Of Chimerasby SiofraChaptersPrologueUnderseer 1Underseer 2PrologueIt’s just pageantry, I reminded myself. Rehearsal for pageantry. Nevertheless, as I stared into the mirror and examined a colt in distinguished naval fineries, an immense feeling of pride began to balloon in my chest. A tear threatened escape. I turned my attention to a nearby window and studied the bustling square below. Ponyville was always teeming with activity around this time of year, just one week until the Hearth’s Warming Celebration. Just one week and they would be enjoying my handiwork. I was not nervous. I had become quite used to the routine. I had become quite talented at my duty. I descended into the town hall’s auditorium. It was nearly as busy as the streets, full of ponies toiling to realise my vision. The usual banners had been replaced for the week with some romantic interpretation of the ancient pony tribes; the proud profile of a unicorn surrounded by flawless jewels, the wings of a pegasus against a starry night, and a quartet of sequential art representing the earth ponies’ harvest. The rest of the wall was draped in rich, red velvet and accented by blue ribbons. Quite a bright blue, I noted. I took my place in a small booth full of likewise retired ponies of honour. I knew none of them very well, only for their names. Rapier Riposte was an old captain of the Royal Guard and an earth pony. He made for terrible conversation, but was an excellent disciplinarian if the stories are to be believed. Directly in front of me was a mare by the name of Mistral Wind, a representative of Cloudsdale’s aerial forces. As the curtains drew over the auditorium’s large overhead windows, a quick hush overcame the building. Soon, a single beam illuminated the stage and from it stepped a pony long and grey of mane. He approached the podium and drew from his waistcoat’s pocket a deck of cards. He began studying them as he recited- in quite a stressed voice: “Hearth’s Warming Eve… Let’s see,” he fumbled with the cards. A few fell to the podium and he retrieved one at random to read aloud. “When the three pony tribes… no, that’s not right. I’ve gone too far.” The Mayor’s monotony became white noise as a rustling sound crept from behind me. A sound if- were I not so bored- may have been imperceptible. A hoof perched itself on my shoulder and a soft voice soon followed. “Enjoying the rehearsal, Admiral Sea Fair?” I stirred from a slouch I hadn’t entirely realised I entered. I looked behind me and saw the all-too-familiar face of Angel Dove. “Quite,” I replied sternly. “This booth isn’t meant for civilians, filly.” She forced an indolent, hummed laugh. “You’re a civilian, Admiral.” I held my tongue and returned to the drone of the mayor’s speech, but Angel Dove wasn’t satisfied. I now felt a fluttering at my cheek, the fluttering of paper. “A letter came in the fire,” she said through her teeth. Between them was a tan scroll. I took it in the grasp of my magic and held it before me. Sure enough, I was the addressee. “It’s important to remember the people closest to us, and thank them for all they’ve done. To know that they’re loved and er… Was that before or after the uh…” “Your fire?” I inquired. “Heavens no!” Angel Dove rested into an elegant, relaxed perch. Her delicate pink mane bobbed as she contacted the floor. “The mayor’s. It seems whoever is writing knows you haven’t been spending very much time at home.” Examining the seal, it bore the emblem of the Princess. Curious beyond belief, I hesitantly tore the seal apart and unravelled the script. The penmanship was beautiful. Dear Admiral Sea Fair, I hope this season is treating you well. I am writing to congratulate you on your sixth year in a row managing the decoration of town hall for the Hearth’s Warming celebration. I hope this year will be as successful as all the last. I know my role in the festivities tends to be one of distant and fond regard, but I feel that same approach would hardly be appropriate with all the work and care you all put in every year. So I have parted with one of my most loyal and gifted students in order to keep a close eye on things in my stead. Her name is Aurora Star, and I have a feeling you both will be close friends. I realise that given your naval career, you have taken to guiding your fellow organisers yourself. I assure you, my protégé will not order or command and she will not tell you how to do your job. Her role is simply that of a director, to bind you all together in the true spirit of Hearth’s Warming Day; camaraderie. One more thing- and I ask this of you with all the gratitude in Equestria and beyond- Aurora has been granted accommodations in town hall which for the time being have been made unavailable. I understand you have been granted your own very large home in Ponyville with more than enough room to house a young filly. I assure you, she needs little room to herself. But living in Canterlot for so long has left her with certain expectations. I understand if I am asking for too much, please write back as soon as possible if this cannot be done and I will make other plans for her. She leaves in two weeks. Oh, and please do make her feel welcome. She will need time to adjust to life in Ponyville and get to know her fellow event organisers. Yours dutifully and eternally, Her Majesty Princess Celestia. “Two weeks?” I asked, hovering the letter over to Angel Dove. “In two weeks Hearth’s Warming Day will have come and gone!” “Yes…” said Angel sheepishly. “You would be right, only that letter arrived about… two weeks ago exactly.” I snapped to face Angel Dove. I couldn’t see my face of course, but I had a strong feeling it was one that could kill. She was suddenly preening her wings as if she had been occupied the whole time. “I’m not the paper colt!” she said shrilly. “It’s not my fault it got lost in the Mayor’s office.” “I can’t house this filly! What do you think I am?” I was trying my best to muster a hushed yell without disturbing the rehearsal. “You can’t not,” Angel riposted. “These are direct orders from the Princess herself! You had two weeks to refuse.” She was waving the letter around in her mouth. I sighed and wrested the paper from her teeth. My tired gaze returned to the mayor, who was becoming exhausted with his prepared speech. “In short, er… It is harmony that makes us stronger. And because of that, we… celebrate harmony… today.” Underseer 1“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?” My legs were sore and sluggish. I saw the mare long before I’d gotten anywhere near my home. It seemed she was waiting for me to come