wrong?”

Making her even more concerned, he didn’t immediately respond. “...No threats warranting action, Doctor.”

Okay...?

“What does that mean-” Twilight began to ask.

A spotlight mounted from the back of town square shifted onto the stage as a royal military flourish began to play. She decided to leave the matter, if there wasn’t anything “warranting action”. Everypony quieted down, eyes turning towards the stage. A Celestian Guard walking onto the platform placed a single hoof on, glancing around momentarily before fully coming on. Behind him, Executive Action, or “Mayor Mare” as she was called, trotted up with another Guard.

Executive Action was alright. She seemed like she genuinely cared about the village she was elected to govern, but her ambition rubbed Twilight the wrong way. She had lobbied Canterlot hard for what was, at best, a longshot Summer Sun Celebration; by no fault of her own, she was taking credit for her apparent success. The fact, though, was that the Princess personally chose Ponyville over the obvious option of Hooftington without explanation. The Princess was like that, sometimes. Made strange decisions with indiscernible reasons for why she did them. That was what all the rest of the state was for. To keep the logic of a god in check.

“Fillies and gentlecolts!” Her voice, only hardly amplified by magic, spread out across the square. “As Mayor of Ponyville, it is my great pleasure to announce the beginning of the Summer Sun Celebration!”

A great cheer erupted throughout the square, and the earth quaked under the thunder of a thousand pairs of stomping hooves. Twilight cheered with them, but perhaps not as hard.

“In just a few moments, our town will witness the magic of the sunrise, and celebrate this, the Longest Day of the Year!” Another cheer, and then Executive Action, predictably took the moment to make her own political speech. “But first, on behalf of every citizen of Ponyville, I wish to humbly thank Her Radiant Majesty for visiting our humble village...”

Twilight tuned it out, opting to ruminate further.

Was this one of the Princess’s strange decisions? Had she, in fact, not done anything wrong, and this was some move towards some end in months or even years? It bordered on conspiratorial thinking, but this just didn’t make sense. Even if her brother had somehow badly messed up, Princess Celestia wouldn’t take that out on Twilight, who she’d stood behind for almost decades. But what could possibly be the end?

Somewhere, there was a quiet roll of thunder, and a cold wind blew upon her coat, making her shiver. She glanced around - not a cloud in sight. Not even over the Everfree. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one who felt it either - Rainbow Dash was looking somewhere between confused and ready to yell at the weather team.

“...But now, it is my great pleasure to introduce the ruler of our land...” Twilight looked back at the stage, shaking her head. Must have been the Everfree.

“Um, Twilight...” Spike’s voice wavered like a skyscraper bending over to collapse.

“What?”

“...the very Shepherd of the Sun and the Moon each and every day...”

“The Hench in the Moon is gone,” Spike breathed.

Her eyes turned skywards. “The Hench in the Moon is gone.” She knew she shouldn’t have let him stay up all night. Now, he was seeing...

“...the Good and Wise Bringer of Harmony to all of Equestria...”

The Hench in the Moon was, indeed, gone.

That was impossible.

Those were physical craters.

Astronomers searching for evidence of extraterrestrial life surveyed the moon for arcane signatures, sometimes cheekily naming their papers with titles like "Is there a Hench on the Moon?".

IT WAS ALWAYS AS DEAD AS THE REST OF THE SOLAR SYSTEM.

“...Her Radiant Majesty, Princess Celestia!”

No matter how much she blinked or thought this was a dream for three straight seconds, the craters refused to reappear.

Twilight’s heart began beating hard enough she feared she might have a heart attack, and she looked back towards the entrance to town hall. It opened, with the Guard playing the national anthem until, without warning, it faltered.

Nothing happened. Nopony came out.

Mayor Mare eventually looked backwards, and then jumped back. The smooth charisma and charm that had characterized her over the past two weeks was gone. All that was left was pinprick eyes and trembling hooves.

