Of Ink and Quill

Chapters

1 - A Walk in the Woods
2 - Man in the Mirror
3 - Weather Bird
4 - Heart in a Bottle
5 - Dawn Amble

1 - A Walk in the Woods

The sun rose high above the castle as a solitary figure made its way down the castle steps. He was a strange unicorn, wearing a pair of odd metal boots on his forelegs and carrying some worn old saddlebags. His coat was parchment brown, his mane a darker (if uninspired) brown. His cutie mark was like a spill of black ink, a stain that meant everything and yet nothing.

Perhaps he was a traveler, a writer of some kind. Here in Ponyville to write the Great Equestrian Novel.

But he wasn't a writer. His name was Ink Blot. Or at least, that's what he went by these days. None would guess that he came from another world, one that had known great suffering and despair. His old name, which no one still living knew, was Liam Archer. A human. A soldier. He'd been thrown out of his world by forces outside of his control, and lost his memories. He'd spent his first week trying to recover them. He'd met some good people who'd offered him their help.

Well, he had them back now. And he was trapped in Equestria, in a land as foreign to him as the one a council of old men had decided would be the battleground for their petty wars of self-interest. He'd served in that war. Seen a lot of good men and women give up their lives for something they'd thought was a just cause.

Where was he going? To a memorial he'd made in the woods, for a brother-in-arms; Isaiah Knight, longtime friend and fellow veteran of the war, who'd given his life to protect Archer.

Ink Blot had erected a small cross in the woods near where he'd first appeared in Equestria, in a little glade near the western border of the Everfree Forest. Around the cross's base was a pile of stones, and from the cross hung a small necklace. Or at least, it could be mistaken for one. In actuality it was a form of identification, embossed discs of steel no larger than a bottlecap with the soldier's particulars written on them.

It was all Ink Blot had left of Knight.

He'd been coming here every day since he'd recovered from the process that had returned his memories to him. Mourning for a past that had never been, for a future that never would be, trying to keep hold of what he could.

"He meant a lot to you, didn't he?" asked a familiar voice from the shadows.

Ink Blot smiled briefly, knowing exactly who was talking to him. "Did I ever tell you about the time we played a prank on our instructors? Replaced the chocolate in their field rations with laxatives made to look like Prince's bars. My idea, but Knight took the fall for it the next day. I felt guilty about him doing that for me and offered to watch eachother's backs."

"Was that during your training?" asked Quill the Changeling, creeping out from the dying undergrowth. He sat down beside Ink Blot.

"Yeah," Ink Blot replied. "We didn't hate our instructors -- they were only doing their jobs, after all. The harder your instructors were, the easier it'd be when you got down to the actual fighting. At least that was the theory. Did it work? Not always. The important thing to remember was that they were doing it because that's what they'd been told."

"Was it hard?"

Ink Blot shrugged. "Not as hard as they made it out to be. When I went through, it was mostly just a filter that they tried to force as many people as possible through. They wanted to be able to replace losses as they came, they started gambling on how far they could push the bar between Quality and Quantity. More troops you had, the more you could do, but unless you had the time to properly train them all their overall performance would suffer. Fewer troops took less time to train, and you could train them more thoroughly. They wanted to find a balance that suited their needs."

"Sounds familiar," Quill chuckled.

"Was it like that in the Hive?" Ink Blot asked.

"Chrysalis wanted a hegemony. She wanted to control Equestria, but there would become a point where the Under-Hives would grow in power and influence, where eventually there'd be some kind of split. A rival Queen, diverting valuable resources to found her own Hive? Or even rising against Chrysalis to take control for herself? She wanted to be the only one in charge, and so she focused as much time to growing her own power as she did subverting Equestria." Quill said, comically rolling his eyes.

"You said she almost managed it, too."

"But in the end she didn't. Both times her plans were foiled by tiny details that had gone overlooked. Or maybe she'd miscalculated. I don't exactly know for myself, just what I've heard of after the fact." Quill frowned, trying to think of other possibilities. He fluttered his glittery wings pensively.

Ink Blot nodded. "What happened to the Under-Hives? Did they all join Thorax?"

"Ocellus says so," Quill shrugged. "But I don't believe it. There were six underhives, ringing the capital like spokes on a wheel. Chrysalis isn't dead, at least not yet, so unless they've completely embraced Friendship they could still have some loyalty to her. Or maybe there's a Queen larva they've been hiding all this time. Hard to know unless we saw them for ourselves."

"What makes you skeptical? Would Ocellus lie?"

Quill smiled and shook his head, like it was an obvious answer. "Ocellus wouldn't lie. Not in her nature to lie about something like that. But, there's more than one way to spread a lie. I should know better than most. I was made for it after all."

"So you're suggesting that Thorax hasn't given Equestria the entire truth, which includes Ocellus and his other emissaries?" Ink Blot said, trying to sum it up.

"Maybe... maybe. If he's half as smart as he pretends to be, then he'll try to keep internal divisions like that quiet. Chrysalis didn't get as far as she did without silencing dissent. Thorax got exiled because he threatened her power."

"But Chrysalis lost, and Thorax is in charge now," Ink Blot pointed out. "She got turned into a statue for all eternity."

"That also happened to Discord. He got petrified for millennia, but eventually escaped. When he did he wreaked havoc." Quill retorted.

"Discord was defeated as well, and now he spends his days drinking tea with a pegasus who likes taking care of animals."
Ink Blot countered.

Quill shook his head noncommittally. "True. But despite that he's not exactly a force of good. He helps when it pleases him, and usually not at all. Sometimes he even makes it worse."

"Also true." Ink Blot agreed.

A silence fell over them as they considered eachother's words. They had not come to a conclusion, but they had come closer to an agreement.

Eventually, Ink Blot felt the need to ask a question to keep the convesation going. "So, how are you getting on with all those friendship studies?"

"It's hard," Quill said. "My whole life, I was taught that friendship's just a means to an end, a way to get a quick snack when things were rough, to be inevitably discarded when your assignment came. And then, when Thorax took over, it felt... well... taboo. I said before that I thought it was a false flag to root out Changeling infiltrators?"

"Something along those lines."

"Well, it's because I was told that by one of Chrysalis's inner circle. Cardioid, one of her most trusted advisors. He was a real piece of work, helped iron out the plans for their Grand Infiltration, the one that Starlight and Thorax foiled. He came to me and told me not to believe their lies. And for some reason I believed him, despite how he was responsible for the deaths of my brood-mates."

"What happened to him?" Ink Blot asked curiously.

"I don't know." Quill confessed. He was quiet for a while as he thought about something. "You know, it's so different being out here than it was in the Hive. Under Chrysalis, it was all about power and dominance. Whoever was the strongest was the one who called the shots. Chrysalis was the strongest, and she made sure to pit her most dangerous potential rivals against one another instead of against her, offering to share her power with them in exchange for loyalty. She never had any intentions of returning that loyalty, of course, but it made for an... interesting hierarchy. It was cutthroat at the best of times. But out here? Trust goes a long way. I trust you, and I think you trust me. You wouldn't be so open about things with me otherwise."

"Infiltrator's intuition strikes again, I see." Ink Blot chuckled.

He shook his head and stressed his words. "Not intuition. Experience. Another Changeling from the old Hive would have ratted me out to the snatchers, but you didn't. You didn't have to let down your guard so I could try and see what was wrong with you, but you did. You didn't even have to talk to me when you saw me in the bakery that day. But you did. And so I trust you."

"You remind me a lot of him. You've got the same spirit he did. He'd be happy that there was someone to take over for him." Ink Blot smiled sadly, looking over to Knight's memorial.

"Maybe." Quill replied. "You gonna come back to town? It's not why I came, but Starlight said that she wanted you to consider the School of Friendship."

Ink Blot waved him off. "Eventually. I'd like a little while alone, then I'll pop by."

Quill nodded and let him be. He disappeared into the undergrowth, blending into the shadows like a panther. Ink Blot didn't worry though, and trusted that he'd been left alone. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes. Meditation was the key.

But... he was not at peace. His thoughts were clouded with doubt and confusion. He puzzled over what had led him to Equestria. What was it that the cult leader had said? Something about becoming a god? Tearing a hole in reality? Perhaps Zecora's metaphor ran deeper than he'd thought. Reality was a fabric, but alternate realities seemed to co-exist. Realities were created by decisions which diverged them from similar realities. Mind boggling stuff.

It disturbed him, thinking about the implications. Magic, by and large, was something not fully understood. Those who controlled it knew how to use it, but not why it worked. It just did. That meant that someone could conceivably do something without fully understanding the consequences. A butterfly flaps its wings, and creates a breeze that becomes a tornado. Exactly what Starlight had once done. Perhaps she had insight on the matter, or the good Doctor?

Ink Blot shook his head. It was too much, and all this existentialism was filling his heart with dread. Dread that he was small and insignificant, at the whims of higher powers. It was better to ignore such questions and live normally.

He needed to clear his head.

So, he decided to take a walk in the woods.

Even though the leaves had changed, the deep forest remained as dreary as ever. Strange noises echoes in the distance, and strange plants grew just off the beaten path. He was entering the Everfree Forest, feared by ponies for its unstable nature. Everything within was foreign to ponykind in some way, where life continued without their assistance or support. Creatures both magical and mundane made their homes there, and many dangers lurked in the darkness.

But Ink Blot was not daunted. He wasn't unafraid, but he did not let it affect him. The Everfree was one of few places that ponies feared to tread, which was precisely the reason why he felt more at ease. Elsewhere, the local fauna were too friendly, too ready to accept the presence of strange ponies. Back home the animals knew well not to approach humans. In the Everfree he was closer to home than he'd ever be in all of Equestria.

Not to say that he was unprepared. He'd been practicing with the hidden blades that Gyro had added to his boots alongside the rudimentary claws. He was by no means an expert -- he was experimenting with creating a unique martial art, after all -- but he was confident that he could defend himself if attacked. He also carried some back-up supplies in case he ran into a tough spot. Medical, survival, and the like.

But suddenly, Ink Blot halted. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Something smelled... foul. And it was close. He looked around him cautiously. He knew that he wasn't alone, that something was stalking him. He flexed his muscles in anticipation, and prepared to stand his ground.

The tiniest sound gave his pursuers away. The clatter of wood on wood, tree branches rubbing together. Ink Blot turned slowly and identified a pair of glowing yellow orbs. The eyes of a predator. Ink Blot stared into them as he flicked open one of his blades...

The beast leapt forward, revealing itself! Ink Blot dropped and rolled to the side, as its claws whistled past his head and into the soft earth. He scrambled to his hooves and thrust his blade towards the beast desperately.

But his attack was hopeless. His blade glanced off the beast's craggy hide, and skated ineffectually down its side. Ink Blot drew away, his mind racing to figure out what to do. And in those moments he looked upon his foe, and understood his mistake.

It was a massive wolf, at least twice his height if not more. Except it wasn't flesh and blood, but wood and sap.

A Timberwolf.

Even though he'd never seen one in the bark before, the terrifying Timberwolves had a reputation. He'd heard the stories, but had dismissed them.

That was fine. He could defeat it, he just needed to figure out how.

The beast leapt forth once again, its teeth gnashing and claws slashing. But Ink Blot rolled to the side yet again, striking at its leg, where the wood was thin. His blade flew forward, and he felt his blade sink in...

...and become stuck.

The beast kicked in pain, throwing Ink Blot to the ground. It whimpered, but the whimper was soon followed by a bone-chilling growl.

As well as distant howling. A single voice that was joined by a chorus of its fellows.

The pack was approaching.

Shit, Ink Blot thought to himself.

Placing his free hoof on the beast's side, he heaved on the blade, trying to free it. The beast shook and snapped at him, but instinctively he struck first, lashing out with a powerful kick from his hind legs. He felt his hooves strike wood, which gave off a loud *Crunch!*.

He looked back, and saw that the beast's head had been knocked clean off! It flew to the ground a few feet away, shattering into its component scraps of wood. The pieces scattered across the forest floor, and soon the rest of the body gave a final shudder as it too fell apart.

Ink Blot frowned. Was it really that easy to destroy a Timberwolf? He didn't have longtime to linger on it, as he quickly spotted more pairs of eyes piercing the darkness.

He needed to get to safety. He stomped down on the piece of wood that still held is blade, and jerked it once more, side to side, trying to wiggle it free. Success! He quickly retracted the blade, and turned around. Without a moment to lose he charged blindly into the forest.

He could hear the wooden clatter of the Timberwolves behind him, nipping at his heels. He needed an escape route, fast.

There! A patch of brambles, thick and impassable. But not impassable for one who had something to cut them with. Ink Blot dove to the ground, ignoring how the gravel scraped his legs and hide, and hit the catch to release one of his blades. Gritting his teeth, he slashed at the base of the brambles. He quickly had a space large enough to fit himself in, and wasted no time in crawling under their prickly bulk.

The pack of Timberwolves chasing him halted not far from the brambles, either unwilling or unable to come any closer. Their leader pawed at the dirt and growled like a monstrous engine -- a clear threat. They did not advance any further, likely weighing the options of trying to roust their quarry from its hide. They watched Ink Blot as he huddled under the brambles, his blade at the ready.

Then the pack leader turned away, the rest of the Timberwolves following. There was easier prey to be found, and they had wasted enough time on this interloper. Ink Blot stared at them as they left. Only when they were long out of sight did he relax and breathe a sigh of relief.

He took some time to calm himself down before crawling out, his heartbeat returning to normal levels. He'd come a lot closer to death than he would have liked. It probably would have been a good idea to go back to town at this point, but there was something odd about where he'd ended up. He could feel it.