within earshot. I did not acknowledge her question. Simply, I unlocked the door and pushed myself through. Inside was draughty and eerily silent. In the foyer hung an unlit chandelier which had gathered a small cobweb. I heard the sound of luggage being shuffled across the floor, then the door shut behind me. “The Princess was expecting a response,” said Aurora. I faced her with heavy eyes. “Had the Princess received a response you wouldn’t be here right now.” She began trotting around the foyer, wrinkling her muzzle at the dust and the arid smell. She discarded a huge brown trunk at the foot of my stairs and sighed. “I will need a study, preferably one within my bedroom.” She peeked her head around the living room door and regarded the large bookshelf. “Is there a library in this town?” “Of course there is,” I said. “Golden Oak, its in the middle of town. I will take you if you like.” “Tomorrow,” she said. “I hope my room is ready, I’ve been travelling all day.” “How taxing,” I said. I shuffled up the stairs, and as I reached the top I noticed Aurora still standing there in the foyer. She looked at her luggage. “You don’t expect me to drag this all the way up there, do you?” “Ms. I assure you, if you were anything but a talented unicorn…” Her eyebrows sunk and her horn lit up in a yellow glow. She followed me up to the second floor, baggage in tow and I led her to her room. She was- quite stupidly- disappointed to see it just as unkept as the rest of the house. She dumped her trunk onto the bed and aroused a blizzard of dust. She began choking. Stoically, I tried my best not to inhale the dust or at least not react to it. “Don’t you have a maid!?” “If you’d like, I’d pay you to keep the house during your stay.” “As if,” she said as the dust settled. There was a slight flavour of caution in her voice, as if any sound too loud may provoke it again. “I will be far too busy in my duties.” “Your duties,” I repeated. “Have you organised an event like this before?” “It won’t be difficult. I only need to make sure you’re all doing your jobs.” “There’s more to it than that. It takes coordination, guidance-” “I hope you would all be competent enough by now not to need guidance.” She was unpacking her luggage now. Every drawer in the room was empty, save for whatever pests might have taken lease, so her possessions effortlessly danced in the air before resting into its natural place in the room. By the end of it all, the room felt denser. Even our voices became much less reverberant. “I wish it were that easy. We have a number of new faces to the event this year.” “Hah!” There was a sudden and quite unnerving song in her tone. “That explains it then. The Princess knows a disaster-in-waiting when she sees one. That’s why I’m here.” “No,” I said stolidly. Though it certainly felt more likely. “And if that were the case, I sense she would send somepony more… qualified.” “Qualified? Mr…” “Sea Fair. Admiral.” “Mr. Sea Fair, I am no stock and ditzy coed. I am Princess Celestia’s favourite, most accomplished and most trusted student. Do you have any idea what that means?” “I did not mean to offend. Just… have you considered that perhaps your presence here is meant more as a learning experience?” Aurora simply laughed- rather a sharp hum than a laugh. A fluffy blue robe came from her trunk and it wrapped itself around her shoulders. “I’d like to be left alone, please. You may run me a bath.” “Very well. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, Ms.” I trotted toward the door and began to shut it behind myself. “Goodnight.” The exchange was- with no concern shown for manners- exhausting. Yet despite this, I found an energy within me which hadn’t quite been there since this morning to be reignited. Passing the bathroom, I took myself to the living room where there was a small study and plenty of parchment to get to work with it. I spread the creamy paper across the desk’s surface and pressed against it a wet quill. By the end of the night I had written an agenda; of all the ponies we'd need to visit the next morning and in order of... difficulty. I sensed that Aurora would get along well with Angel Dove and possibly Purple Prose, so I slotted them into the early morning and left the other two to last. In the mid-day I would give her the opportunity to oversee my decorations. Feeling optimistic for the day to come, I pridefully rolled the agenda up with a knot of twine and left it on the desk. I headed for bed, it was the first time in days I'd be sleeping there. The draught upstairs had been tempered somewhat by the hot steam of a bath. I heard the scratching of a metal nib on paper. Aurora called out, "Can I use your fireplace, Mr. Sea Fair?" "Its in the living room," I said. "You'll need to light it yourself, I'm off to bed." The writing paused for a moment, then continued. I collapsed into bed like a sack of carrots, but I could not sleep. My energy still hadn’t been exhausted, but what more could I do? Nothing, until tomorrow. Then I would whip that insolent filly into shape. I thought about it all night; about why she was here and why I had been entrusted with her. The Princess could have made any number of arrangements, Ponyville had many bed and breakfasts, inns, just downright friendly ponies willing to house a young mare. But she chose me for a reason. I did not know the Princess. Nobody did. But she was an enduring leader, and enduring leaders don’t endure by keeping ponies like Aurora in their camp. All the same, such talent and magical proclivity… It would be a waste to discard that over a simple issue of temperament. I heard dripping and the wet splat of hooves on my wooden floor. The hoofsteps disappeared downstairs. I closed my eyes and let the silence carry me to sleep. The next time I opened them it was morning. My eyes were pried open by a scream that could curdle milk. Hooves were being stomped and the scream turned into a hysterical shudder. I ripped myself from bed and galloped into the hall, Aurora was grimacing at the door of her room in a frenzied dance. “What on earth is the matter!?” “A vampire is trying to break in!” she said, pointing into her bedroom. I frowned, my muscles relaxed. The tension in my brow remained. My reaction must have relieved some stress in Aurora too- or at least confused her enough to forget her urgency- because by the time I pressed the door open she had stopped stomping her hooves. “Get away from the window,” I yelled. “How many times do I need to tell you?” There was a pony on the other face of the window miming at me. I threw the window open. “Thorry to