“Remain calm, everypony!” she shouted.

Remain calm? What?! Why!? WHAT’S GOING ON?!

Celestian Guards flooded the stage. Lieutenant Gorhench began pointing at random Guards, and shouting orders. Sergeant Sentry started to immediately back up towards Twilight, his head swivelling as he looked for threats.
“Doctor, we need to...” Along with half the crowd, his head stopped on the moon, his jaw dropping. “Twilight...” Gone was the famed indifference of the Guard. All that was left in saying her name was the same pure, visceral terror at that unrelenting sight hanging in the sky she felt.

A small patch of the starry night sky began to drip down from the heavens. It wasn’t noticeable at first, but it eventually became thick enough that she noticed it in her periphery and gazed towards the stage. It gradually pooled into what resembled a nebula upon the center of the stage, coalescing like food at the bottom of a sink.

A primal fear entered Twilight. She began to slowly step back, along with Sergeant Sentry, several other Guards, the Mayor, and everypony else.

THE HENCH IN THE MOON IS GONE!

THAT’S JUST A FOAL’S TALE!

The moon mocked everything Twilight and millions upon millions of souls had ever been taught to believe as a fact of life. No matter how much she blinked, no matter how much she screamed this was a nightmare, not a single crater reappeared. Then, neurons connected in her head, and she stared past the nebula into the town hall. Though the cloud blocked her view, the reaction of the Mayor and the Guard when the doors told her one simple, horrific fact.

PRINCESS CELESTIA WAS GONE.

“Get back,” somepony called. It was only when she lit her horn and directed magic at herself and anypony close to her that Twilight realized it was her own voice. Celestia had taught her a spell used by the Celestian Guard once, and advised her to always use it in the presence of those more powerful than herself. It protected one’s mind from being read or manipulated. “Get back!” Twilight shouted louder.

A few Royal Guards began to advance towards the forming nebula upon the stage, weapons drawn, horns lit. Their seemingly ceremonial armor now revealed its true might, arcane shields appearing around pegasi, unicorns, and terrans alike, points of energy coalescing to form the threat of directed arcana alongside their blades, spears, and experimental “firearms”. Anypony who found themselves in such a between them had no reason to do anything but surrender. Surrender meant trial, and even life in prison if found guilt, but it wasn’t certain death.

Any pony.

Sergeant Sentry placed a hoof on Twilight. “We need to leave...!”

The Royal Guards had just about encircled the cloud when, like a great bird flapping away a cloud, the nebula that had come down to the earth dissipated in a great explosion. Those who made the mistake of approaching had their armor’s world-class arcane augmentations and protections visibly burst in magical overload, and they were cast aside like a foal’s toy soldiers, soaring into the air and smashing into and through the town hall, or flying out across the town square. She watched one all but splatter like a bug on the roof of the hall.

In place of the nebula, a great, looming thing that resembled a stallion stood on the center of the stage, clad in a metallic grey armor that vaguely resembled the Celestian Guards’. The nebula now flowed out from its hind like the radiant beams of sunlight did from Celestia, though its “mane” was covered by a helmet whose hairs glowed like the night sky. Sharp fangs shone like white metal from its mouth, and the pupils of its eyes were narrow like a snake as they ran over the crowd. Its coat didn’t have color - it was simply a black void in reality.

Princess Celestia was the perfection of the equine form.

This thing was its twisted mockery.

It was a legend, a Black Knight, come to life.

Twilight and everypony else was so terrified that they had forgotten how to even scream.

Something resembling two voices speaking as one broke the silence. There were hints of a masculine, suave voice, but it was utterly overpowered by that voice’s pitch being lowered to a discordant key in another voice.

“Ūre dīeran underdāne...” As the Black Knight spoke, it also began speaking inside Twilight’s head. “Our beloved subjects...”