Ink Blot looked around. The only thing of interest was the brambles, which formed a ring around something very peculiar.

An exceptional large grey boulder.

It had a strange allure about it, an air of covetousness. It whispered at the farthest reaches of his mind, promising... wealth... riches... fortune...

He didn't want any of that, but the boulder intrigued him for other reasons. It was oddly round, like it had been shaped. Had it been rolled into place? How long ago? Not that long, or there would have been moss growing on it. Why was it there?

Ink Blot went closer, peering through the brambles as best he could. There was a hole on the other side of them, which the boulder rested beside. No... judging by the size of the entry and how it narrowed shortly after, the boulder had previously sealed the hole. How long ago had the seal been broken? Impossible to tell.

Still, he was curious. Probably more-so than he should have been. But if he went in, he would need to ensure that he was able to get back out again.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a flare. Using his claws, he clumsily struck the flare, which began to burn a harsh red. He threw it into the hole, watching as it rolled along the slope of the hole before coming to a halt. It illuminated the depths of the hole, revealing all.

This hole was not a natural formation. Someone built it, so it must lead somewhere.

A tunnel. But how would he enter it? His preemptive packing came in handy once again, as he withdrew a good length of rope. Ink Blot carefully tied one end to a sturdy tree that touched the ring of brambles, tested the knot's strength, and when he was satisfied he threw the other end down the hole. He descended into the depths.

The tunnel twisted and turned, but Ink Blot was careful to mark his way, etching arrows in the tunnel walls that pointed back the way he'd come.

Eventually, he spotted something. At the end of the tunnel was a soft blue glow. Cautiously, he advanced, peeking around the final corner.

The tunnel opened into a large cavern, filled with luminescent plants. From a crack in the ceiling, white moonlight streamed in. In the rough centre of the cavern was a small pool of water, fed by a tiny stream that seeped from a crack in the wall. The cavern continued elsewhere, the pointed stalactites and stalagmites like the grinning maw of some horrible creature that awaited in the darkness.

"Now this is interesting," Ink Blot said to himself. His words reverberated throughout the cavern. "I wonder if anyone's home?"

The atmosphere of the cave was... strange. Ink Blot approached the pool pensively, sitting down beside it. What should he do now? Go back to town, probably. It likely wouldn't be hard, just consult the compass he'd brought and travel north until reaching the forest's edge. From there he would be able to find his way back to town without issue. And if his compass did not work, there were always the tried and true methods, such as using the position of the sun. Luckily he'd brought a watch with him so he could check the time if he needed to.

But instead of doing the sensible thing and leaving right that moment, Ink Blot decided to ruminate. He peered at the mirror-smooth water, seeing how it seemed to have a glow of its own. He stepped closer, gazing at his own reflection, studying it.

He usually didn't look at himself very much. Not in Equestria, not back home. Maybe it was shame. Back home, he hadn't considered himself particularly good-looking, and during his time overseas in Kirma, he'd picked up a few scars from the many close-calls they'd had with the enemy. Maybe it was fear. It was undeniably his own face, everything logical said so, but it was a different face than what he knew. Maybe he thought he could hide from it if he pretended nothing was wrong.

Ink Blot reached up and touched his face, as if to confirm that it was indeed him. He felt the cold metal of the claw boot on his skin. He looked at the pool's smooth surface. It looked like him, but it wasn't him. Reflections were hollow, showing everything on the surface without any of the true depth of character. At first they were appealing, but the longer you looked the more likely it was that you'd find something about yourself that you didn't like.

He frowned. There was something... odd about the water, how unnaturally still it was. He couldn't see into its depths, and that puzzled him. He reached out, hoof mere inches from its surface. He wanted to touch it, but something told him that it wasn't a good idea.

Curiosity soon got the better of him.

He placed his hoof down, expecting to find the bottom of the pool, but it found nothing. His balance disturbed, he instinctively threw his other hoof forward to try and regain it, but it also found no purchase. He slipped ungracefully into the pool...

Ink Blot stepped back in alarm as a hoof burst from the pool, followed by another. When they found purchase, he was shocked by what emerged. Out of the pool stepped his reflection, coming face to face with himself.

Out of the pool he stepped, coming face to face with himself.

It was like looking in a mirror.

It was like looking in a mirror.

2 - Man in the Mirror

Quill silently made his way back to the school. He didn't need to hide himself any longer, as now he knew the truth. Changelings could live freely in Equestria now, free of reprisal, so long as they were peaceful. No strings attached whatsoever.

But he didn't feel comfortable with it yet. After so long watching from the shadows, he felt safe there. After so long living a double life, he didn't know if he wanted to live without it.

Quill, who'd operated under the codename "Kevin", had invented a new persona for himself when he'd come to Ponyville for the first time. He'd toyed around with different names like Purple Prose, Written Word, Happy Trails, Sundown, Hat Trick, but they'd all been too pompous for his tastes. At first, Quill had been temporary, until he could find something more inspired. Something that fit himself better.

He never had found anything better. After a while, he'd found that he actually liked the name a lot better than his old one. After all, names were incredibly important to Pony culture. It was generally accepted that you could change your name after significant life events, like when you'd changed so fundamentally that the old name no longer applied. Or conversely, after marriage.

Accordingly, much of Pony society was surprisingly receptive to change, but some of the parts that mattered most were still set in the old ways. For example, laws rarely were changed, amended, or even overturned. The monarchy, having been in place for millennia at this point, still had strong public support. And most tellingly of all? On the world stage, Equestria was hardly at the cutting edge of technological progress.

Whomever held that honour depended on who you were asking. Most agreed that the Griffons, for all their bluster and strife, were on the verge of discovering something groundbreaking. Others believed that the Zebras would soon overtake them, building massive cities and architectural marvels in their arid homeland.

But others still knew that there was an older, deeper civilisation that was far more advanced and knowledgeable than any of the others. Quill knew of them, though he'd never met one of them in the flesh. There were some Changelings who claimed they had, telling tales of their fantastical encounters.

Of course, that had very little bearing on the life of Quill, here and now. With Ocellus's help, he could learn to step into the light, to let the Equestrians see him for who he was, not what his species was.

When he reached the school grounds, he paused for a moment. Did he really need to keep up his current disguise? While his metamorphosis was by no means complete, the other students here had come to know him, and were used to seeing him join their lessons, though he did not consider himself one of them.

After some deliberation, he decided that it was for the best. He lowered his disguise in a pale green flash -- in the time since meeting Ink Blot, his once emerald green magical aura had begun to fade to a different, brighter colour. He wasn't sure if it should unnerve him or not.

He tried to ignore it for now, continuing towards the classroom where he'd meet with Ocellus for his tutoring.

When he entered, Starlight and Trixie were there. They'd been chatting about something, but went quiet when arrived.

"Ah, Quill, you're early." Starlight greeted him.

Trixie looked past him. "Is Ink Blot with you? I thought you were going to visit him."

"He'll come when he's ready," Quill dismissed. "He's still mourning."

"He can't mourn alone forever." Trixie shook her head disapprovingly.

"How long did Starlight mourn her lost friendship?" Quill smirked.

Starlight cringed. "Please don't joke about that. I made more than my share of mistakes because of that."

"Sorry." Quill said.

"It's too bad he's not here yet, though. The Grrrr-eat and Powerful Trixie has often offered a unique perspective in her counseling duties." Trixie boasted, though even so, it was an accurate boast.

Quill shrugged. "He'll only share when he's ready. He's only just begun sharing with me, and that's because he trusts me."

"Oh, then it's simple. He shares with you, you share with me, then I tell you what to tell him. Everypony wins." Trixie said dismissively.

"That would be a significant breach of his trust," Quill shook his head. He would never have dreamed of doing something like that. "He kept my secrets without hesitation, and now I'm going to do the same for him."

Trixie scrunched up her face, like that hadn't been what she'd meant. "I was just saying. It would be a lot easier and quicker than waiting for Celestia knows how long."

"And it would be a lot easier for me to simply disappear without a trace, never to return! But I'm not going to, because being easy doesn't mean it's the right choice!" he snapped. It was an empty threat, but it helped him get his point across.

Starlight sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Why did you have to start getting so passionate? And stubborn?"

Quill gave them a knowing smile. The other two looked at eachother like they were questioning every decision that had led them to this point. They meant well, but as Ink Blot had wisely said sometime before, Just because you mean well, doesn't mean you're right.

He'd only been with them for a month and a bit, but in that time he'd become more open in some ways, and more closed in others. It was a strange dualism. He'd become more confident, sure of himself in situations that weren't familiar to him. But he'd also learned how to step back and let others take the lead when he wasn't the bug for the job.

"Um, hello?" someone said from the door quietly.

"Hello there." Quill replied without hesitation. The clock had just reached 2 o'clock in the afternoon, the agreed-upon time that his tutoring would officially start.

"Ah, Ocellus, right on time as always." Starlight said happily.

Ocellus stepped into the room meekly. "Yeah. Are you two staying? I won't make you leave, it's just that I teach best when it's one on one."

"Actually, we were--" Trixie began

"Just about to leave for a late lunch." Starlight cut her off sharply.

Trixie was about to protest, but wisely held her tongue.

Ocellus either didn't notice, or didn't care. She exchanged pleasantries with the two unicorns as they left, waiting until she was certain that the two Changelings were alone in the classroom.

"Don't worry, I know why they were here. Asking about Ink Blot, right?" she smiled.

"Yeah. He's been distant to them, and they're getting worried. That's what I think, anyway." Quill replied.

"Ah, that explains a few things, then."

Quill frowned skeptically. "What's that, then?"

"Well, he said he's not from around here, right? He doesn't know anyone, and he left behind all his old friends. It's hard to make new friends when you don't know where to start." Ocellus explained. Even if she didn't have the whole picture, she was right. It was a universal problem that everyone needed to overcome in some way.

"But he's made a few friends, me included. At least I think he considers us friends." said Quill.

"True. But he's also going through a lot of self-discovery, isn't he? He doesn't know how he fits into the world, doesn't know what he wants to do." Ocellus added.

"I think it's more along the lines of not knowing what he can do."

"Sometimes those two are the same thing," Ocellus said wisely. "But you're here for Friendship lessons, not just Friendship advice. Have you been hungry at all?"

Quill shook his head. "No. I know it's like you said that the metamorphosis has already started, but I'm still reluctant to let it happen. I can't explain it."

"Either way, your magical aura is different now. And your wings are glittery. Soon enough the scars will fade and you'll take on your true shine. It'll happen when you're ready." Ocellus smiled.

Quill did not immediately respond. He was lost in introspection, thinking about her words. What exactly was he worried about? He changed how he looked every day, could change it at any time he wanted. It was as easy as putting on a hat. It was second nature to take the appearance of someone else.

So why did this change scare him the most of all?

Ink Blot blinked. Was he dreaming? Or hallucinating, for that matter? He didn't trust what his eyes were telling him had appeared. It had to be a mistake. Because the alternative, that his reflection had stepped out of the strange underground pool and was now staring at his face in confusion, was too much for him right now.

"Who are you?" asked Ink Blot.

"Who am I?" Ink Blot asked back. It was like an echo, bouncing off of the walls of the cavern, back to him. But it was real, it was actually someone else right there in front of him.

He frowned. Who was he indeed? The other Ink Blot frowned as well, lost in thought. Both Blots had the same cutie mark, the same claw boots, the same horn, the same scrapes along their underside from when they'd slid across the ground while fleeing from the Timberwolves.

They were the same.

"You're me." Ink Blot said.

The other Ink Blot looked up, understanding dawning on his face. "I'm you." he said.

"Well isn't this a little awkward." Ink Blot said with a wry smile.

"Yes, quite awkward," the other Blot agreed. "Makes you wonder which one came first."

"Something tells me that might be a chicken and egg situation."

Both Blots's stomachs growled in unison. Ink Blot had skipped breakfast, as was now his habit, but it must have been getting close to lunch time. They were hungry.

"I could go for a nice sandwich right now." Ink Blot said.

"That's not actually a bad idea. What kind are you thinking of?" he agreed with himself.

Ink Blot smiled again. "Well you should know about as well as I do."

"I've always wanted to try that sandwich where it's two slices of bread-"

"-with the potato chips in between?" he interrupted himself.

"How'd you know?" Ink Blot smiled.

"Call it... intuition."

At the same time, the Blots tapped the sides of their heads thoughtfully, like it was some kind of tongue-in-cheek joke between them.

Though, now that there were two of them, there was... going to be more than a little confusion. They both had the same name, the same face. How could they tell eachother apart?

"Quite the conundrum." Ink Blot commented.

"Yep." the other Blot sighed.

"We're clones of eachother. Doppelgängers."

The other Blot made a face. "That implies one of us is evil."

"Well, are you?" Ink Blot asked.

"Well, am I?" The other Blot retorted.

"There has to be some kind of difference. No matter how small."

The two of them thought for a moment, until the original realised something. It was like a switch turned on in his mind.

"It's simple. Which of us emerged from the pool, and which of us stepped away from it?" he asked his clone.

"That's easy. I stepped out of it, didn't I?" the clone said thoughtfully.

"Then that, of course, would make me the original Ink Blot. Though, I imagine that from your perspective, you stepped through the pool from your side into my side." the original Ink Blot explained out.

"Wouldn't that mean that the, quote on quote, "original" is an entirely arbitrary designation? From our own perspectives, we'd see ourselves as the original, no matter what the order of events was."