vithit tho early, Admiral!” she said. Her fangs were hooked over her lip and every word gave way to a shower of saliva. “That wasn’t even the right window.” “I thaw thomepony in here!” She said, pointing toward Aurora. “I’m Batterfly, nithe to meet you!” She turned to me and shot a sly wink. I shook my head disapprovingly. “Somepony ought to teach you some manners,” Aurora said. “It’s six o’ clock!” Batterfly looked around the room in wonderment. I looked to see what she was gawking at, and realised that every shelf and cabinet in the room had become a seat for some kind of magical utensil. A system of beakers and tubes had been arranged on the coffer, a peculiar timepiece rotating within a cubic square sat on the bedside cabinet. The drawers had been pulled out into tiers to make room for an elaborate device which seemed to be giving readings – what for I had no idea. At the very bottom of the cabinet was a pile of gold and jewels. Batterfly was eyeing those in particular. “Should you be leaving those around?” I asked. “It’s for my dragon,” she said, so matter-of-factly. “Oh, I see.” “Your dragon?” Batterfly repeated in a wonderous shock that snapped me back to my senses. “A dragon!?” I repeated yet again. “Princess Celestia said nothing about a dragon! I refuse to house such a beast.” “It’s just a baby dragon,” she shrugged, trotting toward the door. Batterfly followed. “It can barely breathe fire.” “And my home is made of… oh, I don’t know, at least one-quarter straw? The rest being wood?” “If anything happens to your home – and it won’t – rest assured that Celestia will recompense all damages!” “Ith anypony hungry?” Batterfly interjected, which startled Aurora so much she'd almost stumbled down the stairs. “Who are you again?” Aurora asked. “Like, a marefriend or a… gifted little sister?” “We can talk about her later,” I said just as we reached the foyer. “She’s very busy today. You were just leaving, weren’t you?” I darted my eyes toward Batterfly. She fell back on her flank and squirmed. “Um, that’th right. I do have a lot on my plate today. But I’m altho hungry.” I swung the front door open. Batterfly stared at it vacantly, she wasn’t used to doors. So, using my magic, I grabbed her by the tail and dragged her back out into the street from where she came. I slammed the door behind her and returned to Aurora. “As I was saying, we will talk about her later.” “Are we just going to ignore the whole… bat thing?” she asked. “Yes,” I said heading into the living room. The agenda was still lying on the desk where I’d left it, neatly tied in a bundle of postal string. It levitated its way into my jacket – I had no reason to read it, I remembered every step I’d written – and tucked itself neatly into my breast pocket. “I’d like to visit the library soon,” she said. “Very well,” I said. “We need to visit Purple Prose anyway.” Aurora tilted her head. “She’s a new face. She wrote this year’s stageplay, for the story of the three pony tribes. She wrote the mayor’s speech too.” “That’s quite a diverse set of skills,” Aurora said. “Quite,” I said. “But first… are you hungry?” Underseer 2We visited a café on the east side of town, the same side which my home lay. The harsh winter snow brought Aurora inside. There’s always been something about the comfort of warmth which has irked me. A familiar scent in the air, hot soup in my stomach, a pretty filly sitting before me… The feeling – in this moment – that none of my burgeoning duties mattered and the temptation to stay this way forever; it was repulsive. Aurora sat wordlessly in front of a steaming cup. She just wrote. It reminded me of my navy days, before I became an admiral. They would sit you in a room and interrogate you, writing down every word you said. Only this time there was no speaking. Every so often, she’d look up from the page she’d engrossed herself in and sipped her hot water. “Enjoying that?” I asked, submerging a brick of chewy bread into my soup. “No,” Aurora said. “Breakfast is for workhorses. A studious mind requires something more… mentally nutritional.” “Which is hot water?” “Yes,” she said, reaching the end of her page. I could see her script becoming smaller as she struggled with the space she’d left herself. Her eyes returned to me frankly. “Purple Prose? Tell me what she’s like.” “Smart,” I began. “Er, purple. What is it you’re writing exactly?” “A report, the Princess insisted on it. Though I’ll need more paper.” She guzzled down the last of her hot water and stared at my soup impatiently. “By the way, we’ll need to pick up my dragon at the post office. He should be here by noon.” “Now young filly, I never agree-” “If you responded to Princess Celestia, perhaps she would have told you the precise terms of my stay. What right have you now to refuse?” I dunked my bread bitterly into my seaweed bisque. There was no arguing with this pony, no arguing at all. Still, I remained curious about this report of hers. What did she have to report on? She barely just arrived. To be frank, our visit at the café was unbearable. The last of my soup I did not enjoy, but hurrying it into me was preferable to Aurora’s silence. I led her to the centre of town, which was lit up wonderfully in the blue winter air. My navy jacket offered me warmth from the snow, though Aurora – despite her pink coat being bare – seemed unmoved by the cold. She breathed a sigh of relief however as we approached the large, hollow tree. Its branches were bare. I trotted in front of Aurora before she could stroll in unannounced. It was still early in the morning even by the time we’d finished our breakfast. Prose did not answer. Instead, the door opened to a colt I’d quite recognised with his creamy coat and purplish black mane. He glared at me with his usual contemptuous glare, which buckled somewhat as he noticed Aurora. His brow perked upward. “I thought that boat had sailed for you Admiral,” said Inkcap. “This is Aurora Star, she’s staying with me while she’s in Ponyville. She’ll be overseeing our preparations.” Inkcap’s brow sunk back over his eyes. “Is Prose awake?” I asked, peering over behind him. “She hasn’t not been awake!” said Inkcap. “Poor filly’s been up all night revising that ridiculous speech. Brought me over for… social inspiration. Whatever that means.” “Being alone with one’s thoughts certainly degrades the mind,” I said. “Let us in. It’s freezing out here.” Inkcap dragged the door wide open and I brought Aurora inside. I heard the scratching of pen on paper, but I saw nopony besides the three of us. My head followed the sound yet I saw nothing but shelves upon