Twilight... Didn’t need the translation. She spoke Old Equish fluently, and sometimes held entire conversations with Princess Celestia in it. Occasionally, Princess Celestia would even refuse to speak in anything other than Old Equish with Twilight, especially recently. Twilight had always appreciated the ability to practice what wasn’t a very practical skill.

The Black Knight’s head swivelled back and forth like a plastic doll, apparently in imitation of a disapproving shake of the head. Everypony took another step backwards. “Wē habbaþ ne ēowre luflīċan, sunne-lystande andwlitan in tīda sewen!” (“We have not seen your lovely, sun-lusting faces in ages!”)

Rainbow Dash, before even a single Royal Guard, somehow managed to break through the terror. She boldly and stupidly started to take to the air, roaring “What did you do with Her-!”

Applejack, thankfully, broke through her fear as well, and tackled Rainbow Dash down to the ground. Had she acted but an instant later, a tendril of the night sky that lashed forth from the Black Knight would have killed Rainbow Dash like the Guards.

“Wes stillu!” (“Be quiet!”) The Black Knight’s voice roared loud enough that Twilight’s ears rang. It slammed its hoof at its perversion of military armor, and there was a burst of air that almost threatened to knock Twilight over. “Sind wē ne cyngliċe ġenōg for ēow!?” (“Are we not royal enough for you!?”)

The Black Knight’s hoof proceeded to slam into the stage, and the entire center instantly exploded into sawdust. It stood on thin air, as though the wood was still there. “Is ūre wuldorbēag ne æfter ġēarþūsend unrihtwīses fengsċipes ġeteald!?” (“Is our crown not counted after a millennium of unjust imprisonment!?”) It pumped its wings once and soared into the air, remaining suspended about ten trots above the ground as though gravity were a suggestion, and not a law. “Habbaþ ne ūrne sagan hīered!?” (“Have you not heard our story!?”)

In that moment, Twilight Sparkle decided one thing. She, everybody in Ponyville, and everybody on the Earth, was going to die. If she was going to die, however, she refused to die on anything but her own terms. She would not be a pony fleeing and shrieking that she didn’t want to die.

She was going to die as Princess Celestia’s personal student, Privy Councillor on Arcane Affairs, and a doctor of the arcane. She was going to do everything she could to try and stop this thing above her. That didn’t mean a suicidal magical attack like the Guards. No, no. She was an arcanist, a scientist, an organizer. She followed a systematic method that had transformed Equestrian society from a mighty agrarian realm to the innovating superpower of the world.

Step one. Establish the question.

Question. How does Twilight Sparkle stop the Black Knight?

Step two. Collect and assess evidence from personal observations and previous studies. Time for collection and field assessment of personal observations.

“...I remember you, Black Knight.”

The Black Knight’s head snapped to Twilight, and the crowd immediately moved away. Only Spike, Sergeant Sentry, and the ponies she’d befriended didn’t move (Fluttershy was held back by Rainbow Dash).

The very heavens roared down at Twilight, “WĒ SIND NE BLÆC CNIHT! WĒ SIND ĒOWER ĠERIHT CYNG, ARTEMIS!” (“WE ARE NOT A BLACK KNIGHT! WE ARE YOUR RIGHTEOUS KING, ARTEMIS!”)

Fact one. The Black Knight believed it was Artemis, or was pretending to be Artemis. Considering how it was a thousand years out of step, it could be that it simply didn’t have the time yet to discover the character of Artemis, should he, in fact, be a myth. Just because the Black Knight existed didn’t mean that Artemis did. But the fact that it was using his name could suggest he had.

Interesting.

“My apologies.” The calm in her own voice disturbed her. “I remember you, Artemis.”

Twilight had anticipated that it wasn’t going to let go of her calling it what it was. Or, simply, kill her where she stood.