"You could very well be correct in that, I won't lie," the original Ink Blot frowned. "But for the purposes of identification we need to have a difference, no matter how arbitrary. Thusly, I will christen you "Secundus"."

"I suppose that makes you "Primus", then?" Secundus scoffed.

Ink Blot shrugged. "Maybe it does, but you know me better than anyone else. Primus is too lofty, too..."

"Arrogant?" Secundus supplied.

"Yeah, arrogant," Ink Blot agreed. "For the purposes of talking to other people, we'll both still be Ink Blot, at least in public. In private we can we whoever we want to be."

Secundus nodded in acceptance, though he clearly had a few reservations. The original smiled and turned away, starting to make his way to the exit.

Sometimes it was just better to leave an argument for another day, to accept terms and place your hopes on renegotiation in the future.

Of course, if the renegotiation failed...

"You know, clone subplots never turn out very well."

Ink Blot stopped and looked back at Secundus. "Well this isn't a subplot. This is reality. I'm real, you're real, and now that you're here, we need to figure out how we're going to live our lives going forward."

He was right. Both of them knew that. Where there had once been one, there were now two. Such a small change, almost unnoticeable on the grand scale.

But even the smallest change could make all the difference.

Traversing the forest was a relatively easy task. The sun was still out, and the two Blots both had compasses. They forged their way north, past bush and shrub, carefully avoiding the patches of glowing blue flowers, and listening for the approach of the Timberwolves. Neither of them wanted to risk another confrontation.

At the very edge of the forest, though, Ink Blot soon realised that a problem would inevitably emerge.

"How are people going to react when they see two of us?" Ink Blot wondered aloud.

"Probably not very well. Think they'd buy the excuse that we were twins?" Secundus replied.

Ink Blot shook his head. "We'd have different cutie marks. Could use the Changeling excuse, that's a touch more plausible."

"Possibly," Secundus said. "Would it really be worth it, though? We could just go at different times, take different routes, and meet back up at the castle. Sound good?"

"Alright. I'll go west side, you'll go east side. Ten minutes between." Ink Blot suggested.

Secundus nodded in agreement. Ink Blot left first, as his path would take him through the busiest part of town. As he aproached, he did his best to act like he was coming back from his usual period of meditation.

The key to moving through a crowd undetected is to mimic their overall mood and atmosphere. If they're keeping to themselves, keep to yourself. If they're smiling and celebrating, smile as well. The important part was to avoid standing out in any meaningful way: to be average.

Ink Blot knew this well, as he'd been on the opposite side of the coin. When searching for someone who intends to cause trouble, their body movements, their attitude, how they react to developing situations, would indicate their guilt. Similarly, if you knew what to look for, you could discover who was trying to hide something.

He'd been there more times than he really knew. Watching a crowd as him and his comrades delivered relief supplies. Food, water, medicine, all being given to the very people that hated the invading soldiers. Maybe it was an earnest attempt to make up for past mistakes, maybe it was an underhanded attempt to foster goodwill for further bloodshed. Ink Blot didn't know. Probably the latter, knowing what kind of people really gave the orders.

Ponies of all shapes and sizes thronged the streets. As Autumn had begun, they were preparing for the Running of the Leaves, which if Ink Blot remembered correctly were a series of hoofraces through the nearby forests. The strength of the runner's hoofbeats would cause the leaves to fall from the trees, with only bare limbs and pine needles remaining in the canopies.

An interesting tradition, considering that the leaves would fall with or without pony intervention.

Ink Blot sidled carefully through town, taking in the sights and sounds. In addition to the hoofraces, Nightmare Night was on the way. Costumes were being sewn, decorations were being hung -- and of course, there was the candy.

He wasn't sure if he'd be interested in partaking. Maybe if someone invited him, he'd join them, but the Running of the Leaves seemed redundant, and Nightmare Night felt like an uninspired revision of a holiday they'd had back home. But... he had to admit, it was nice seeing all the happy faces around. It was a lot nicer than the faces he'd seen back home, before he'd gone AWOL.

Every time he and his platoon were involved with humanitarian drops, he'd seen the faces. By the gods, the faces. Sadness, for the ones they'd lost. Regret, for not having prepared. Fear, for their very survival. Even with the Keleseth Guard assisting with peacekeeping and security efforts, crime had run rampant. Armed gangs terrorised the streets, and clashed with law enforcement in bloody skirmishes. At the same time, disease had spread nearly unopposed, and large portions of Dormus proper were barricaded off, with many people still inside.

That was what had prompted their leadership to begin the crackdown, to enforce martial law. They had no other option. Or at least that was what their leadership had thought. Even with all the chaos, a sort of status quo had emerged by then. The gangs, ironically enough, began policing their own parts of the city, and often co-operated with the military to distribute supplies as they deemed necessary. A faction had emerged within the civilian population that wanted to take charge of things, to coordinate efforts, to rebuild what they could, and to eventually bring order to the other nearby cities.

But Colonel Sullivan, commanding officer of the Keleseth Guard, was a man with a chest full of medals who always hungered for more glory. He wanted the credit for bringing order to the city, and credit for him alone. He'd chased glory in Kirma by throwing his own men away, and he was going to do it again in Dormus. That's when Knight had the idea to leave, and at the same time cripple Sullivan's ability to command. Which, funnily enough, indirectly resulted in their deaths, shortly before Ink Blot found himself in Equestria.

Funny, that.

Soon enough, Ink Blot found himself at the castle, and let himself in. The halls were quiet, as Starlight was still at the school for an hour or so longer. While she wasn't quite as staunchly dedicated as she had been prior, she still put in a surprising amount of hours to make sure her job was done correctly. If only he'd had a commanding officer as dedicated as she was to that bloody school.

He waited tensely by the door, looking out towards the town. Would anyone notice? Would there be suspicions? Possibly. They'd taken as many precautions as they reasonably could given the circumstances, under a strict time frame. All they had to do now was wait.

It was not long before he breathed a sigh of relief. There was Secundus, making his way towards the castle. Alone, just as they'd planned.

"All's well." Secundus said as he let himself in.

"No trouble?" Ink Blot asked.

"None at all. Barely even saw a soul." his clone replied.

Ink Blot nodded in satisfaction. "Then let's eat."

The two of them made their way into the kitchen, brainstorming potential meals. Cooking for two was harder than they'd realised, as when there's been only one of them they'd been satisfied with eating whatever filled their bellies. It was... confusing them, in a way. Both would have settled for a simple snack of whatever leftovers were in the fridge, but the other's presence put them into the mindset that they were feeding a visitor.

Naturally they acknowledged this, with wry comments that resembled inside jokes between old friends.

They eventually settled on making fried egg sandwiches. They'd have preferred to fry up some ham or bacon, but pony society was still culturally vegetarian. Animal products were very much okay, but it made most ponies uncomfortable to partake in the flesh of creatures that so closely resembled themselves in both body and mind. Privately, they acknowledged that Griffon culture might not have the same qualms.

"What now?" Secundus asked Ink Blot after they had finished eating.

"I don't know." he admitted.

"I meant what we're going to now, now that there's two of us?" Secundus clarified.

"I don't know," Ink Blot said again. "Do you?"

Secundus snorted. "Of course not. We're the same person, remember? All the movies and stories say that trying to have both of us live the same life at the same time is moronic."

"True. We wouldn't be able to properly communicate every minute detail of every day, leading to discrepancies."

"And assuming that we were cloned both in body and mind, there would come a point where our personalities diverged due to different experiences."

"Exactly," Secundus smiled. "Even if we had somehow managed to be perfectly the same up until a pivotal moment, there would be a fundamental difference."

"That being?" Ink Blot asked, but he knew the answer before his double even said it.

"I'm standing here, and you're standing there. Even if we looked at the same object, like the salt shaker on the kitchen counter over there, our perspectives are different. I see once side, and you see the other. We see the same object, but never quite the whole object." Secundus explained.

"And even if our views overlapped somewhat, there would be some of the object we couldn't both see, because of our differing perspectives." Ink Blot finished.

The two of them nodded sagely. They had to admit, the other one did make a lot of sense. It was oddly introspective.

"So I ask you again. What happens now?" Secundus asked yet again, but this time it was a lot more thoughtful than the first two times.

"Whatever we want, I suppose. The fact that we're having this conversation means that we're okay with eachother's existence, none of that "there can be only one!" business." Ink Blot replied with a chuckle.

Secundus nodded in agreement. "Then the question is not "What happens now?", but rather "What do I want to happen now?"."

"And do you have an answer?" Ink Blot asked himself.

Secundus was quiet for a long while. His eyes darted back and forth, following the cracks and divots in the table as he thought. Those scars in the table's surface told stories to him, of what the table had experienced in its lifetime. It was a nice table, but something told him that it hadn't always been in this castle. It was wooden, stained and varnished to a lovely walnut brown. But in some places the varnish had been scraped or worn away, revealing the bare wood beneath. In one place, there were scorch marks, likely from a a time when the table had been burned by a candle left unattended for far too long.

Oh yes, this table had stories to tell. If Secundus had to guess, it had been bought second hand from a family that had used it throughout two or three generations. Such a table was a silent workhorse that held many dinners, many parties, much tragedy and sadness yes, but many miracles and happiness as well.

"I'd like to spend some more time reading," Secundus finally answered. "History. Equestrian history of all stripes. Ancient and new, personal and national, and as many sources as I can find."

Ink Blot smiled fondly. "History always was our favourite subject in school."

"Mostly because we could talk a lot and coast along on our background knowledge." Secundus smiled, the memories they shared coming back to them.

"It's like dad used to say..." Ink Blot began.

The two of them looked at eachother and said in unison, "Knowing is half the battle!"

The doubles took their leave, with Ink Blot making his way to the School of Friendship, and Secundus quickly shutting himself into the library. Quill had long since cleaned up the... uh... Changeling nesting goo, as he called it, so the library was back to its usual appearance.

Approaching the bookshelves, Secundus browsed them thoughtfully. Last time, he'd gone in with a specific goal in mind, and took out books based on how relevant they were likely to be to his goal. If a book didn't seem to have anything useful, or only reiterated information he'd already gleaned without any additions, he'd set it aside. Today, he was going to read these books for reading's sake.

And if he fell down a strange rabbit hole? If he found a mystery that he needed to solve?

So be it.

It was interesting having access to the collected knowledge of an unfamiliar world. He knew how his own had developed, at least the broad strokes, but Equestria had developed in surprising ways. As expected of a world that relied on magic for a lot of daily life, the surface level understanding of Equestria would say that it wasn't nearly as developed as the human world.

But it was, in ways he didn't expect. For example, though a large subset of the population had access to magic, the rest had to make-do with more mundane solutions. Teleportation was impossible for all but the most skilled and dedicated of spell-casters. Thusly, being able to move from one place to another had developed along very familiar lines. At first, ponies would walk or gallop everywhere. Then, they developed the wheel to facilitate the movement of larger and heavier loads across longer distances, faster than it was possible without it. As carts and wheeled conveyance became common, it was necessary to build infrastructure to cater to such conveyance. Roads became longer, wider, and better built against wear and tear. As the roads grew, so did Equestria.

Where their path had differed, however, was the development of powered vehicles. The internal combustion engine existed, and the railway was well developed, but there was either no need or no interest in adapting road vehicles to self-propellance. It wasn't impossible to build a sufficiently sized engine that could power a single vehicle, as Gyro had proven with her most recent flying devices, just not necessary.

It was like their use of electricity. Motors could convert movement to electricity, and electricity to movement, but electricity itself was used very little outside of communities that had very few unicorn residents, such as Appaloosa. Conversely, communities that had mostly unicorns used magical conduits that could wirelessly transmit power without losing any of it, though that particular subject was still treated like it was magic in and of itself.

But Secundus soon figured out why that was the case. Particle theory was nearly non-existent here, and most science relied on hypothetical mathematic equations to determine results. It wasn't nearly as interesting as he'd hoped, but when the field of magic had spells that could literally convert matter into a completely different and unrelated element, it made a little sense as to why they had a different understanding of how the world was put together. Thank the gods they understood germ theory, as opposed to something silly like all sickness being caused by evil spirits that could be cured by subscribing to some herbalist's newsletter and selling water that had a leaf in it at some point.

Though he had to remember that it was a world of magic, and that in theory anything that could be imagined could be done with enough power put into it.

Eventually, he turned his attention to myths and legends of old. At first he read about the Elements of Harmony, which were magical artifacts that represented elements of Friendship. By bringing the five together, a magic of great power could be awakened. This power had been wielded by the Alicorn princesses, and later passed onto Twilight and her friends when Nightmare Moon was defeated. The physical artifacts were later destroyed, though it was discovered that the artifacts themselves were unneeded to use the power that Friendship could unlock.

It seemed that this power was what had kept Equestria safe and secure, despite numerous attempts to subvert it. Only... some of those attempts had come shockingly close to success. If at any point Twilight or her friends had faltered or given up, then Equestria would have fallen. They had a laughably weak military, and the most advanced non-magical weapons they had were heavy cannons that saw near-exclusive use in naval engagements.

What would happen if Equestria encountered a threat that could not be defeated by Friendship alone? Secundus looked to the major evils that had beset Equestria in recent memory. Chrysalis, despite being defeated multiple times, continued to be a nuisance well into the end of the Alicorn Sisters's reign. Tirek had the ability to absorb the magic of others, and only a random shot in the dark had stopped him the first time. And Cozy Glow, the pegasus filly who'd sought to control the magic of Friendship, had successfully cut off magic in Equestria so that she could be the only one with any power at all. Later, all three had used to power of an ancient artifact called "The Bell of Grogar" to temporarily hold dominion over Equestria.

But somehow, the magic of Friendship had triumphed over them in the end.

Then of course there was Sombra, who had once ruled the Crystal Empire in the north. He was... different. He had been defeated like the others, yes, but if he'd been unopposed he would have brought war to Equestria. Such was the account of Princess Twilight Sparkle, who'd traveled into alternate timelines due to Starlight's interference. Now from the description of what he'd done before the Crystal Empire was cast into a time vortex, he had immense power yet represented a conventional threat. Secundus knew how to deal with conventional threats.

Only through great effort and sacrifice had the other timeline managed to bring his advance to a stalemate. If Equestria had been prepared against such a threat, when the war began they'd have been able to defeat him with or without the magic of Friendship. That, at least, gave them options in how to deal with the enemy.

A similar event had occurred with the so-called Storm King. He'd struck without warning, overcoming Canterlot and the Alicorn princesses in a matter of minutes. His forces occupied Canterlot, Ponyville, and slowly extended his control across the heartland, while his second-in-command pursued the fleeing Princess Twilight and her friends. He would have succeeded in his bid to take the power of the Alicorns for his own, if it were not for the intervention of Twilight's friends and a crack team of infiltrators, as well as the defection of his second-in-command.

Secundus couldn't help but wonder how well these "villains" would have fared against lead and gunpowder.

Eventually, as night began in earnest, he decided to figure out his sleeping arrangements. It was while doing this he stumbled upon an old, scorched book. The cover was illegible due to the burns, but its contents had remained intact. The book intrigued him, and so he opened it.

The book was a study done on something called "The Mirror Pool".

For some reason, it filled him with dread.

With a cautious look around, Secundus silently slipped the book into his saddlebags, and left the library.

3 - Weather Bird

The skies were clouded today. Forecast called for rain later in the evening, with the potential for a thunderstorm. Radiant Star puttered along at his usual pace, flying low enough that if he'd reached for it, he could scrape the roofs below.

Not that he would. The bakery's insurance didn't cover property damage, only medical damage. Besides, his workday was almost over. He had only one delivery left for him to finish up.

Working at the bakery? It was alright. He could afford to live in Ponyville, which was by no means expensive. The owners were nice, and so were his two fellow employees. There was Cereal, who baked a lot, and Penny, who watched the store most days. It just wasn't super fulfilling. He knew the skies above Ponyville well enough that he could probably join the mail service, but the head mailmare who worked there, Derpy, was efficient in ways he couldn't even hope to compete with.

Coincidentally, that's where his delivery was going to. Apparently the post office was moving a lot of things today, and wanted a large batch of muffins at the worksite for when the team left for the night.

Ray glided to the ground on silent wings, carrying well over 60 muffins in his delivery bag; Derpy had a notoriously large appetite for muffins. Rumour had it that she even kept a basket of them under the counter at the office.

At the entrance of the worksite, a unicorn wearing a helmet and a reflective vest greeted him. "Hey there, Ray, lovely flying as always." she smiled.

"Yeah, yeah, that's me alright." Ray mumbled. He set down his bag and did his best to take the muffins out without squishing them any further. He didn't even know who this mare was.

"Looks like all of them! Thanks Ray, sorry about the order being so sudden." the mare said sheepishly.

"Oh no, it's no trouble. Just doing my job." Ray tried to fake a smile, but it came out looking pained.

The mare fished in her pocket for something, bringing out a few bits. "Here, because you do your job so well. It's not much, but I won't take no for an answer." she smiled as she offered it to Ray.

"I, uh, actually get paid alright. Thanks." Ray replied. He had a feeling that refusing would have incensed her even more. Right now, he just wanted to get this over with so he could go home.

Not that he had much to do at home, but he needed something to look forward to.

Ray flew away without a word, returning to the bakery to deposit his bread bags and clock out for the day. He said bye to Cereal and Penny, and started the walk home.

He lived in a small rental cottage just outside the town limits, though it was still technically part of Ponyville because of how the property was shaped. It had all the essentials, but it wasn't quite the same as the fancy cloud condo he grew up in.

His parents had separated when he was young, his dad living in Cloudsdale and his mum in Ponyville. And then when he was old enough to choose, he spent most of his time with his dad. The two of them were just on the same frequency, while his mum had... let's say she had some "ideas" about how he was going to live his life. For a while it had been charming, but then it just became annoying.

Like how she always told him that "if you'd just tried harder, you could join the Wonderbolts". As he'd grown older, he'd come to understand that was his mother's lingering resentment over not being able to join the Wonderbolts herself. She denied it, but it was plain to see for those who knew her well.

Ray didn't even like the Wonderbolts very much; as far as he was concerned they were all about speed and showboating.

That sentiment had put him at odds with some of his peers on many occasions. Particularly that blue one with the rainbow streak. Now she'd actually managed to join, after a lot of trials and tribulations, which was good for her he supposed. She was living his mother's dream.

As he was making his way downtown, he suddenly perked up. Was that who he thought it was? He caught a glimpse of purple mane, and a parchment brown coat.

It was Ink Blot, and that fellow who sat in the bakery and never ate anything. For some reason the fellow's name was escaping him.

"Hey, Ink Blot!" Ray called out.

Ink Blot turned and frowned, searching for who'd said his name. When he spotted Ray, he nudged Quill and went to greet him.

"Hey dude, how've you been?" Ray asked as he got close.

"Been, uh, alright." Ink Blot responded awkwardly. He hadn't been expecting to see Ray, and to be completely honest had forgotten to talk to him recently. There were a few other things on his mind these days.

"And you're the writer who likes to sit in the bakery, right?" Ray asked Quill, who was currently in his standard disguise. "Good to see that you've got somepony to talk to, now. Penny kept getting all riled up about how alone you seemed, without any friends or anything like that."

"Well, it turns out Ink and I have... a lot more in common than I, uh, realised." Quill replied meekly. He was nervous, talking to someone whose identity he'd temporarily taken on a few times before.

Ink Blot nodded, but then frowned as he realised something. "So if you're always seeing eachother in the same place, how come the two of you never talked at all?"

"We did, he just never seemed like he really wanted to talk about much." Ray shrugged.

"I, well, you see... I wasn't really... feelin' it, you know?" Quill said, grasping for the right words to use.

"Then I suppose the two of you could make a fresh start, huh?" Ink Blot asked with a short, pointed glance at Quill.

"Come to think of it, I wouldn't really mind having somepony else to chat to." Ray smiled.

Quill said nothing at first. He jumped a little when Ink Blot elbowed him, blurting out, "Of course!"

The three of them sort of looked at eachother for a moment, not sure what to do next.

"Do you want to come over, or something?" Ray suggested with a shrug.

"Uh, sure." Ink Blot nodded.

Quill, despite wanting to do literally anything else right now, agreed as well.

The three of them made some pointless small-talk as they made their way to Ray's place. And by the three of them, that meant Ray and Ink Blot; Quill was half excited to be thrust into a new social situation, but also half regretting every decision that had led up to that moment.

Ray's place was quaint by Ink Blot's standards, comparable to Fluttershy's cottage in size. However, it was obvious that this was a much newer building in comparison. Crisp, freshly white-washed, double layered wooden walls would keep the cold out and the heat in. The gaps between the roughly hewn lumber was filled with daub, and presumably the space between the wall layers was stuffed with some form of insulation. A single, steel pole stretched up into the sky, with antennas pointing out in various directions.

"Nice place." Ink Blot commented.

"It's a little small compared to what I'm used to, but it's got an alright rental rate. And it's on the wired electrical grid, unlike most of Ponyville. Pole's a lightning rod, too." Ray pointed out.

"So most of Ponyville's on the magic grid, then?" Ink Blot asked.

"Oh yeah, they don't draw much so they're on an extension from Canterlot. Magic grid technically doesn't need physical connectors, but the further it goes without some sort of conduit the more power is lost. Most cities on the magic grid just do their own generators, but Ponyville's a special case."

"You sure know a lot about the power grid." Quill commented.

"Took a class on it, when I was in Cloudsdale few years back. Electricity's not that far removed from weather management, but it's not anywhere near as popular. Still, you can make a lot of money if you land a job in the frontier towns." Ray mused.

Ink Blot nodded. "So why live in Ponyville, then?"

Ray didn't have a good answer. It wasn't entirely by choice, but there wasn't really anything keeping him here. If he wanted, he could just up and leave at any time.

So instead of answering, he opened his door and gestured for the two to come inside.

"It's not much. For now, I call it home." Ray smiled.

"Rustic. Reminds me of the Inner Colonial style." Ink Blot said.

"Inner Colonial?" Quill asked.

"Rough planks for the walls, whitewashed exterior to preserve the wood, the daub filling the gaps. More efficient on space and wood than a typical log cabin, but needed more heating in the winters. Used pretty often in fast growing frontier towns." Ink Blot explained.

Ray turned on the lightswitch, and overhead the old bulbs faded to life. "Sitting room is on the left, want a drink? Or a snack?" he asked his guests.

"Could use a cold drink. Surprise me." Ink Blot said.

Quill politely declined. As an unreformed Changeling, he couldn't properly digest most pony foods.

Returning quickly from the kitchen, Ray brought two bottles. One had a familiar label, that of Sunrise Sarsaparilla, while the other had a logo with a sort of stylised citrus fruit. The mystery drink was coloured a bright orange, and presumably flavoured with oranges.

"You want the Citran Burst, or the sarsaparilla?" Ray asked.

"I'll take the orange drink." Ink Blot said. He'd always liked trying a new kind of pop.

Quill, even though he knew he shouldn't have it, looked at the sarsaparilla longingly. What would the harm be? He'd had it before without any side effects, so why couldn't he have some more now? "On second thought, I, uh, would like a sarsaparilla." Quill stammered.

Ray shrugged and passed his bottle to Quill, and quickly returned with a replacement.

"So, last time we talked it was about your lost memory. You got it back, right?" Ray asked as he sipped his drink.

Ink Blot nodded. "Got it back, and now I've spent the past month trying to figure out what to do with myself."

"You and me both, bud," Ray snorted. "I'm in a bit of a rut at work, just doing the same-old same-old. Bread delivery pays for the house, but it's not very fulfilling. You find a job yet?"

"Uh, not really, no," Ink Blot admitted.

"Well, if you look hard enough you can find work doing anything. It's just a question of how low you're willing to stoop. You still rooming with that Starlight filly?" Ray asked.

"Yeah. I honestly feel kinda bad about it, because she's not charging me anything for the room. Really, my biggest fear is that someday soon I'm gonna wear out my welcome and then there's going to be an awkward conversation." Ink Blot sighed.

Ray nodded in understanding. "I was in a spot like that for a bit. My folks were split when I was a colt, and until I had my hooves on the ground I had to bounce between them a lot."

"I imagine it was tough for you." Ink Blot commented as he sipped the orange drink. It didn't taste that strongly of any one citrus, so he suspected it was probably some kind of multi-blend.

"Difficult, but it was the way it was. Anyway, Quill, was it?" Ray asked.

"Yeah." Quill nodded.

"You write?"

"Yeah."

"You don't talk much?"

Quill shrugged. "When I have something to say, I'll say it."

"I can respect that." Ray nodded thoughtfully.

"What makes you say you're in a rut? Something wrong with the bakery?" Ink Blot asked curiously.

"No," Ray said uncertainly. "Well, yes, actually. It's none of the others, it's actually just me. I deliver baked goods, right? All day I fly back and forth, and everypony thanks me, but it just doesn't feel like I'm doing much, you know? All I'm doing is flying around, which is what I'd probably do anyway..." He trailed off with a shrug.

"Well, what would you rather do?" Ink Blot questioned.

Ray chuckled sadly. "That's exactly it. I don't know what I want to do, just that it isn't delivery work. Maybe something more intellectual?"

"You could try writing. I could look around and try to get you a publishing deal, and if your write something that gets popular the royalties can be rather lucrative." Quill suggested.

"What would I write? Add another Daring Do ripoff to the bargain bin? Speculative fiction? Or, worst of all, fanfiction?" Ray smiled.

Quill smiled back slyly. "A lot of great writers started off with fanfiction. Snd who says you have to be original about what you write? All you'd have to do is take and update."

"You could always write romance for lonely singles." Ink Blot added.

"Oh Celestia, don't tell him that!" Quill suddenly burst out.

Ray and Ink Blot laughed. Quill, who'd been steadily drinking his sarsaparilla, let out a large burp, which only made them laugh more.

When they calmed down, Ray smiled sadly. "Now that would be something, but I'm not sure it'd be for me. What did you do before you wound up here, Inks?"

"I was a soldier." Ink Blot said quietly. He suddenly became silent, staring at the floor. Quill looked at him concernedly, then quickly shook his head at Ray. Only despair and pain he'd find with this line of inquiry.

But Ray didn't notice. "Ah, now that's something I could do. Join the Guard, become a soldier. It'd be like The Ring of Time, traveling the world, battling evil, restoring lost kingdoms-"

"Becoming a soldier was the worst fucking mistake of my life!" Ink Blot snapped.

The abrupt thundering of his voice silenced them. Quill shut his eyes and sighed; this was what he'd been afraid of. Ray frowned confusedly as his ears folded back fearfully. He looked like a scared puppy.

"Wh-what?" Ray stuttered.

Ink Blot came to his hooves abruptly and stared bloody murder into Ray's eyes. "I spent four years, four goddamned years as a soldier, Ray! You won't find glory, you won't find honour, you won't find adventure, and you definitely won't find any fucking heroes! The moment you put your name on that paper, your life doesn't belong to you anymore, and they can do whatever the fuck they like with you!"

Ray tried to respond, but nothing came out.

"Do you know how they treat you when you're a soldier, Ray? Do you know what the brass thinks of you? You're just a number on a page to them, just a resource to be used. They don't care about you. And they're going to get as much goddamned use out of you that they can, to achieve whatever stupid fucking goals they have. Do you know what I did for four years, Ray? Do you know what I did? I've killed people, Ray. People who didn't do anything wrong. People who were just doing their duty, just like me. People who were just trying to protect their homes, their families."

Ink Blot shut his eyes, his anger fading. He shook his head, as if chastising himself for losing control like that. A hoof on his shoulder startled him, but it was only Quill, offering comfort. "Come on, Ink Blot," Quill reassured him. "Try and think of better things. Happier things."

"I'm sorry, Ray. You don't deserve being jacked up like that." Ink Blot sighed. He rubbed his face like he was trying to scrub out a stain. Tensing his muscles infrequently, he sat down again.

"No, no, it's my fault. I shouldn't have brought it up-" Ray tried to apologise, but Ink Blot cut him off.

"You wouldn't have known not to, unless you were told. I didn't tell you," Ink Blot shook his head sadly. "I haven't told anyone who didn't already have a reason to know."

"How many? How many others know?" Ray asked.

"Beyond that I was a soldier? Just Quill, and now you. Neither of you have the whole story, and no one will ever have the whole story. There's just too much of it, too much pain and suffering that I've witnessed -- that I've caused. I don't want to cause any more, you hear? Never."

Ray swallowed nervously, then quietly said "I understand."

"It's a heavy weight to carry alone, but I'm gonna damn well try." Ink Blot muttered.

"You don't have to carry it alone, you know?" Quill replied.

"I will carry it until there is someone who can prove that they're capable of handling it. Not before. And not to some cut-rate shrink who's just listening to me for a quick buck, and doesn't have any meaningful advice or insight, or even a bit of goddamned sympathy." Ink Blot said, his lips contorting into a snarl as he mentioned what was presumably his old psyche doctor.

The three of them continued to talk long into the evening, but even so, the weight of the earlier conversation weighed over them. Eventually, Quill and Ink Blot said their goodbyes, and left.

*Clang!*

The sound of metal on metal rang out into the night.

*Clang!*

For a moment, the sound ceased. A red-feathered griffon wiped the sweat from her brow as she plunged a metal plate into a quenching tub. The oil sizzled and steamed, and the steel hardened. She withdrew the plate, and set it down upon her workbench to inspect it. Another quenching, and it would be ready.

What caused this griffon to work so late into the night? What delicate work did she have in mind?

Gyro inspected the stack of plates she'd already finished. These plates would soon be used in the construction of a brigandine cuirass. It was a special project, one that was being carried out in secret, as requested by a shadowy figure. The figure had only identified herself as Umbra, and offered a considerable sum for the construction of this armour.

Even so, Gyro had not been swayed by the sizable sack of bits, but by her own curiosity. Say she was contracted to make more? From what she'd seen, the armour worn by the Canterlot Guard was old fashioned, more ceremonial than functional. What smith in their right mind had decided to make armour out of that stupid gold alloy? Gold was too soft to stand up to much punishment, even if bolstered by enchantments.

At least those Crystal Fusiliers -- or whatever they called themselves up north -- had some function to their style. Their gear was an alloy of silver and nickel, which while not quite the same temper as proper steel, it held enchantments just the same as the gold stuff.

For a moment she looked longingly towards her flying machine, wishing dearly that she could be working on the next iteration of the complex device, but she shook it off and continued her work. She heated the plate, hammered it to shape, and quenched it once more. A plume of flame rose up from her vat of oil, but Gyro ignored it. With her many years of smithing under her belt, she was quite comfortable around fire and other hot things.

Unless "other hot things" meant attractive folks. She got real nervous around them, unless she was talking about a project. Recently, she'd noticed that griff who was studying at the friendship school. What was his name again? Gallus, she said to herself. He was unfamiliar to her, even though he'd supposedly been living in Griffonstone all his life before coming here.

Boy, was that place a dump. If she hadn't known that it was the old capital, she'd have sworn by her tailfeathers that it was some backwater that'd sprung up in the ruins of something much grander.

Come to think of it, that's exacty what it was. Funny that.

How many weapons had she made for enterprising griffs who'd dreamt that they would be the one to rebuild their once-proud nation's glory? That they'd reclaim the Idol of Boreas, or the Helm of Grogar, or a myriad of other artifacts that had appeared throughout griffon history? How many had returned emptyclawed?

How many hadn't returned?

And there she'd come across the trouble with her homeland. They were obsessed with past glory, of old stories, of artifacts lost long before any of them were even born. Once they'd been a power to rival Equestria. But now? Now they were fools, scrabbling in the dirt for something that someone else had made that they could claim for themselves. Even as one of the most skilled smiths they'd seen in decades, if not centuries, too many griffs only saw her work as a means to an end.

When she'd chosen to take up the family business and become a smith, Gyro hadn't been doing it for the money. Not that smithing in Griffonstone wasn't profitable, but what she cared about was creating things. Taking a mostly useless hunk of metal, and turning it into a work of art. To make a functioning weapon from steel took real effort, commitment, and skill. To make it not only functional, but beautiful? You needed a master's touch.

And Gyro, with all of her years, would be considered by some to be a master. Except... all that meant was that more griffs would come to her in search of the perfect weapon. They wanted her to forge a weapon that would forge a nation. She knew that it wasn't that simple, but that dream had encapsulated so many young griffs that even if she'd refused to make their weapons, there would inevitably be someone else foolish enough to make them. And who knew what quality of junk that fool would put out? For a time, it had been better for her to make good weapons that would actually give a skilled wielder a chance at success.

But as time went on, her cynicism grew. None of them had succeeded, so why would the next idealist who came along be the one to actually do it?

And so, she turned her focus away from weapons and onto her longtime personal project: The flying machine.

As so many had pointed out before, it was a strange obsession. "Why build a machine to fly if she could do that perfectly fine herself?"

To that, she answered with another question. "Why use a cart to carry things if you can can do that perfectly fine yourself?"

Thankfully, that would shut some of them up. Simply understanding the utility of such a device from the perspective of an existing device was more than enough for griffs who had a brain inside their heads. Those smart ones would walk away, thinking of the possibilities. The luddites, though, they would harass her for it. Whatever the excuses they told themselves, their brains had all been knocked onto the ground and stepped on many years ago.

And eventually, when she'd grown tired of them all, Gyro had left Griffonstone using her first ever working prototype. It flew successfully across the sea to Equestria, where it promptly crashed. So she'd built another one from the remains. That one made it to Ponyville, where it had crashed into an old blacksmith's shop. And that's where she'd been ever since.

Gyro plunged a piece of steel plate stock into the forge. A few pumps on the bellows and it would heat to a bright red, the perfect temperature for her to shape it. Hotter metal worked easier, but if it got too hot then it'd lose strength. Such was the trouble of working with steel.

Sure, it wasn't nearly as lucrative as her old life, but she was a lot happier here. Most folks didn't say anything mean to her face, and politely greeted her in the street. She didn't have that many friends, but that was because she wasn't looking for them.

Although, maybe she should have been looking for them. She spent a lot of time on her little projects, designing new parts for the prototype flying machines, adding new workspace to her shop, acquiring materials, all of that business. All that work and no play made Gyro a dull griff. Or something along those lines. Apparently it was an old proverb, favoured by the wise elders of the community who wanted their descendants to live life and have fun instead of wasting all their time on their unfulfilling careers.

She shrugged to herself as she returned to hammering away at the metal.

*Clang!*

*Clang!* *Clang!*

*Clang!*

4 - Heart in a Bottle

In a forgotten part of Ponyville, a cloaked figure walked silently through the disused hallways of an abandoned office building. His parchment brown coat was barely visible through his hood, and his horn peeked out just below the brim.

Nopony went here, at least not anypony who meant well. The Old Town held a lot of relics, and not all of them were valued. This building had once been owned by the FlimFlam Investments and Holding Company, which itself had folded a few years ago when word got out that it was just another pyramid scheme.

What had went on in here? Nothing, except for a thin veneer of activity to keep up the illusion of prosperity. Secundus had made sure to look into that before choosing it as his bolt-hole. The halls were wholly and completely abandoned, the windows shuttered, and the doors locked.

Perhaps someday someone would make good deeds come from this place, instead of lies and deceit.

The lights flickered to life, revealing a collection of straw-filled dummies. Secundus set his saddlebags down by the door and inspected the room. No change since his last visit, which was ideal. He removed his duplicate claw devices from the bags, slipping them on and tightening the bolts. Approaching the dummies, he lunged as the hidden blades sprung forth. Two neat slashes appeared along the dummy's neck; it was a killing blow.

It'd been hard to track these things down. For his training, he'd wanted dummies that were sized and shaped accordingly to every species within Equestria's borders. Pony was easy enough -- all it took was perusing the old mannequins behind Rarity's boutique to find something he could use. Griffon, dragon, buffalo... much harder to find. For the sake of brevity, there had been a... shipment of such things headed for Manehattan that mysteriously disappeared from the train while it was offloading in Ponyville. Secundus regretted such a low, but he wanted to be ready.

So he attacked again, again, and again, each time leaving neat slashes across the surface of the dummy. He inspected them, checking for depth, and how clean the cut was. A cleaner cut could be easily sewn back together. An unclean cut was far more effort to repair, and damage the dummy's longevity. And of course, a clean cut meant that his weapons would be clear of the target for a followup strike.

These blades were Secundus's only weapons as of yet. The road ahead would be harsh, and who knew how safe Equestria really was? It seemed that despite Equestria's idyllic appearance, if you scratched deep enough the seedy underbelly would reveal itself. Crime syndicates in Manehattan, the lawless lands out towards Appaloosa and Dodge Junction, the recent corruption scandals of high-profile politicians in Fillydelphia, and most importantly of all? Underlying racial tensions between the so-called tribes.

None of it was overt, but when there were such tangible differences in ability between Unicorn, Pegasus, and Earth Pony, the unconscious bias expected Unicorns to rule, the Pegasi to serve, and the Earth Ponies to grow. Did it have roots in reality? Undoubtedly so. But was it fair to the individuals who had aspirations outside of what their tribe was historically known for? Take Fluttershy, for example. Her affinity for the natural world would be more likely expected of an Earth Pony given the current structure, but still she cared for animals much more than she did herself.

Secundus didn't have all the answers, but he damn-well had a lot of questions. If war came to Equestria, who would suffer the most? The Pegasi, with their ancient militaristic traditions? The Unicorns, who could cast spell upon spell to undo their foes? Or would it be the Earth Ponies, who had a natural strength deep within?

It would be a toss-up. But he knew exactly who wasn't going to suffer. The same ones who never suffered anything more than a drain on their vast finances. Aristocrats, bureaucrats, the ones who held power over others. The ones who would send others to their deaths to further their own interests.

Even here, he wouldn't be rid of them. The old men who'd sent him to war, to kill a bunch of poor bastards who were just trying to protect their homes from him. To kill a bunch of poor bastards who'd been tricked into dying for their country, just like him and the others had been. Here, they took a different form, but they would be the same. They'd see Equestria, with all its flaws, burn for their greed.

He was going to change that. But how? Ideas were brewing, plans fermenting. Soon, there would be no more questions.

Soon, he would have the answers.

It was cold today. Within the month, the streets and fields would be full of snow. The pale, white, fluffy kind

Bundled in his warmest clothes, Ink Blot was making his way to that familiar old glade in the forest. He'd been spending a lot of his time out there, despite the worsening weather and temperatures, not simply to mourn, but also to try and figure out what exactly he was going to do with himself. He needed a place of his own, he needed income, and he needed a hobby.

Right now? He had none of that.

He couldn't exactly explain why he hadn't found any ideas. Perhaps he was being lazy. Perhaps there wasn't any work suited for him-- no, that wasn't right. There was work all around him, it was just a question of how willing he was to do it. Considering his experiences and skill set, nothing seemed particularly inviting or fulfilling.

Come to think of it, he was in a similar spot to Ray. Difference was, Ray already had both a place to stay and a stable job. Ink Blot was currently living at the whims of those around him; if Starlight took offense to his presence, then she'd turn him out on the street and he wouldn't have a say in the matter. What little cash he still had was leftover from the applebucking season, and it wasn't going to last long enough.

The short of it? He didn't know what to do. He continued to mull over his situation as he made his way to the memorial.

Today, he'd brought a bottle of apple cider with him. It was from a few seasons ago, bottled by the Apple family after a bumper crop of their cider apples. Apparently the stuff was a local specialty, and exceedingly popular.

But that wasn't why he'd brought it. He didn't even like cider.

No, this cider wasn't for Ink Blot.

The glade where the memorial had been made was brown and dreary. The leaves had fully fallen from the trees, leaving a carpet of dull oranges, reds, and browns across the ground. And where grass poked through, it was brown and dead. The limbs of the trees above were like jagged spikes into the air above. Even so, the evergreens here and there still held their needles, and when the snows came the glade would look like it came right out of a dream.

Unexpectedly, a certain somepony was waiting for him in the glade. Ink Blot sighed to himself -- he wasn't in the mood for a heart-felt conversation today. There was something he needed to do, and as long as his visitor was present, he couldn't do it.

"Starlight." he greeted her. It was not a warm greeting, but it wasn't a cold one either. It was neutral.