shelves of books. Inkcap pointed a hoof upward, toward one of the alcoves carved into the wall. Lying beside a window with a quill in her mouth was Purple Prose. The warm morning sun highlighted the bags under her eyes, hidden between her straight, red umber mane. “Good morning, Prose!” I said. As she turned to face me, her eyes lagged behind her head. She gave a laboured smile. “Morning Admiral,” she yawned. There were no ladders up to her alcove, nor did she seem at all intent on getting down. “You’re up early.” “It seems we all are today,” I said, looking back at Inkcap for a moment. Aurora was already poking around the library, much to Inkcap’s annoyance. He despised ponies moving around like flies and Aurora was making herself quite at home. She retrieved some paper from the table in the centre of the room. I cleared my throat. “Erm… Prose, this is Aurora Star.” “Yes, I heard you at the door. Oh, Sea Fair… Is this really necessary?” Her head rested over the ledge of her alcove. She stared down at us all lazily, swinging her head back and forth. “… Yes, it is,” I said glancing at the disengaged Aurora. She had already resumed her writing. Inkcap was inching toward the door. “Aurora..?” “Yes, yes…” she said, licking the nib of her quill. Her head spun to face Prose. “It’s quite late to be doing revisions, isn’t it?” “I… er,” “Believe me, it happens every year,” I interrupted. “The mayor is a hard stallion to work around.” “Very hard,” blurted Prose. “And very… intolerable of my jokes.” I let out a sigh that was quite a bit more audible than I wanted. This caught the attention of Aurora, who immediately and hastily began to take something down. “Can I hear this speech you’re writing?” she asked. Prose shrunk back into her alcove. “It’s really just a draft at the moment…” Aurora shot Prose a sharp glare. Sharp enough to tear every book standing between the two ponies to ribbons. A glare that was then forwarded to me. Wordlessly, Aurora’s horn lit up dimly and before she knew it, the draft sitting between Prose’s hooves had been snatched away from her. Aurora’s razor-sharp eyes scanned the page. Her intense expression did not fade, if anything it had only gotten worse, shrivelling like a grape to raisin. “Fillies and gentlecolts… ugh.” Aurora read the whole thing up and down in puzzlement. “I’m honoured to be giving this speech today… Is that necessary?” She continued reading, her eyes scanning left and right frantically. “First, I’d like to thank the…” Aurora stomped the page under her hoof onto the table. Her eyes had shut in agitation. She took a deep breath, quill sweeping around the air in front of her before pressing against her report. Prose looked at me meekly. I shook my head. “Aurora, I think in the interest of being an effective overseer, communication would be key.” She silently continued her report until punctuating the thing with a vicious stab. She glared up at me with her lazy, empty eyes. “Where do I even begin? This entire speech is two pages – front and back – andhalfof that precious space is occupied with… petty congratulations!” Aurora stood from the table with the speech in her grasp. She was waving it around, now facing Prose. “Sweet apple acres I assume is an orchard?” “Yes…” Prose said slowly, as if trying to follow Aurora’s wild trajectory. “Thenwhyare they being congratulated for record apple production? Its their job!” She trotted toward me and shoved the page into my face, throwing a hoof under one line in particular. “Ahem, ‘I’d like to thank the Cobblestone rock farm for their contribution to Ponyville’s developmental efforts’? What does any of this have to do with Hearth’s Warming? “I admit, it does seem a little distracted.” I looked at the rest of the speech for a moment and witnessed some familiar clichés about harmony. “Really though, it’s only a speech. They rarely are spectacular.” “Hearth’s Warming is about appreciation!” said Prose, standing to attention. The alcove’s roof was so low that she immediately bumped her head. “Ow…” “Too specific, too long…” Aurora said conclusively. Her horn lit up brilliantly, and in a flash of light the paper was reduced to cinders. “Do it over, more concise this time. And I will be having a look at this play of yours.” Prose’s face quivered. She sat back down in her little nook. Aurora trotted off deeper into the library, down to the basement. She took her report with her. I clutched a ladder and spun it around the wall of the library, beneath Prose’s little recess. She shook her head. “She’s right, Sea Fair. Maybe I need a little sleep.” She trotted off to another winding tunnel within the tree and I followed. “I don’t think Inkcap likes her.” “I never thought he would,” I said. “I have a long day ahead of me, it would have been nice to… Oh, nevermind. I suppose he wandered off.” “Don’t take it personally, we were in words before you arrived.” She lead me to a sleeping chamber in the tree and very suddenly I felt like an intruder. “Words? Er… Should I be here?” “I don’t mind,” she said. “I won’t be sleeping anyway, not until that filly of yours finds what she’s looking for.” “Yes…” I pulled the agenda from my pocket and held it in front of me. “You know, I arranged to come see you in the morning because I thought you two would be fast friends. I suppose I don’t know you as well as I think, eh?” “No, not well at all,” Prose chuckled. “Let me guess – Batterfly last?” “That was the plan. You little ponies have a way of spoiling any plans I make, I woke up to that fanged menace knocking on my window yet again. The guest bedroom.” Prose erupted into laughter, doubling over onto the bed she’d settled herself on. I could see her picturing the image in her head as I described it. The laughter settled into an efervescente giggle from which she found difficult to recover. “That is perfect! Hm hm hehehe…” She laid down and rested her eyes, but any time she became a bit too peaceful, another fit of humming laughter quietly escaped. “Has she had a chance to see your handiwork? I’d be very surprised if she found something to complain about, ha ha ha!” “You’re too kind,” I said, planting my flank on the floor. Celestia knows how long Aurora would take, so I may as well have taken advantage of Prose’s hospitality. “No, she hasn’t. First up is Angel Dove.” The periodic giggling immediately halted. Prose’s head perked up from the frame of her bed. In that moment, I heard footsteps approaching from the stairs. Aurora came stomping in with a beltful of books hanging between her teeth. “There you are!” she said, dropping the volumes at her hooves. “I’d like to lease these, please.”
PrologueIt’s just pageantry, I reminded myself. Rehearsal for pageantry. Nevertheless, as I stared into the mirror and examined a colt in distinguished naval fineries, an immense feeling of pride began to balloon in my chest. A tear threatened escape. I turned my attention to a nearby window and studied the bustling square below. Ponyville was always teeming with activity around this time of year, just one week until the Hearth’s Warming Celebration. Just one week and they would be enjoying my handiwork. I was not nervous. I had become quite used to the routine. I had become quite talented at my duty. I descended into the town hall’s auditorium. It was nearly as busy as the streets, full of ponies toiling to realise my vision. The usual banners had been replaced for the week with some romantic interpretation of the ancient pony tribes; the proud profile of a unicorn surrounded by flawless jewels, the wings of a pegasus against a starry night, and a quartet of sequential art representing the earth ponies’ harvest. The rest of the wall was draped in rich, red velvet and accented by blue ribbons. Quite a bright blue, I noted. I took my place in a small booth full of likewise retired ponies of honour. I knew none of them very well, only for their names. Rapier Riposte was an old captain of the Royal Guard and an earth pony. He made for terrible conversation, but was an excellent disciplinarian if the stories are to be believed. Directly in front of me was a mare by the name of Mistral Wind, a representative of Cloudsdale’s aerial forces. As the curtains drew over the auditorium’s large overhead windows, a quick hush overcame the building. Soon, a single beam illuminated the stage and from it stepped a pony long and grey of mane. He approached the podium and drew from his waistcoat’s pocket a deck of cards. He began studying them as he recited- in quite a stressed voice: “Hearth’s Warming Eve… Let’s see,” he fumbled with the cards. A few fell to the podium and he retrieved one at random to read aloud. “When the three pony tribes… no, that’s not right. I’ve gone too far.” The Mayor’s monotony became white noise as a rustling sound crept from behind me. A sound if- were I not so bored- may have been imperceptible. A hoof perched itself on my shoulder and a soft voice soon followed. “Enjoying the rehearsal, Admiral Sea Fair?” I stirred from a slouch I hadn’t entirely realised I entered. I looked behind me and saw the all-too-familiar face of Angel Dove. “Quite,” I replied sternly. “This booth isn’t meant for civilians, filly.” She forced an indolent, hummed laugh. “You’re a civilian, Admiral.” I held my tongue and returned to the drone of the mayor’s speech, but Angel Dove wasn’t satisfied. I now felt a fluttering at my cheek, the fluttering of paper. “A letter came in the fire,” she said through her teeth. Between them was a tan scroll. I took it in the grasp of my magic and held it before me. Sure enough, I was the addressee. “It’s important to remember the people closest to us, and thank them for all they’ve done. To know that they’re loved and er… Was that before or after the uh…” “Your fire?” I inquired. “Heavens no!” Angel Dove rested into an elegant, relaxed perch. Her delicate pink mane bobbed as she contacted the floor. “The mayor’s. It seems whoever is writing knows you haven’t been spending very much time at home.” Examining the seal, it bore the emblem of the Princess. Curious beyond belief, I hesitantly tore the seal apart and unravelled the script. The penmanship was beautiful. Dear Admiral Sea Fair, I hope this season is treating you well. I am writing to congratulate you on your sixth year in a row managing the decoration of town hall for the Hearth’s Warming celebration. I hope this year will be as successful as all the last. I know my role in the festivities tends to be one of distant and fond regard, but I feel that same approach would hardly be appropriate with all the work and care you all put in every year. So I have parted with one of my most loyal and gifted students in order to keep a close eye on things in my stead. Her name is Aurora Star, and I have a feeling you both will be close friends. I realise that given your naval career, you have taken to guiding your fellow organisers yourself. I assure you, my protégé will not order or command and she will not tell you how to do your job. Her role is simply that of a director, to bind you all together in the true spirit of Hearth’s Warming Day; camaraderie. One more thing- and I ask this of you with all the gratitude in Equestria and beyond- Aurora has been granted accommodations in town hall which for the time being have been made unavailable. I understand you have been granted your own very large home in Ponyville with more than enough room to house a young filly. I assure you, she needs little room to herself. But living in Canterlot for so long has left her with certain expectations. I understand if I am asking for too much, please write back as soon as possible if this cannot be done and I will make other plans for her. She leaves in two weeks. Oh, and please do make her feel welcome. She will need time to adjust to life in Ponyville and get to know her fellow event organisers. Yours dutifully and eternally, Her Majesty Princess Celestia. “Two weeks?” I asked, hovering the letter over to Angel Dove. “In two weeks Hearth’s Warming Day will have come and gone!” “Yes…” said Angel sheepishly. “You would be right, only that letter arrived about… two weeks ago exactly.” I snapped to face Angel Dove. I couldn’t see my face of course, but I had a strong feeling it was one that could kill. She was suddenly preening her wings as if she had been occupied the whole time. “I’m not the paper colt!” she said shrilly. “It’s not my fault it got lost in the Mayor’s office.” “I can’t house this filly! What do you think I am?” I was trying my best to muster a hushed yell without disturbing the rehearsal. “You can’t not,” Angel riposted. “These are direct orders from the Princess herself! You had two weeks to refuse.” She was waving the letter around in her mouth. I sighed and wrested the paper from her teeth. My tired gaze returned to the mayor, who was becoming exhausted with his prepared speech. “In short, er… It is harmony that makes us stronger. And because of that, we… celebrate harmony… today.”