Instead, the abomination grinned like it had gone even more insane. “Horsling þe sē ūre ġeman!” (“A pony who remembers us!”) it cackled with glee. “Ġēa! ĠĒA! HĪEREST ÞÆT FRAM ÞǢRE SUNNAN SWEOSTER? WĒ SIND ĠEMUNEN!” (“Yes! YES! DO YOU HEAR THAT FROM THE SUN SISTER? WE ARE REMEMBERED!”)

The Black Knight began clapping its hooves together like an excited little colt. “Hwæt ġemanst ūre? Wē willaþ witan! Wē willaþ witan!” (“What do you remember of us? We want to know! We want to know!”)

Fact two. The Black Knight liked being regarded as Artemis. To the point it was descending into foalish delight over Twilight doing so. If it had read the minds of everypony, the subject of its delight was an apparently disgraced Privy Councillor and personal student of Princess Celestia. If it hadn’t, the subject of its delight was some random unicorn.

Fact three. Princess Celestia had, in some sense, just received the same treatment as the Black Knight, apparently being “at the Sun”. That, in and of itself, meant nothing. That could mean she was teleported into the stellar core, which would, in all likelihood, instantly vaporize her. Or, that could mean she was being held by similar means as the Black Knight apparently had been for a thousand years. That the Black Knight was talking to her could suggest that the latter had occurred. There was a chance Twilight’s “other mother” was still alive.

Fact four. The Black Knight liked being regarded as Artemis. To the point that it was shouting at his either alive or dead sister like it was bragging in an argument. That could imply Princess Celestia, like the tale, refused to recognize the Black Knight as her own brother. Which could further imply that Artemis had, in fact, been a real pony.

Interesting.

“I remember that you want the world to adore you, Artemis.”

“ĠĒA!” (“YES!”) The very Earth rung with its joyous voice. “Wē willaþ þā lufe for ūre sweoster habban!” (“We want the love for our sister!”)

Fact five. The Black Knight wanted, or pretended to want, whatever it perceived to be the same level of love as the world had for Princess Celestia. By that, it meant it wanted to share it with her, or it meant it wanted to seize that love.

Not quite news, but providing a framework of options. Useful.

“I also remember you want to kill everybody-”

“LYĠENNE SWEOSTER!” (“SISTER’S LIES!”) it shrieked.

Fact six. The Black Knight believed, or was pretending, that it didn’t want to kill everybody. Despite the implications of the foal’s tale.

Interesting. Move towards clarification.

“The world is going to freeze and burn under your eternal night, Artemis!”

The Black Knight shifted down towards Twilight, and everypony but those who had previously remained still got further back. When it shifted, it didn’t actually move a single part of its body. It just slid down towards her, until it was maybe three or four trots away.

“NE!” (“NO!”) it maniacally roared. She was pretty sure she felt Spike lose his balance, faint, or go into cardiac arrest. Any of the three ways, he fell on her back. “WĒ ENDIAÞ ÞĀ NIHT! EALLE SĊULON BÆRLIĊE ÞĀ SUNNAN AND ÞONE MŌNAN ANBEDAN!” (“WE WILL END THE NIGHT! ALL MUST SIMPLY WORSHIP THE SUN AND THE MOON!”)

Fact seven. The Black Knight believed, or was pretending, that it would end the night at some point. The qualifier was when it received whatever it perceived to be the same level of love as the world had for Princess Celestia. From the phrasing, it seemed like the sharing interpretation of fact five was correct.

Interesting, but time for clarification. It could easily have so high a standard that there was no meaningful difference from an eternal night.

“And what does worship mean, Artemis? Is it fear? Are you Discord? Because this won’t do anything but make everypony fear you.”

Silence.

The Black Knight stared at her, then its head began to swivel like a plastic doll again, shaking back and forth.

Fact eight. The Black Night was shaking its head in response to her question. It could be indicating a negative, which was supported by the last time it shook its head. Alternatively, it could be the Nightmare looking at everypony, as supported by its eyes moving around, and the fact that any other time Twilight had been wrong in its eyes, it had shouted at her.