"There you are, Ink Blot. How are you?" Starlight smiled.

"I've been better." Ink Blot shrugged noncommittally.

Starlight's smile melted away. "Should have guessed. His death must still be fresh for you."

"Knight was a big part of my life for almost four years. We relied on eachother when dark times came. There were a lot of dark times." Ink Blot remembered his friend fondly, though his voice was tinged with sadness. "I don't know if I'll ever meet someone like him again."

"Old friends are irreplaceable. I guess I should count myself lucky that I haven't had to bury any of mine." Starlight agreed sagely.

Ink Blot just nodded. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"What's the story with that thing you put up? I never asked before, out of respect, but I'm a little too curious for my own good." Starlight asked quietly.

"I suppose that shape's not particularly common around here, huh?" Ink Blot smiled briefly.

"Well, I can tell it's a cross, but what does it mean?"

"Not a cross, a crossguard," Ink Blot corrected her. "One of the many warrior traditions of Saint Helmar, a patron to soldiers no matter their stripe. In ancient times the way to mark an honoured soldier's grave was to thrust their sword into the dirt at their feet, and place their helmet atop it. As time passed, it was adopted the de-facto gravemarker for fallen soldiers across the world. When swords became obsolete and far less common, soldiers would shape one out of sticks."

"Why a sword? Why not some other kind of weapon, like a spear?" Starlight questioned.

Ink Blot laughed morbidly. "Hell if I know! I'm not a historian, or an archaeologist, not even a theologian. In the military, tradition is tradition, and you don't question it without a damned good reason. And even then, the answer you get makes even less sense than the tradition you questioned in the first place."

Starlight raised her eyebrow at that, but let the matter rest.

"Why are you here, Starlight?"

She shrugged. "I'm trying to figure you out again. Ever since you got your memories back, the picture I thought I had of you got blown out-of-whack."

"And have I really changed that much?" asked Ink Blot.

"Well..." Starlight trailed off, trying to think. "You were a lot more focused. Open, in some ways. Upbeat, despite dips here and there. And even though you had your own goals, you tried to help and give advice to me."

"What if you just didn't know me very well?" Ink Blot asked slyly.

"Clearly I don't! You've been keeping to yourself a lot, you know. It doesn't take a genius to figure out when something's on someone's mind."

Ink Blot nodded in affirmation, before rubbing his eyes and sighing. "Yeah, something's been on my mind. And no, it's not something I'd like to share."

"Funny," Starlight smiled softly. "How'd you know I was going to ask?"

"Half hunch, half observation. The dots are there, you just have to connect them." Ink Blot said.

"That only works if you know what order they need to line up, or if you already have a good idea of what they are." Starlight pointed out.

"True." Ink Blot nodded.

"Come to think of it, that's actually a pretty good metaphor." Starlight commented.

"It is," Ink Blot agreed. "Life is all about the big picture, and we have to connect the dots to figure it out."

"Except you never have enough dots. And other ponies might not have the same dots you do, but you don't know what dots are useful in figuring out the big picture." Starlight said thoughtfully.

Though he wanted to deny it, Ink Blot was eager to talk. Especially with someone who understood what he was saying. His mind began to wander along, exploring the metaphor. "You could have hundreds upon hundreds of dots and be no closer to the end, because all of your dots are revealing fine details in only a single corner. Though after that the metaphor starts to fall apart. How much do you need to understand the full picture? What if you lived a long time, and figured it out? Or if you never figured it out at all? And what if it meant nothing all along? Is there even anyone alive who has even a glimmer of understanding any of it?"

"Maybe. Who knows what Celestia, Luna, or even Discord would say about it? And why would their answer even make sense to us, since we don't have anywhere near as much knowledge as they do?" questioned Starlight.

And just like that, it came to him. He knew how to say what he wanted to say.

"That's about the thick of it, I suppose." Ink Blot mused.

"Thick of what?" Starlight frowned.

"I've been trying to put into words why I'm not going to share my experience with you -- or not yet, at least," Ink Blot said. He rubbed his eyes, constructing it as best he could. "Some of the things I've done... they aren't what you'd call "good". Or "savoury". There's not really anything positive about them."

"I mean, you're not the only one who's done some bad things, right? The first step in getting over them is talking about them." Starlight pointed out.

"You're right and all, but I still don't want to. I know I should, and I'm telling myself that it's probably for the best, but I can't do it. Fear, maybe? Shame? Shame sounds about right."

He went quiet for a while. Starlight was absolutely bubbling with more questions, her curiosity piqued, but wisdom told her to give him time to think and speak.

When he started again, there was something different about him, about how he was holding himself. His shame had risen to the surface, and he shut his eyes like he was trying not to see his mistakes again. "You guys, here in Equestria, in Ponyville... you don't know much about war, about being a soldier. It'll put you into positions... there isn't a right answer. You could do everything correct, and still be wrong. You could go entirely by the book and get thrown for a loop by something that's not in the bloody book."

"I know the feeling." commented Starlight.

"...I'm not entirely sure that you do, actually. Some of that, some of the decisions I made? I don't think you'd get it unless you went through the same experience. And, if you didn't know why I did what I did, you'd think less of me. A lot less of me." Ink Blot sighed.

Starlight furrowed her brow as she rested her head on her hooves. She hadn't expected it to be like that. What exactly had he done that he felt was so reprehensible? Had he been some kind of villain? She could recognise regret a lot better than most ponies, and Ink Blot had it in spades.

Regret, as an extension of remorse, were among the most important signs of a successful redemption. By showing it, a villain proved that they were willing to change. When she'd learned that what she'd done oh-so-long ago was bad, and why it was bad, she'd become receptive to Twilight's offer of Friendship. Had it been a long road to her redemption? Yes, and she owed every ounce of her ongoing success to Twilight's support and tutelage.

This, of course, was assuming that whatever Ink Blot had done put him in the same league as Starlight brainwashing a village to serve her, as well as her attempting to derail the time stream by ensuring Twilight and her friends never met. She and those involved had moved past these events, yes, but the weight and impact of her mistakes was not entirely gone. She regretted what she'd done, but knew that there wasn't any changing the past. Therefore, she had rededicated herself to atonement, to helping others, truly embracing her role at the School of Friendship.

Starlight dearly wanted to help Ink Blot, to repay the kindness offered to her by offering it unto others. But... his wasn't the same kind of situation she'd been in. Her experiences would not be a surefire guide to helping Ink Blot overcome it. Thus, she needed to keep an open mind and approach it from a different direction.

"Is there any way you could help me understand? Even a little?" Starlight asked.

Ink Blot shrugged. "I don't know."

"Is there anypony who could?"

He shook his head and laughed morbidly. "Starlight, the people who knew me best are long gone. All that's left of them are what you see before you. These stones represent four of my brothers-in-arms, and everything I remember about them." Ink Blot gestured to the memorial.

"But there's five stones..?" Starlight muttered as she counted.

"The last one is for me. Some day, maybe soon, I'll join them. And on that day I'll be happy again."

Starlight looked into his eyes pleadingly, to see if he really meant what he was saying, but Ink Blot's gaze was uncompromising as he looked towards the crossguard.

"Well, maybe there are some ponies who've been through something similar? You could talk about your experiences, relate to eachother. Or maybe I could talk to them and I'd be closer to understanding you?"

Perhaps there were. He knew a few ponies who were keeping secrets.

"Maybe try Quill. We've been on the same wavelength for a while, even after I got my memory back. I also know two other ponies who might, but unless they're more willing to come forward than me, their identities will remain secret." said Ink Blot.

"I'll talk with him, then," Starlight replied. She could tell his mind was made up about a lot of things, and her sitting here badgering him wouldn't change it. "And if you want anything, my office is open. Trixie's is too. We don't exactly have answers, but we've got ears. We'll listen, no matter what it is."

Ink Blot did not respond. He didn't want to. He just wanted to be alone right now.

With that, Starlight politely took her leave, and Ink Blot was alone at the memorial.

Ink Blot knew he wouldn't be able to keep everything secret forever. Prying eyes and straining ears would get the truth from him, one way or another.

He'd deal with that in good time though. For now, he was going to pay respects.

"Hey, man," he whispered as he came close to the standing crossguard. "It's been tough out here. Equestria's a strange place. Every day I'm still alive I realise how much you really did for me. If I wasn't sure, all I had to do was look to you and you'd know exactly what I needed to do. But... Equestria's a better place than it was back home, and those hard times we went through are over. I just hope you're in a better place too."

Ink Blot received no response, except for a gust of wind. It kicked a few loose leaves across the glade. He swallowed his brimming tears and reached into his saddlebags.

"I, uh, got you something. Not just for Knight, but for the rest of you too. Bottle of cider. Non-alcoholic, so it can't be all that good, but it's better than nothing," he smiled weakly as he awkwardly took up the bottle with his left claw device. "I miss having friends like you every day, and wish that even one of you could be here with me today."

Bringing the bottle to his mouth, Ink Blot bit the cork and pulled it out. He spat it to the ground and took a swig of the apple brew. It had a sweet and sour tang, just like an apple bucked fresh from the tree. He had to admit that it was pretty good.

He swished it around in his mouth to savour it, then poured some cider over the memorial.

From one perspective, it was dumb. This particular tradition had been started as a way of giving the buried one last "worldly comfort" before being taken to whatever afterlife they believed in. Here, there was no body; it was just a marker with five stones arrayed in front of it.

But for Ink Blot, and many others he'd known, it wasn't the physical presence of the body that mattered. It was the intention. One final goodbye before moving on to better things.

He'd never really be ready for the final goodbye. Never had been, for any of the losses he'd suffered in his life.

Not for any of the soldiers who'd fallen around him, never to rise again. Not for the world he knew, destroyed by the fires of war.

Not for the few classmates he'd cared about, left behind when he enlisted.

Not for his parents, taken from him by cruel twists of fate.

He drank one last glup, and poured out the last of the bottle's contents, enough for the fallen squad to have a gulp as well. He remembered each of them in turn. LaValley, who'd kept their spirits up. Zimmerman, with his words of encouragement. Williams, who'd kept them on track. And Knight, who'd inspired them to work together.

"Life's a bitch, eh boys?"

The sun hung low over the School of Friendship, most of the classes now done for the day. Later in the evening, there was going to be a special astronomy lesson that the history students were encouraged to attend for extra credit. It was all tied into the current unit, where they were looking at the legend of the Mare in the Moon. The amount of people who didn't know that the Mare in the Moon was actually a side-effect of Princess Luna's banishment was astonishing.

This was not to be confused with astrology, which was not being taught at the school by the founder's express wishes.

Quill paced uncertainly outside the main office. He'd just finished his weekly lesson with Ocellus, and his "presence had been requested" by the Headmare. Had he done something wrong? Had something happened? Out of habit, he'd raised his usual disguise; his writer's persona, with the purple mane and pale blue coat.

In times like this, it was his defense against the world. There was no Changeling infiltrator here, only a humble writer who ate bagels and drank coffee.

Except he was still a Changeling. No disguise could change his true self.

Which, admittedly, was why he'd started the tutoring with Ocellus. She understood how Changelings could really change, having been through such a change. But it wasn't as simple as pushing a button; true change came from within, by making it yourself... which didn't quite make sense to him yet.

He also didn't appreciate the irony yet, either.

Eventually, the door to the office opened and Starlight stepped out. "Quill? Is that you?"

"Y-yes, hi -- you wanted to see me?" Quill stuttered.

"Come in, come in! Sorry about the wait, there was some... business I had to take care of first." she smiled, but it quickly disappeared.

The two of them entered Starlight's office. It was very much the same as last time Quill had been here. There was a large, but welcoming desk that dominated the room, with a few chairs arrayed around it. The beloved philodendron perched on a sidetable in the corner, near a pair of armchairs for more casual talks.

When Quill made to sit in front of the desk, Starlight piped up "Don't worry, this isn't anything formal! Just sit by Phyllis over there."

"Phyllis?" Quill questioned with a frown.

"...The plant. That's the plant's name." Starlight sighed.

Quill continued to frown, but sat down anyway. The armchair was soft, but not the kind of soft where you were at risk of becoming lost inside it. "Hello, Phyllis." he said to the plant.

Phyllis did not respond.

"Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?" Starlight asked.

"I, uh, can't eat most pony food yet. If I have too much, I get sick." Quill said.

"Of course, my bad." Starlight replied sheepishly. She brought over a cup of coffee for herself, setting it down on the table beside Phyllis. Clearly she was anticipating a long conversation.

Despite how welcoming Starlight was being, Quill remained tense. Doubts clouded his mind as he imagined the worst. "Am I in trouble?" he asked.

"What?" Starlight said with confusion.

"Is it my grades? Am I not doing well enough? I can do better, I promi-"

"Quill, you're not a fulltime student yet," Starlight cut him off. "And if this were just about your grades, this would be a very different kind of meeting, believe me."

Quill sighed in relief. He leaned back and began to relax...

"I talked to Ink Blot earlier."

...Only for all of his tension to return in an instant. He sat up stock-straight at the mention of his friend's name. "Ink Blot? Is he okay? Did something happen?" Quill buzzed with questions.

"No -- or at least, not yet. I've got a bad feeling about him." Starlight said sadly.

"Explain."

Starlight rested her head on her hooves as she sighed. "Today was the latest in my attempts to figure out how to relate to him. He avoids me for some reason, like there's something going on that I don't know about. He almost had a physical altercation with Trixie when she tried to talk with him. Have you noticed anything odd about him, er, odder than normal?"

He thought for a moment. The past few weeks hadn't exactly been eventful, but Quill knew that Ink Blot had been seeing exactly one person. Himself. Quill wracked his brain to try and remember.

"He's been... well, he's been quiet. Sometimes it'll seem like there's something he wants to say, but can't. Or won't. We chat, and we hang out, and sometimes he tells me little things he remembers. But not everything." Quill recalled.

"And from what we know, you're probably the closest to him of everyone he knows, correct?"

Quill nodded affirmation. "Yeah. He's come to see me for a while almost every day since he got his memory back. He rarely talks to the others he met before that. We ran into Radiant Star the other day, though."

"He's the bread colt, right? Delivers bread from that bakery?" Starlight asked.

"That's the one."

"Anypony else he talks to? At all?"

Quill shook his head. "If he does, he doesn't mention it. I'm the only one he really trusts, and that still has its limits."

"Then it could be worse than I thought," Starlight sighed. Her horn glowed, and from one of her many shevles a bottle floated over. "From what it sounds like, and from what I've seen, he's suppressing his emotions."

"He's not suppressing them. In fact, he's the most emotional I've ever seen. He can barely keep it in, most days" Quill frowned.

"That's how it seems to you, maybe. You're all about emotions, so even the tiniest signs speak volumes. However, to the less experienced like myself, Trixie, or any other pony around town, he's been coming off as detatched, withdrawn, reserved. He's been keeping it all inside. For example, have you seen him cry at all? Actually crying?"

"No... no, I haven't." said Quill.

"Thought so. I actually had a similar problem for a while," Starlight said as she indicated the bottle she'd brought over. "For an entire day, I decided not to deal with any of my negative emotions, magically sealing them away in a bottle like this one. Safe and secure, for easy disposal -- or so I thought."

"Wouldn't there be a huge risk of contamination if it got released?" Quill asked.

Starlight nodded. "That's exactly what happened. The bottle got too full, and broke from the pressure. The emotional contaminants latched onto other ponies and caused them to act out. I was only able to reverse the effects by taking the contaminants back into myself and addressing what initially caused them."

"Are you saying that Ink Blot's doing the same thing? He can't use magic." Quill pointed out

"Not quite the same, but my theory is that it's similar in effect, and in-line with other sorts of non-magical emotional suppression. My fear? That there's going to be a breaking point." Starlight said sadly.

"And when that happens, you think others could be at risk? That he could hurt somepony?"

"Yes. Maybe even himself," Starlight confirmed gravely. She rubbed her eyes as she sighed, running over possibilities and contingencies in her head. "I don't know what he's capable of. How much damage he could do. He doesn't have access to magic, but I'm not entirely convinced that he couldn't have a lot of hidden potential. If he... broke... there could be untold destruction and damage."

"A ticking time bomb." Quill said.

Starlight threw up her hooves in frustration. "And the worst part is, we don't know when he'll break! He's keep it in this long, so he must have enormous willpower... but that just means that if he doesn't safely release his emotional buildup, it'll just get worse and worse. The cracks are already forming -- the altercation he nearly had with Trixie could have been much worse--"

"He blew up on Ray." Quill cut her off.

Starlight was taken off-guard. "Blew up? What do you mean? What happened? How bad was it?" her questions came rapid-fire.

Quill held up his hoof to halt her words. "He got angry because Ray mentioned joining the Canterlot Guard. He ranted for a little while without realising it, and quieted back down pretty quickly."

"But Ray already has a job, why would he..?"

"He's not satisfied with the bakery, wants something more fulfilling. He brought it up, and Inks..." Quill trailed off worryingly.

"Why the Canterlot Guard, though?" Starlight asked, but she quickly shook her head. "Nevermind, not important right now."

A foreboding silence grew between them. As much as they didn't like it, the possibilities were terrifying; if left to his own devices, Ink Blot would likely do more harm than good. And if he did? He'd suffer for it. Judging by what Starlight knew of him, he'd be wracked with guilt, on top of whatever guilt he was already suffering from. And then, if he lashed out...

...Would he become the villain of his own story?

No. That was not an option. Starlight would not allow it. Nopony would become evil under her watch, not again.

Quill, his eyes full of fear, finally asked a simple question.

"What are we going to do?"

5 - Dawn Amble

It was overcast again today. Grey skies above, and wind that would chill you to the bone.

Bundled up in his warmest clothes, Ink Blot set out shortly after waking up, not even stopping for a bite of breakfast. He didn't really need it, and it would probably be better for him to eat somewhere that wasn't the castle today. Otherwise, he'd inevitably run into Starlight. He did not want to. Something about how she'd been acting yesterday gave him a bad feeling. And what if she started asking more questions? He didn't want to be a burden on her conscience, especially if she didn't know what she was getting into.

Perhaps one day he'd open up to her, but today he had to keep his eyes on the prize. Two ponies, one cyan like toothpaste, the other a pale waxy brown like a candy wrapper. Lyra and Bon Bon. Or, as he'd started calling them in his head, "The Dynamic Duo". His marks would not be easy to find. They knew how to blend into the background, to become an uninteresting part of the crowd. He'd only find them if they wanted him to.

It had been a little while since he'd decided to wander the streets. The encroaching cold had driven most folks back indoors, and most of those little spring-up stalls were being shuttered or even disassembled. For the next few months, business would mostly be conducted almost exclusively indoors. Warmer that way.

The cafes and bistros too, had brought most of their seating back inside, except for the ones that offered some kind of "seasonal experience". For the springtime, it was flowers. Summer had parasols and cool drinks. In the fall, that meant leaves and pumpkins. In the winter? They had snow; lots and lots of snow. Maybe something like maple taffy if you were lucky, and a warm fireplace was always welcome.

Eventually, Ink Blot got tired of walking around in the cold, and started looking for somewhere he could go inside and warm up. He was certainly spoiled for choice, but somehow a lot of the places he walked past . Perhaps somewhere he could get both a drink and a snack?

He browsed some of the nearby cafes for ideas. That one over there seemed like a decent place, with a warm theme and natural lighting. The sign above the door read Tasses d'Amour, which he hoped meant that it sold tea and coffee. He quickly stepped inside and ordered his drink, as well as a yummy looking cinnamon pretzel. While he waited for his order, he casually sat down by the counter.

He was not certain that he'd find the duo today, or even tomorrow. Ink Blot didn't know much about them, and he wasn't caught up on any local gossip that could give him any leads. Not that he cared for gossiping himself, he typically liked to keep his non-critical concerns to himself, but having an ear open when someone else was running their mouth was a surprisingly good source of information.

In fact, there were two ponies nearby gossiping right now. They were animatedly discussing something at a table a few metres away from him, lost in their own world.

"Like, Willow, you should have seen Glory's face when I told her about it! It's like she didn't see it coming at all!" said the noisier of the two, a blue pegasus with a braided lavender mane.

"Well she should have, with how she treated her it's a wonder why it didn't happen earlier." said her companion, a lean earth pony with a pinkish-white mane that draped low over her eyes and a slate-grey coat.

Ink Blot chuckled to himself slightly as he found himself listening in. How old were those two; were they just barely out of their teen years? Probably. Pretty close to his own age, if he had to guess. Mature enough to do their own thing, but not so mature that they had their future planned out.

He envied their youthful innocence and enthusiasm. He'd lost his back in... well, it felt like it'd been a long time. Four years service, after enlisting at the first opportunity? Whatever innocence he'd had, it was gone now. Any friends he'd had from before that were missing, presumed dead, or known to be KIA.

Ink Blot's order arrived in short order, and he set himself out in a seat near the window. He'd gotten a chai tea latte, with an appealing poof of whipped cream as a topper. A nice morning pick-me-up to give him some warmth before venturing back outside. Really, he could have drank any hot beverage for that, even if it was just a cup of warm water. With a latte, he could sip and pretend to have some glimmer of happiness.

Once upon a time, he'd have been coming off his watch, retreating to the mess tent for a breather before catching what sleep he could. They'd served coffee there, horrible stuff that tasted like it'd been burnt, and there was almost always a pot of water boiling for tea or instant noodles. Usually he went for the tea.

At least, that's how it'd been when they'd still been camped outside the city. After their sister unit, the 23rd "Dorsten Lancers" Cavalry had captured Kirma, the Keleseth Guard were tasked with garrisoning it against counterattacks and insurgent activity.

Except they hadn't really captured the city. Not the hearts of its people. There was that oh-too-familiar rallying cry, "they can destroy our homes but they can never destroy our spirit", and within days there were insurgents behind every lamp post. They didn't have a reliable way to distinguish non-combatants from belligerents, so every single patrol and checkpoint was on constant alert. Near-daily attacks and incidents wore them down, both in body and spirit. Ink Blot had been in some real bad spots, and made some... questionable calls. Some days, like now, they were all he could think about.

They'd lost people. Lots of them. Not all of them dead. And for what? So some dusty general who'd never set foot in the place could sit proudly in front of a map, showing off all their territorial gains to a bunch of politicians?

That was probably the worst part, knowing that the ones who'd callously spent their soldiers like pocket change would never see retribution.

If he could, he'd have hunted them all down and strangled them with his bare hands. Of course, he no longer had any hands.

Most, if not all, of his comrades were lost to him. Dead and decaying, or crippled, or missing, or currently complicit in enforcing what was in all likelihood a fascist regime.

That's why Ink Blot and his buddies had gone AWOL. They didn't want to be tools of oppression, not again. It was easy to dissociate when you were in a foreign land, but when it was back home? With your friends, your family, your loved ones being crushed under your own boots?

Not that it mattered anymore. Here he was, in Equestria. Even if he'd wanted to go back, he didn't know if it was possible. Some kind of magic had been at play, and that wasn't something he understood.

Ink Blot couldn't help but wonder if things could have been different that night. Maybe they'd have taken a different route, ignoring that damned town altogether? Maybe if someone else had joined them, or if one of them had stayed behind? Maybe if they'd decided to stay, and do what they could to make things better? Maybe if he'd never enlisted in the first place?

Maybe.

Wrinkling his nose as he tried to quell his rising emotions, Ink Blot downed the last of his drink and stuffed the pretzel into his bag for later. He couldn't keep going over things that could have happened, because they simply hadn't happened. All the "maybes" in the world wouldn't change a bloody thing.

Ink Blot tried to steer his thoughts towards his self-appointed task. Anything was better than wallowing in memories and self-pity.

Those two mares, Lyra and Bon Bon... secret agents, they were. Emphasis on were. Their organisation, S.M.I.L.E., once had secret operatives all across Equestria in several different branches. One of those branches had been dedicated to rooting out Changelings, at least until a peace had been brokered. When Princess Twilight took the throne, and the organisation's records opened to her, she had been disgusted by how ruthless they had been in their... interrogation of the captured Changelings.

Bon Bon had originally been in the organisation's Bugbear branch, and was covertly planted in Ponyville with a false identity to protect her from reparations. When the Changelings began their infiltration efforts in earnest, S.M.I.L.E. reactivated Bon Bon and recruited Lyra to assist with their counter-operations. When a lasting peace was reached, the two of them returned home, to resume their lives in Ponyville, and never to reveal their secrets.

That was, at least, until they incorrectly identified Ink Blot as a freshly dispatched infiltrator, and began tracking his activities around town, culminating in an attempt to capture both himself and Quill. Oopsies. Once that misconception had been cleared up, they'd let him go free on the condition that he keep the secret. He did.

And come to think about it, he'd not seen hide nor hair of them since. It was almost like they were avoiding him.

Ink Blot did not have long to dwell on this, however, as he noticed someone watching from the shadows. A shadowy figure was observing him from a nearby alleyway. He knew not to react strongly, or look in that direction for too long, but there was unmistakeably someone standing in the alleyway between Quills and Sofas, and Petunia's Paperbacks.

Could that be one of them?

"HIYAH!"

A sudden, loud greeting took Ink Blot by surprise. Ink Blot instinctively pivoted and reeled around, readying himself for a fight --

But it was only Pinkie Pie. She smiled and laughed, prancing around like she'd just won some sort of contest.

"Scheisse, you scared me half to death!" he said angrily, before breathing a sigh of relief.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist! You're wound up so tight, you're like a rubber band ball!" Pinkie replied sheepishly.

She was lucky. What if he'd lashed out before recognising her? What if he'd accidentally hurt her? There were so many things he could have said, none of them kindly. Instead he rubbed his eyes and said, "Please, never do that again."

Pinkie's smile quickly faded, but it didn't quite disappear either. "Okay," she accepted with a sincere nod. "Sooooooo... what are you up to?"

"Looking for someone." Ink Blot responded shortly.

"Can I help?" she asked.

Ink Blot frowned. His first instinct was to say no, but... Pinkie was probably the most well-connected mare in town. She'd have an untold amount of information about Ponyville's inhabitants, which included Lyra and Bon Bon. That was a resource he would do well to tap into.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Do you know?"

"Know what?" she asked right back.

"Where who I'm looking for might be."

Pinkie thought for a moment. Taking this as a "no", Ink Blot shrugged and made to leave.

"Well, I might know where who you're looking for, but how would I know who you're looking for if I don't know what you know? You know?" she rambled energetically.

"I don't know if I know what you said. You know?" Ink Blot snorted.

Pinkie's energy seemed to be growing by the second, as she immediately began again,"If I know what you know, then you'll know what I know, and the more you know, and the more I know, the more we know. And knowing's half the battle!"

"Well, what do I know if I don't know what you know?" Ink Blot replied once more. He couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Then you know nothing, Ink Blot!" Pinkie shouted in a mocking tone, pointing dramatically at Ink Blot. It lasted a moment before her composure broke and she started laughing at the absurdity of it.

Ink Blot chuckled and his smile got wider, but it was only momentary. He remembered his task, and his smile melted away. "I'm looking for Lyra Heartstrings and Bon Bon." he said in a hushed voice.

"Oh, I know exactly where they are!" Pinkie smiled, happy to be of assistance. "They're inseparable, and they're actually out on a date right now!"

"Wait, really?" Ink Blot asked.

"Yes, silly! I'll tell ya where if you answer a little question, though~!"

What harm was there in a little question? "What's the question?" he asked as he cocked his head to the side.

"Why don't you smile very much?"

That... wasn't a little question. At least not to Ink Blot. He went quiet.

Emotions were such a difficult subject, especially when you're expected to ignore them in the line of duty. You weren't supposed to cry over the death and destruction, you weren't supposed to pity your enemies, you weren't supposed to smile at the little boy watching you ride by on a Ranger past the ruins of his family home. You just weren't supposed to.

Everyone knew that if you let yourself think about how horrible it all was, you'd get sloppy. If you got sloppy, then you'd be the next one going home in a box.

Ink Blot wasn't in any real danger anymore. So why did he still feel like he was? Was he damaged in some way? Was something about him wrong? Broken, even?

"I don't really know. I guess... I haven't had that much to smile about." he shrugged.

In the past month and a half, he'd probably smiled about a dozen times. And by that, he meant an actual smile, because he was happy or laughing or something. How often were people supposed to smile? And why would an average person know how often they smiled?

"Huh," Pinkie said. She thought for a moment, rubbing her chin like she was playing with a non-existent beard. "I guess that makes sense. What does make you smile, then? What makes you happy?"

"I think it's a little more abstract than you might realise." Ink Blot replied, trying to change the subject.

Pinkie covered her mouth as she suppressed a laugh. "I'm not that airheaded, Inkaminka."

"Inkaminka?" he asked.

"Inkaminka! It's the new nickname I've been calling you in my head because it's really fun to say! When I smile,it's because I'm having fun, and because I want everyone around me to smile and have fun too. I smile when I'm happy, I even smile to myself when I'm thinking of how happy everyone will be when I invite them to a party, because them being happy makes me more happy." Pinkie rambled, continuing to smile, like she was reminded of a fond memory.

Ink Blot tried to flash a smile, but it fell flat. He sighed, "Is it alright if I think on it and get back to you? This conversation is getting far more philosophical than I thought it would."

"Oh, of course!" she beamed. "It's not really a simple question, because you need to to look deep inside yourself to understand what makes you you, and what makes you happy. If someone answered right away, then they'd probably be lying. Or guessing. Sometimes both! Usually guessing!"

"Then I'll let you know as soon as I know." Ink Blot said.

"Okie-doki-doki then," Pinkie smiled again, before looking directly at something in the distance and waving emphatically. "HI QUILLIAM!" she shouted.

Ink Blot followed her gaze with a confused frown. He followed it to the same alleyway where the shadowy observer had been lurking. They were still there, but now rested their face in their hoof in shock and disappointment. Their cover blown, they emerged wordlessly from the shadows.

It was indeed Quill, in his usual writer's disguise. He awkwardly slunk out from the alley and waved at Ink Blot. "Uh, hey! Fancy seeing you here?" he greeted Ink Blot with a grimace.

"Anyway, here you go," Pinkie said, sticking a piece of paper onto Ink Blot's mane with tape. It fluttered in the breeze a moment, but the tape held. "Everything you need is on the receipt!"

Before Ink Blot could even reply, Pinkie was gone. He looked around, but could find no trace of her. He turned instead to Quill, who was half-heartedly trying to sidle away.

"Following me, were you?" Ink Blot asked with a raised eyebrow.

"...Yeah." Quill muttered.

"Now why would that be?"

Quill sighed. "There's, uh, some things that Starlight wanted to talk to you about."

"If she wanted to talk, she could have talked plenty yesterday." Ink Blot said, as he pulled the receipt from his mane and inspected it. The awkwardness of manually opening and closing the claws was not lost on him, but he still managed to read the receipt.

1 Grilled Cheese Sandwich with Multigrain Poppers, 15 Bits.
1 Dandelion Salad, 11 Bits.
1 Black Coffee, 2.5 Bits.
1 Green Tea, (3 Milk, 1 Sugar) 2.5 Bits.
Thanks for visiting Sandy's Sammies and Greens!

Bingo.

"Well, you see, after she talked to you she talked to me, and she's worried about you. I'm worried about you." Quill tried to explain.

"Have you ever been to Sandy's Sammies and Greens before?" Ink Blot asked.

"Yeah, it's right by the town hall-- wait, why are you asking? Can we stay on topic here?"

Ink Blot glanced at him as he stuffed the receipt into his saddlebags. "Tracking someone. Two someones. I need answers from them about a few things. You're welcome to tag along, but I'll understand if you don't."

"Huh? What, why?" Quill blinked.

"I'm trying to track down the ones you called the Snatchers. I've got questions, and they've got answers."

"Really? Alone?" he asked. For the first time in a while, Ink Blot saw fear in Quill's eyes.

"They'll be in a public location, so if they do anything ill-advised? I'll cause a scene. There's no telling whose side the mob would take, but either way I'd like to think I could take care of myself if things went sideways." Ink Blot smiled. It was joyless, mostly shown for Quill's benefit.

"But they captured you! They took you away! They might do it again..."

"True, but they also let me go and said that they wanted to make up for the trouble." he pointed out.

Quill was not convinced. "I don't know about this, Ink Blot. It doesn't feel safe."

Ink Blot thought for a brief moment. The answer seemed obvious to him. He placed his hoof on Quill's shoulder, as if to comfort him. "Then come with me!" he urged his friend.

"What?" Quill gasped in shock. His eyes opened wide, and he almost seemed to shrink. He would have fled into the shadows, had Ink Blot's steady and reassuring hoof not been on his shoulder.

"Steel yourself, and come face your fear." Ink Blot said again.

"B-b-but--"

Ink Blot silenced Quill with his other hoof. "Hundreds of years ago, a hero of old once said; it is better to face fear side by side with a friend, than to let it dog your every waking moment." he quoted, remembering an idiom he'd once been told.

"Who said that, exactly?" Quill asked. He was trying to derail the conversation.

"No one knows for sure. They keep finding older and older references," Ink Blot eagerly replied, but he quickly stopped himself from explaining more of it. Did it really matter who'd said it? Anyone else who even remotely cared was gone, either dead or an ungodly distance away. "But, I don't think there's anyone left to look. Anyway, that's not the important part. The important part is what it means, to me, and to you."

Quill frowned as he thought. What it meant to him, indeed. His first instinct was the same as always, to hide away and wait for trouble to pass him over. In fact, he could trace the best path from anywhere in Ponyville to his hideout. If he left right now he could be there in less than twenty minutes, tops.

But in his heart he knew that it wasn't the right thing to do. If he did, Ink Blot could be going into danger alone. If something happened, then he wouldn't know about it until it was too late to help. And it would be Quill's fault, for leaving him alone.

He was afraid, and not just for himself. Quill looked to Ink Blot, who patted his shoulder reassuringly.

With a sigh, Quill nodded his assent. "Okay. I'll come with you." he said.

Ink Blot nodded in return, then gestured in the direction of the town hall without another word. Together, they started on their way to the sandwich shop, ready for whatever would come.

"Hey, uh, could I..?"

"...Fine, you can have as many as you like."

Today was a momentous day for these two mares. It marked five years that they'd known together. Five years, through thick and thin, through fire and water. And of course, all the moments and secrets they'd shared.

"I don't know what the point of going on that diet was if you're just going to eat my poppers anyway." said Bon Bon.

"You know you love me," Lyra smiled mischievously as she stole away yet another one of the poppers. A choice selection of grains clumped together, and then deep fried? It was her greatest weakness. "And it's not my fault that you ordered them! They came with the grilled cheese! It's only fair that we share."

Even if she was only pretending to be angry, Bon Bon couldn't stay angry at Lyra. She smiled and opened her mouth expectantly. Within moments, her dear Lyra carefully fed her a popper. She bit down on it with an audible *Crunch!*.

Sandy's Sammies and Greens was their favourite sandwich shop. It had a small menu, yes, but everything was consistently top quality. Perhaps it was the fancy panini press behind the counter, or perhaps it was the freshly baked bread, or maybe it had something to do with the cheery stallion who lovingly crafted each sandwich with a smile on his face? His name was Spinach, and never seemed to have a bad day in his life.

"I can't believe it's only been five years. Somehow it feels like it's been forever." Bon Bon said thoughtfully.

"If this is what forever's like -- oh, Celestia these are good -- then I don't want forever to end." Lyra replied between bites. As the supply of poppers dwindled, she begrudged the rest of them to her marefriend, and finally turned her attention to her dandelion salad; it was drenched in a raspberry vinaigrette, and mixed with slices of carrots, parsnips, and even some small apple chunks.

With a shrug, Bon Bon bit into her grilled cheese sandwich with gusto. There were a hundred things she could have said, and a hundred ways to say them. But, instead, all she did was nod her agreement.

Th two of them made a little small-talk over the rest of their meal, but for the most part they were simply content to enjoy their moment together. When Spinach came around with the fresh pots of coffee and hot water, they gratefully topped up their drinks. Bon Bon usually drank her coffee dark, while Lyra preferred a sweet and creamy green tea.

"I wonder what's coming up for us next?" Lyra sighed contentedly.

Bon Bon chuckled. "Honestly? I don't care, as long as I get to do it with you."

"O-oh, that's sweet..." Lyra blushed.

The two of them smiled happily as they clinked their cups together.

But then something ruined their moment. The bell above the door jingled, and two ponies walked in. Bon Bon, caught in the middle of a sip of coffee, almost spat it out in shock when she saw who they were.

"Is something wrong?" asked Lyra.

She swallowed her coffee nervously. "Don't look now, but it's them."

"Them?" Lyra asked, but realisation quickly dawned on her. She fought the urge to look. "Oh. Oh no. Do they know we're here? What do they want?"

"Can't tell yet. It's a public place, so they probably won't try anything, but be on your guard." Bon Bon said in a hushed tone.

Quill and Ink Blot looked around, quickly scanning the shop's patrons. Considering the weather, there was a surprising amount of folks eating here today. It was barely a moment before they spotted the two love birds. Ink Blot nudged his companion, and the two started towards them.

"They're coming this way." Bon Bon whispered.

"What do we do?" Lyra asked, ready for anything.

"We act professional and respectful. I'm betting they want trouble as little as we do."

Lyra nodded.

As Ink Blot and Quill approached, Quill glanced at Ink Blot nervously. He still wasn't sure that this was a good idea, even with his reassurances. Ink Blot gave him a faint smile and a nod as he casually walked towards the table.

Despite the nature of the establishment, the atmosphere between them was tense. Neither party wanted to make the first move, lest they appear too aggressive.

"I hope we're not, er, interrupting anything." Ink Blot greeted them. His apologetic tone put Bon Bon at ease -- but only slightly.

"Well..." Lyra began nervously.

"We were, uh, having a moment." Bon Bon nodded.

Ink Blot shrugged. "I'm sorry, then. Do you mind if we joined, or that is to say, sat down?"

"Can't exactly stop you, can we?" Bon Bon muttered.

"Which is why I'm asking. There's some things I'd like to chat about, and it's best that we avoid causing trouble." said Ink Blot.

"Then pull up some chairs, and make sure it's all above board. Nothing that's best left in the dark, okay?"

Ink Blot understood what she meant. The whole business about actually being part of an anti-Changeling task force, dedicated to rooting out potential infiltrators? That was best left secret. He didn't think many ponies would take kindly to being spied on by a branch of their own government, even if it had started with good intentions.

He'd seen it before. The scandal had almost torn the Republic apart.

He grabbed two empty chairs from a nearby table, moving them closer to Bon Bon and Lyra. "There's a few questions I have that are, unfortunately, related to all that business. Perhaps we could go somewhere less public for that? At least somewhere without so many prying ears."

"Really depends on where. I hope you'll understand if we don't want to be lured somewhere dangerous." Bon Bon replied.

"Uh, maybe we should just go..." Quill grimaced. His courage was beginning to fail him, and he wanted to leave before somethign bad happened.

Ink Blot sighed. "Look, I'm going to cut to the chase. Quill is afraid of you, because of a few things, well, he saw in that old prison. He lost friends because of that place, and he's scared to death of something happening because of you two. I'm sure neither of you mean him any real harm, but I'm trying to help him face his fear, and that means I gotta stick up for him. Because we're friends."

"Y-yeah, friends." Quill muttered weakly.

At first, Bon Bon was unyielding. She met Ink Blot's eyes coldly, and he could tell that she wasn't one to compromise. But he wasn't going to back down either.

His patience was soon rewarded. Lyra reached across the table and laid her hoof in front of Bon Bon. "It can't hurt, Bon Bon. We can help him. Make up for all the... you know." she pleaded.

Her companion's hard expression softened. Perhaps there was some merit there, after all this time. The war in the shadows may have been over, but it had left intangible marks on both of them. Ink Blot could recognise those marks, but only because he had some just like them.

"You're right, Lyra," Bon Bon finally said. "Maybe it really is time to talk about it -- but not here. I hope you have somewhere in mind."

"I think so." Ink Blot nodded.

The two lovebirds shared a nod, and once they were all in agreement, they left the sandwich shop.