Underseer 1“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?” My legs were sore and sluggish. I saw the mare long before I’d gotten anywhere near my home. It seemed she was waiting for me to come within earshot. I did not acknowledge her question. Simply, I unlocked the door and pushed myself through. Inside was draughty and eerily silent. In the foyer hung an unlit chandelier which had gathered a small cobweb. I heard the sound of luggage being shuffled across the floor, then the door shut behind me. “The Princess was expecting a response,” said Aurora. I faced her with heavy eyes. “Had the Princess received a response you wouldn’t be here right now.” She began trotting around the foyer, wrinkling her muzzle at the dust and the arid smell. She discarded a huge brown trunk at the foot of my stairs and sighed. “I will need a study, preferably one within my bedroom.” She peeked her head around the living room door and regarded the large bookshelf. “Is there a library in this town?” “Of course there is,” I said. “Golden Oak, its in the middle of town. I will take you if you like.” “Tomorrow,” she said. “I hope my room is ready, I’ve been travelling all day.” “How taxing,” I said. I shuffled up the stairs, and as I reached the top I noticed Aurora still standing there in the foyer. She looked at her luggage. “You don’t expect me to drag this all the way up there, do you?” “Ms. I assure you, if you were anything but a talented unicorn…” Her eyebrows sunk and her horn lit up in a yellow glow. She followed me up to the second floor, baggage in tow and I led her to her room. She was- quite stupidly- disappointed to see it just as unkept as the rest of the house. She dumped her trunk onto the bed and aroused a blizzard of dust. She began choking. Stoically, I tried my best not to inhale the dust or at least not react to it. “Don’t you have a maid!?” “If you’d like, I’d pay you to keep the house during your stay.” “As if,” she said as the dust settled. There was a slight flavour of caution in her voice, as if any sound too loud may provoke it again. “I will be far too busy in my duties.” “Your duties,” I repeated. “Have you organised an event like this before?” “It won’t be difficult. I only need to make sure you’re all doing your jobs.” “There’s more to it than that. It takes coordination, guidance-” “I hope you would all be competent enough by now not to need guidance.” She was unpacking her luggage now. Every drawer in the room was empty, save for whatever pests might have taken lease, so her possessions effortlessly danced in the air before resting into its natural place in the room. By the end of it all, the room felt denser. Even our voices became much less reverberant. “I wish it were that easy. We have a number of new faces to the event this year.” “Hah!” There was a sudden and quite unnerving song in her tone. “That explains it then. The Princess knows a disaster-in-waiting when she sees one. That’s why I’m here.” “No,” I said stolidly. Though it certainly felt more likely. “And if that were the case, I sense she would send somepony more… qualified.” “Qualified? Mr…” “Sea Fair. Admiral.” “Mr. Sea Fair, I am no stock and ditzy coed. I am Princess Celestia’s favourite, most accomplished and most trusted student. Do you have any idea what that means?” “I did not mean to offend. Just… have you considered that perhaps your presence here is meant more as a learning experience?” Aurora simply laughed- rather a sharp hum than a laugh. A fluffy blue robe came from her trunk and it wrapped itself around her shoulders. “I’d like to be left alone, please. You may run me a bath.” “Very well. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, Ms.” I trotted toward the door and began to shut it behind myself. “Goodnight.” The exchange was- with no concern shown for manners- exhausting. Yet despite this, I found an energy within me which hadn’t quite been there since this morning to be reignited. Passing the bathroom, I took myself to the living room where there was a small study and plenty of parchment to get to work with it. I spread the creamy paper across the desk’s surface and pressed against it a wet quill. By the end of the night I had written an agenda; of all the ponies we'd need to visit the next morning and in order of... difficulty. I sensed that Aurora would get along well with Angel Dove and possibly Purple Prose, so I slotted them into the early morning and left the other two to last. In the mid-day I would give her the opportunity to oversee my decorations. Feeling optimistic for the day to come, I pridefully rolled the agenda up with a knot of twine and left it on the desk. I headed for bed, it was the first time in days I'd be sleeping there. The draught upstairs had been tempered somewhat by the hot steam of a bath. I heard the scratching of a metal nib on paper. Aurora called out, "Can I use your fireplace, Mr. Sea Fair?" "Its in the living room," I said. "You'll need to light it yourself, I'm off to bed." The writing paused for a moment, then continued. I collapsed into bed like a sack of carrots, but I could not sleep. My energy still hadn’t been exhausted, but what more could I do? Nothing, until tomorrow. Then I would whip that insolent filly into shape. I thought about it all night; about why she was here and why I had been entrusted with her. The Princess could have made any number of arrangements, Ponyville had many bed and breakfasts, inns, just downright friendly ponies willing to house a young mare. But she chose me for a reason. I did not know the Princess. Nobody did. But she was an enduring leader, and enduring leaders don’t endure by keeping ponies like Aurora in their camp. All the same, such talent and magical proclivity… It would be a waste to discard that over a simple issue of temperament. I heard dripping and the wet splat of hooves on my wooden floor. The hoofsteps disappeared downstairs. I closed my eyes and let the silence carry me to sleep. The next time I opened them it was morning. My eyes were pried open by a scream that could curdle milk. Hooves were being stomped and the scream turned into a hysterical shudder. I ripped myself from bed and galloped into the hall, Aurora was grimacing at the door of her room in a frenzied dance. “What on earth is the matter!?” “A vampire is trying to break in!” she said, pointing into her bedroom. I frowned, my muscles relaxed. The tension in my brow remained. My reaction must have relieved some stress in Aurora too- or at least confused her enough to forget her urgency- because by the time I pressed the door open she had stopped stomping her hooves. “Get away from the window,” I yelled. “How many times do I need to tell you?” There was a pony on the other face of the window miming at me. I threw the window open. “Thorry to vithit tho early, Admiral!” she said. Her fangs were hooked over her lip and every word gave way to a shower of saliva. “That wasn’t even the right window.” “I thaw thomepony in here!” She said, pointing toward Aurora. “I’m Batterfly, nithe to meet you!” She turned to me and shot a sly wink. I shook my head disapprovingly. “Somepony ought to teach you some manners,” Aurora said. “It’s six o’ clock!” Batterfly looked around the room in wonderment. I looked to see what she was gawking at, and realised that every shelf and cabinet in the room had become a seat for some kind of magical utensil. A system of beakers and tubes had been arranged on the coffer, a peculiar timepiece rotating within a cubic square sat on the bedside cabinet. The drawers had been pulled out into tiers to make room for an elaborate device which seemed to be giving readings – what for I had no idea. At the very bottom of the cabinet was a pile of gold and jewels. Batterfly was eyeing those in particular. “Should you be leaving those around?” I asked. “It’s for my dragon,” she said, so matter-of-factly. “Oh, I see.” “Your dragon?” Batterfly repeated in a wonderous shock that snapped me back to my senses. “A dragon!?” I repeated yet again. “Princess Celestia said nothing about a dragon! I refuse to house such a beast.” “It’s just a baby dragon,” she shrugged, trotting toward the door. Batterfly followed. “It can barely breathe fire.” “And my home is made of… oh, I don’t know, at least one-quarter straw? The rest being wood?” “If anything happens to your home – and it won’t – rest assured that Celestia will recompense all damages!” “Ith anypony hungry?” Batterfly interjected, which startled Aurora so much she'd almost stumbled down the stairs. “Who are you again?” Aurora asked. “Like, a marefriend or a… gifted little sister?” “We can talk about her later,” I said just as we reached the foyer. “She’s very busy today. You were just leaving, weren’t you?” I darted my eyes toward Batterfly. She fell back on her flank and squirmed. “Um, that’th right. I do have a lot on my plate today. But I’m altho hungry.” I swung the front door open. Batterfly stared at it vacantly, she wasn’t used to doors. So, using my magic, I grabbed her by the tail and dragged her back out into the street from where she came. I slammed the door behind her and returned to Aurora. “As I was saying, we will talk about her later.” “Are we just going to ignore the whole… bat thing?” she asked. “Yes,” I said heading into the living room. The agenda was still lying on the desk where I’d left it, neatly tied in a bundle of postal string. It levitated its way into my jacket – I had no reason to read it, I remembered every step I’d written – and tucked itself neatly into my breast pocket. “I’d like to visit the library soon,” she said. “Very well,” I said. “We need to visit Purple Prose anyway.” Aurora tilted her head. “She’s a new face. She wrote this year’s stageplay, for the story of the three pony tribes. She wrote the mayor’s speech too.” “That’s quite a diverse set of skills,” Aurora said. “Quite,” I said. “But first… are you hungry?”
Underseer 2We visited a café on the east side of town, the same side which my home lay. The harsh winter snow brought Aurora inside. There’s always been something about the comfort of warmth which has irked me. A familiar scent in the air, hot soup in my stomach, a pretty filly sitting before me… The feeling – in this moment – that none of my burgeoning duties mattered and the temptation to stay this way forever; it was repulsive. Aurora sat wordlessly in front of a steaming cup. She just wrote. It reminded me of my navy days, before I became an admiral. They would sit you in a room and interrogate you, writing down every word you said. Only this time there was no speaking. Every so often, she’d look up from the page she’d engrossed herself in and sipped her hot water. “Enjoying that?” I asked, submerging a brick of chewy bread into my soup. “No,” Aurora said. “Breakfast is for workhorses. A studious mind requires something more… mentally nutritional.” “Which is hot water?” “Yes,” she said, reaching the end of her page. I could see her script becoming smaller as she struggled with the space she’d left herself. Her eyes returned to me frankly. “Purple Prose? Tell me what she’s like.” “Smart,” I began. “Er, purple. What is it you’re writing exactly?” “A report, the Princess insisted on it. Though I’ll need more paper.” She guzzled down the last of her hot water and stared at my soup impatiently. “By the way, we’ll need to pick up my dragon at the post office. He should be here by noon.” “Now young filly, I never agree-” “If you responded to Princess Celestia, perhaps she would have told you the precise terms of my stay. What right have you now to refuse?” I dunked my bread bitterly into my seaweed bisque. There was no arguing with this pony, no arguing at all. Still, I remained curious about this report of hers. What did she have to report on? She barely just arrived. To be frank, our visit at the café was unbearable. The last of my soup I did not enjoy, but hurrying it into me was preferable to Aurora’s silence. I led her to the centre of town, which was lit up wonderfully in the blue winter air. My navy jacket offered me warmth from the snow, though Aurora – despite her pink coat being bare – seemed unmoved by the cold. She breathed a sigh of relief however as we approached the large, hollow tree. Its branches were bare. I trotted in front of Aurora before she could stroll in unannounced. It was still early in the morning even by the time we’d finished our breakfast. Prose did not answer. Instead, the door opened to a colt I’d quite recognised with his creamy coat and purplish black mane. He glared at me with his usual contemptuous glare, which buckled somewhat as he noticed Aurora. His brow perked upward. “I thought that boat had sailed for you Admiral,” said Inkcap. “This is Aurora Star, she’s staying with me while she’s in Ponyville. She’ll be overseeing our preparations.” Inkcap’s brow sunk back over his eyes. “Is Prose awake?” I asked, peering over behind him. “She hasn’t not been awake!” said Inkcap. “Poor filly’s been up all night revising that ridiculous speech. Brought me over for… social inspiration. Whatever that means.” “Being alone with one’s thoughts certainly degrades the mind,” I said. “Let us in. It’s freezing out here.” Inkcap dragged the door wide open and I brought Aurora inside. I heard the scratching of pen on paper, but I saw nopony besides the three of us. My head followed the sound yet I saw nothing but shelves upon shelves of books. Inkcap pointed a hoof upward, toward one of the alcoves carved into the wall. Lying beside a window with a quill in her mouth was Purple Prose. The warm morning sun highlighted the bags under her eyes, hidden between her straight, red umber mane. “Good morning, Prose!” I said. As she turned to face me, her eyes lagged behind her head. She gave a laboured smile. “Morning Admiral,” she yawned. There were no ladders up to her alcove, nor did she seem at all intent on getting down. “You’re up early.” “It seems we all are today,” I said, looking back at Inkcap for a moment. Aurora was already poking around the library, much to Inkcap’s annoyance. He despised ponies moving around like flies and Aurora was making herself quite at home. She retrieved some paper from the table in the centre of the room. I cleared my throat. “Erm… Prose, this is Aurora Star.” “Yes, I heard you at the door. Oh, Sea Fair… Is this really necessary?” Her head rested over the ledge of her alcove. She stared down at us all lazily, swinging her head back and forth. “… Yes, it is,” I said glancing at the disengaged Aurora. She had already resumed her writing. Inkcap was inching toward the door. “Aurora..?” “Yes, yes…” she said, licking the nib of her quill. Her head spun to face Prose. “It’s quite late to be doing revisions, isn’t it?” “I… er,” “Believe me, it happens every year,” I interrupted. “The mayor is a hard stallion to work around.” “Very hard,” blurted Prose. “And very… intolerable of my jokes.” I let out a sigh that was quite a bit more audible than I wanted. This caught the attention of Aurora, who immediately and hastily began to take something down. “Can I hear this speech you’re writing?” she asked. Prose shrunk back into her alcove. “It’s really just a draft at the moment…” Aurora shot Prose a sharp glare. Sharp enough to tear every book standing between the two ponies to ribbons. A glare that was then forwarded to me. Wordlessly, Aurora’s horn lit up dimly and before she knew it, the draft sitting between Prose’s hooves had been snatched away from her. Aurora’s razor-sharp eyes scanned the page. Her intense expression did not fade, if anything it had only gotten worse, shrivelling like a grape to raisin. “Fillies and gentlecolts… ugh.” Aurora read the whole thing up and down in puzzlement. “I’m honoured to be giving this speech today… Is that necessary?” She continued reading, her eyes scanning left and right frantically. “First, I’d like to thank the…” Aurora stomped the page under her hoof onto the table. Her eyes had shut in agitation. She took a deep breath, quill sweeping around the air in front of her before pressing against her report. Prose looked at me meekly. I shook my head. “Aurora, I think in the interest of being an effective overseer, communication would be key.” She silently continued her report until punctuating the thing with a vicious stab. She glared up at me with her lazy, empty eyes. “Where do I even begin? This entire speech is two pages – front and back – andhalfof that precious space is occupied with… petty congratulations!” Aurora stood from the table with the speech in her grasp. She was waving it around, now facing Prose. “Sweet apple acres I assume is an orchard?” “Yes…” Prose said slowly, as if trying to follow Aurora’s wild trajectory. “Thenwhyare they being congratulated for record apple production? Its their job!” She trotted toward me and shoved the page into my face, throwing a hoof under one line in particular. “Ahem, ‘I’d like to thank the Cobblestone rock farm for their contribution to Ponyville’s developmental efforts’? What does any of this have to do with Hearth’s Warming? “I admit, it does seem a little distracted.” I looked at the rest of the speech for a moment and witnessed some familiar clichés about harmony. “Really though, it’s only a speech. They rarely are spectacular.” “Hearth’s Warming is about appreciation!” said Prose, standing to attention. The alcove’s roof was so low that she immediately bumped her head. “Ow…” “Too specific, too long…” Aurora said conclusively. Her horn lit up brilliantly, and in a flash of light the paper was reduced to cinders. “Do it over, more concise this time. And I will be having a look at this play of yours.” Prose’s face quivered. She sat back down in her little nook. Aurora trotted off deeper into the library, down to the basement. She took her report with her. I clutched a ladder and spun it around the wall of the library, beneath Prose’s little recess. She shook her head. “She’s right, Sea Fair. Maybe I need a little sleep.” She trotted off to another winding tunnel within the tree and I followed. “I don’t think Inkcap likes her.” “I never thought he would,” I said. “I have a long day ahead of me, it would have been nice to… Oh, nevermind. I suppose he wandered off.” “Don’t take it personally, we were in words before you arrived.” She lead me to a sleeping chamber in the tree and very suddenly I felt like an intruder. “Words? Er… Should I be here?” “I don’t mind,” she said. “I won’t be sleeping anyway, not until that filly of yours finds what she’s looking for.” “Yes…” I pulled the agenda from my pocket and held it in front of me. “You know, I arranged to come see you in the morning because I thought you two would be fast friends. I suppose I don’t know you as well as I think, eh?” “No, not well at all,” Prose chuckled. “Let me guess – Batterfly last?” “That was the plan. You little ponies have a way of spoiling any plans I make, I woke up to that fanged menace knocking on my window yet again. The guest bedroom.” Prose erupted into laughter, doubling over onto the bed she’d settled herself on. I could see her picturing the image in her head as I described it. The laughter settled into an efervescente giggle from which she found difficult to recover. “That is perfect! Hm hm hehehe…” She laid down and rested her eyes, but any time she became a bit too peaceful, another fit of humming laughter quietly escaped. “Has she had a chance to see your handiwork? I’d be very surprised if she found something to complain about, ha ha ha!” “You’re too kind,” I said, planting my flank on the floor. Celestia knows how long Aurora would take, so I may as well have taken advantage of Prose’s hospitality. “No, she hasn’t. First up is Angel Dove.” The periodic giggling immediately halted. Prose’s head perked up from the frame of her bed. In that moment, I heard footsteps approaching from the stairs. Aurora came stomping in with a beltful of books hanging between her teeth. “There you are!” she said, dropping the volumes at her hooves. “I’d like to lease these, please.”