The Nightmare’s head stopped swiveling, settling back on Twilight. Still, it said nothing.

Curious.

Before Twilight could further continue, collection and field assessment of personal observations was forced to a halt.

“EVERYPONY RUN HOME NOW!” Some of the remaining Celestial Guards sprung into action, pegasi flying at the thing with winged blades.

Twilight immediately cast her brother’s signature shield spell, as he had taught it to her, over her surroundings just before eldritch lightning shot out from the Black Knight to strike its assailants. The Guards shrieked as if being tortured until they simply fell from the sky like dead birds.

In awe and horror, she watched the Black Knight’s lightning lash down near her, and not burst the spell as it should have. Instead, the lightning went through the bubble and struck Sergeant Sentry, who began shrieking. And didn’t stop shrieking.

She might have made an addendum to personal observations at that, but scientist Twilight was taking a break. Now, sane pony Twilight was utterly horrified at how he and everypony else was screaming and wouldn’t stop screaming!

Sane pony Twilight had the simple desire to survive and the desire to make sure as many ponies as possible survived. Screaming, she teleported herself, Spike, Sergeant Sentry, and the other ponies within her shield to the first safe place she could think of: the library. She successfully did it. Well, almost successfully. As she and everypony else immediately found out by falling onto their backs, she had teleported in upside down.

When scientist Twilight clocked back in, it would be time for collection and assessment of previous studies.

“...It just killed and killed and killed like nopony was anything!”

Twilight was bawling. Etheigh had weakly tried to get her to stop talking about what had happened two weeks ago as she wailed into his neck. She just kept going, kept rambling about how her snub from speaking at the Celebration had transformed into bearing witness to a horrific attack by a monster straight out of foal’s tales.

A young drake had emerged from the basement at some point, running over and clinging to Twilight. He tried to say it was okay and it was all over now, before he too just started crying like a newborn. Sergeant Sentry, somehow alive and seemingly well despite being attacked by the Nightmare, had emerged as well.

And he was on the floor with them, weeping and shaking as well, his helmet cast off.

Etheigh was crying too, wondering when Gorthy was going to come. Wondering how Gorthy could have ever had him come when there were three notable facts about Ponyville that he had known.

The first was that it was the home of the Apple cartel.

The second was that terrans had been mad enough to settle next to the Everfree.

The third, no longer conjecture, was that this was the place the Black Knight returned.

Author's Note

"Hench" is a word artificially evolved from the Old English word for "stallion", henġest. The Old English word only survives in the modern English word henchman. In the context of the Long Night-verse, hench was supplanted by stallion during the Scientific Revolution of the 1200s, although jument "mare" never quite took off; the "Hench in the Moon" is an in-universe relic.

In the Long Night-verse, Princess Celestia doesn't actually control the motions of the sun, but the rotation of the planet. About a hundred years after the unification of the Three Tribes in the year 1, Discord started wreaking havoc. The exact timelines aren't precisely clear during this time, but at some point Celestia (and her legendary brother Artemis) appeared to fight against him. Celestia, at this point, didn't have her talent mark, and was simply an extremely powerful pony trying to do right. In the final confrontation, Celestia presented Discord an ultimatum: stand down, or have a mysterious magical artifact wielded against him. As in canon, Discord didn't take it seriously - but because he answered the ultimatum by taking the entire planet hostage, using a curse to tidally lock one side of the planet to the sun. Despite the risk of rendering the planet all but inhospitable, Celestia overthrew Discord. She searched for a way to lift the curse, but could not find a way to undo it (and never has). In a desperate last attempt, she tried to brute force rotation and succeeded, "raising the sun" for the first time, and earning her talent mark.

Obviously, the story has, to this point, diverged from established lore in a number of ways. However, I fully admit that the Cutie Mark Crusaders forming earlier than in canon was (at first) purely for the one line of "'Helping Her Radiant Majesty raise the sun' talent marks" :scootangel: