Brave New World

Chapters

I. The Rach'thar
II. Druthi
III. Church and State

I. The Rach'thar

Twilight jolted into consciousness, coughing and sputtering, panic taking control of her body. She rolled over, her gag reflex pulling fluid from her stomach and lungs and pushing it through her lips. She had only been to the ocean once as a filly, but she remembered what seawater tasted like; what had just come out of her was definitely that. She coughed and coughed, hacking and wheezing until her chest burned and her jaw was sore, but the feeling in the back of her throat that told her she had fluid in her lungs wouldn’t go away.

Her brain ached as it grasped wildly for an explanation. She tried to remember what she had been doing, but a thick fog had blanketed her mind. She could remember her friends, her life in Ponyville, but it all seemed out of order. It was like her memories were a tangled mess of barbed wire that she was unable to sort out.

The acidic sensation coating her mouth, throat, and sinuses brought tears to her eyes and obscured her vision of her surroundings. All she could see was the bright light emanating from high above and the indistinct forms standing in a semicircle around her. The light was cold, despite its brightness, and Twilight shivered as a frigid breeze blew across her drenched coat. The cold metal she was lying on didn’t help, either. The ground seemed to be lurching, shifting back and forth with a gentle, steady rhythm.

“Ichen, siy udro kan!”

The stallion’s voice came from directly in front of Twilight. She blinked the tears from her eyes and squinted to see the pony who had spoken, but only the vague outline was visible in the shadows. For an instant, Twilight had the absurd notion that she was talking to a ghost.

“Hello?” Twilight asked, wincing. Her voice was weak and hoarse and talking was like pouring burning sand down her throat.

The shadow started and took a step back when Twilight spoke, and it was then that she saw the others. There were two shadows standing on either side of the one in the middle, and the silhouettes of others appeared behind them. Twilight tried to move, to get up, but her muscles wouldn’t cooperate.

“Ichen, siy udro kan!”

The pony sounded more forceful this time. He took a step toward the defined edge where the illumination ended and the shadows began. Twilight could make out some extra bulk around his hoof, but it was as indistinct as the rest of him.

Twilight rolled over, groaning with the effort, and got herself onto her belly. She remained there, panting, as sweat started to form on her coat, mingling with the seawater. Spots danced in her vision, stars and other shapes swimming in a blurry soup, but she clenched her eyes tight and shook off the dizzy spell. With a deep breath and an enormous effort, Twilight found herself standing, legs shaking so violently they were almost vibrating.

She peered at the shadows through the damp strands of mane that hung over her face. The ghost stallion was closer, but Twilight couldn’t have backed away even if she had wanted to. In her peripheral vision, she could see guardrails forty feet away on either side of her.

“Ichen, siy udro mala inkana!”

The light struck the stallion’s face as he stepped into the circle. He was young, younger than his voice suggested, and he had a pair of goggles hanging around his neck. His coat was an amber color, but his mane was shaved, clearly revealing the two gold rings piercing the tissue of his left ear. His face was a maelstrom of emotion; confusion, anger, and terror all resided there as he stared at Twilight. No, he wasn’t looking at Twilight—he was looking at her horn.

He stamped his hoof and Twilight found out why it had looked so bulky in the shadows. A wiry metal gauntlet made of thin interlocking wires spidered down his arm, ending in two slots on either side at the end.

“Udro mala inkana!”

His voice quivered like plucked strings on a guitar. As he said the words, he raised the gauntlet and pointed it at Twilight. He twisted his hoof and flicked a small button on the inside of the contraption, and an instant later, two foot-long blades lunged from the slot like striking cobras, coming within inches of Twilight’s snout.

Twilight lit her horn reflexively, her brain automatically cycling through self-defense spells. The color drained from the stallion’s face and his gauntleted hoof started shaking, but he didn’t back off.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Twilight said in a voice barely above a whisper. Her mind raced with possibilities for the imminent battle, her eyes darting back and forth to take in her surroundings. The spotlight above made it nearly impossible to make out anything, but then she heard the water and it all came together: the swaying, the choking on seawater, the guardrails.

She was on a boat. Even if she fought this pony, there was nowhere to go.

The stallion seemed to steel himself. “Staten!” he commanded.

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” She had to bide her time, try and find a way off of the ship.

The stallion became furious. He reared back with the gauntlet and Twilight narrowed her eyes, her horn growing brighter in preparation for a spell.

“Hadran, vease!”

It was a mare’s voice, coming from Twilight’s left. The stallion stopped and looked at where the words had come from, all the anger dissolving from his features.

Twilight stopped her spell short and followed his gaze. A mare who looked close to Twilight’s age stepped into the light. She had a pair of thick brown goggles strapped to her face, and a thin rubber half-mask hugging the sides of her head, wrapping around the bottom half of her jaw. There was what looked like a doctor’s bag next to her. Her coat was a gentle, sea-green color, and her spiky mane was a dark, almost rusty red. She bared her teeth, her face a wicked snarl. She looked up toward the spotlight.

“Dedran,” she shouted, “hur sveat in achtethwe tob!” She made a circle in the air with her hoof. “Illu dea!”

The spotlight shut off moments later, casting the ponies in shadow save for the moon and the starlight. Lights mounted to the guardrails flashed on all around, bathing the deck of the ship in a pale luminescence.

The deck was mostly clear, save for a few crates here and there. There was a structure toward the middle that the group of ponies was standing in front of, and it had two large metal cargo doors on the front. There was a crane extending up from one side of the structure, and Twilight could now see the spotlight hanging from the crane and the pony standing behind that light. He had his hooves on a console covered in red buttons and silver levers, but it looked rusty. Now that she looked around, Twilight saw that almost everything on the boat was worn down, battered, or rusting, with pieces of metal jutting out at odd angles and unsightly bulges where the bits of mismatched material met each other.

Twilight looked out over the ocean, barely able to make out the rough silhouette of land in the distance. In all other directions was the open blackness of the ocean and the star-speckled pattern of the night sky. The water slapping the side of the boat rocked it from side to side like a foal’s cradle and caused the dull sound of breaking waves to fill Twilight’s ears.

“Uh sad vease, Hadran,” the mare said to the stallion. He started to protest, but she cut him off. “Uh’ll hrandy vis, isy?” she asked. The stallion nodded his head and lowered his gauntlet, the blades retracting.

The stallion, who Twilight guessed was named Hadran, stepped back to join the other ponies, who were all regarding Twilight like she was a wild animal. Then she took herself in: she was shivering, she had strands of mane sticking to her face, and her horn was lit. Maybe a wild animal was exactly what she looked like. But why were they so afraid of her horn? Hadn’t they ever seen a unicorn before? And what language were they speaking?

The sea-green mare approached Twilight, glancing at her horn between each careful step. Twilight extinguished her horn, and the mare visibly relaxed. She stopped a few feet away, where the stallion had been standing moments before.

“Dah ud sepek Guld?” she asked. Twilight thought she spoke with the voice of a pony trying to comfort a wounded animal.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Twilight whispered.

The mare frowned. “You speak Equish?” she asked, her voice still retaining a lilting accent.

Twilight perked up. “You can understand me?”

The mare nodded.

Twilight’s mind raced with questions. Why could this mare understand her when the others couldn’t? Why had she just been pulled from the ocean? Who were these ponies who spoke a strange language and built boats out of scrap?

“Where am I?” she asked.

The mare frowned again. “You are on the Rach’thar,” she said.

That must’ve been the name of the boat. Twilight shook her head. “How did I get here?” she asked.

The mare gestured to the side of the boat. “I was returning after a dive and I saw your body in the water. I pulled you back to the boat and I went to get medical supplies.” She took a step toward Twilight. “Calm down please, you may be injured.”

Twilight sighed, her shoulders sagging. She could barely keep herself upright; maybe she should just give in.

“One more question,” she said. “I need to know where we are.”

“You are off of the coast of Druthi, in Northern Sea.” Northern sea. That explained the cold.

“Okay,” Twilight said, “and where is that in relation to Equestria?”

The mare furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, from here, what’s the fastest way back to Equestria,” Twilight said.

The mare squinted at Twilight. “Are you alright? Have you banged your head?”

“I’ll be a lot more alright when you tell me how I can get home,” Twilight said.

“And home is...”

Twilight almost cried out in frustration. “I am from Equestria! I need to go back. How do I get there?”

“No getting there,” the mare said, shaking her head. “Equestria is gone.”

That couldn’t be right. “What do you mean, ‘gone?’” Twilight asked.

“There hasn’t been a place called Equestria for two thousand years.”

Twilight fell back on her haunches. “There must be some mistake,” she whispered. “I’m from Equestria. I remember it. How could I remember it if it’s gone?”

“Please,” the mare said, once again approaching Twilight, “you are confused, and you may be hurt. Come to sick bay and I will answer your questions.”

“No!” Twilight shouted, tearing her throat. She didn’t care. “What do you mean gone? How can Equestria be gone!? I live in Equestria, in Ponyville with my friends...” She trailed off. “My friends. How can they be gone?”

The mare shook her head. Twilight just stared at her. There was no way Equestria had been gone for two thousand years. There was no way Twilight could live that long, and even if she could, wouldn’t she remember it? It seemed like her memories of Ponyville had only taken place the day before.

She looked at the crowd of ponies again, staring at her with pure terror in their eyes. Could it be true? Could she have somehow traveled two thousand years into the future?

Her head spun. The boat seemed to turn sideways and she toppled, the floor rushing up to meet her.

(*)

Twilight stretched her aching limbs, then rolled over. She pulled herself from her slumber, but visions of her bizarre dream still danced in her mind. Snippets of a large, rusty barge and ponies speaking gibberish mingled in her mind with a deep sense of worry. She creased her brow and frowned, wriggling on the mattress. Why was it so firm, so tough? And why did her pillow feel like it was made of plastic?

She cleared her throat and it felt like she was swallowing steel wool. Then all of her “dream” came flooding back to her. She bolted upright and found herself in an unfamiliar room. The walls were metal and there was a shiny silver counter jutting out from the wall on the far end, antiseptic and other medical supplies resting on top of it. Twilight was lying on what seemed like an operating table, although there was a thin mattress between her and the cold steel, and there was a coarse, plastic hospital pillow where her head had just been.

She tried to scream, to call for help, but her raw throat wouldn’t allow her voice to rise above a whisper. Even if there was somepony right outside the door who wanted to help her, they would never hear her.

She tried to stand up, but a combination of nausea, a tugging on her foreleg, and a metallic clanging stopped her. She looked down to find a shackle binding her to the side of the table. This may have been an infirmary, but Twilight was a prisoner, not a patient. She ignited her horn and engulfed the bindings in an ethereal glow, but they were bound too tightly for her to just pry off. She prodded the inside mechanism, but without intimate knowledge of how it worked, she was taking shots in the dark. The longer she prodded, the dizzier she got.

She laid back down to stop the room from spinning, staring at the ceiling. There was a single orb of light hanging from a long strand that rocked slowly back and forth with the ship. She focused on the metallic lines that snaked across the surface like strands of a spider’s web, following each one with her eyes until it either merged with other lines or ended, prompting her to find another. Soon, though, she ran out of lines and was forced to take in the whole tile, which looked to her like a scratched-up piece of sheet metal. Once she had sufficiently distracted herself from the pounding in her head and the itching in her lungs, she made a list.

She divided the list into two categories in her mind: things she knew, and questions she had. She knew she was on a boat, she knew she was being held prisoner, and she knew that she was very confused. But where was she? When was she? What had happened to her? What would her friends think had happened to her? She sighed. The questions column was significantly longer.

Her ears perked up, catching the echo of a faint metallic clanging over the soft sound of the ocean. It was coming from the direction of the door, and it was growing steadily louder. Twilight’s heart sped up, pounding in her chest as the noise grew closer and closer, coming to a stop right outside the door.

Twilight ignited her horn once again as the door swung open. A mare stepped through, and Twilight recognized her as the same mare from on the ship’s deck, minus the goggles or the mask. She had a leather bag slung over one shoulder.

The mare froze when she saw Twilight, who was tensed up and battle-ready.

“Stay right there,” Twilight demanded, but it was weak.

“Please relax,” the mare said, taking a couple steps into the room. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I said stop!” Twilight whispered as loud as she could manage. The mare stopped. Twilight needed time to think. She had to get answers. “What year is it?” she asked.

The mare sighed. “It is three thousand and two on your Equish calendar.”

“No, it can’t be,” Twilight whispered. She was only sent to Ponyville in the year one thousand. “You’re lying,” she said, looking the mare in the eye.

The other mare’s eyes were soft and gentle. “Please, you are confused. I want to help you, but you must let me.”

Twilight lifted her hoof and rattled the chain that bound her to the table. “You’re holding me prisoner. How can I believe anything you say?”

“I’m sorry, my brother insisted on the chain. He thinks you can’t be trusted.”

“I know how he feels,” Twilight said. The mare approached Twilight, who tensed up and made her horn glow brighter. Her body was too exhausted for her to get a spell off, but the mare didn’t know that.

The mare stopped, reached into her bag, and pulled out a small metal object, which Twilight recognized an instant later as a key.

“Will you let me help you?” the mare asked with a hopeful smile. Twilight regarded her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of deceit, but she only found kindness and sincerity. Then, for the briefest span of time, Twilight saw Fluttershy in that face; the same kindness, the same compassion, the same desire to help others. Twilight blinked and shook her head, clearing away the vision.

What was she doing? This mare was trying to help and Twilight was threatening her. Twilight extinguished her horn and sat back, allowing the mare to approach.

“I am Kevrana,” she said as she took the shackle in her hoof and slipped the key inside. “What’s your name?”

Kevrana turned the key and, with a soft click, the cold metal band fell away and clanged to the ground.

“Twilight,” Twilight said. She looked up at Kevrana, who was smiling at her. “I’m Twilight Sparkle.”

Kevrana bowed her head. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Twilight Sparkle.”

She walked over to the silver counter and grabbed a stethoscope, putting the rubber-capped tips in her ears and returning to Twilight.

“May I?” she asked, holding aloft the metal disc at the end of the device. With Twilight’s assent, she pressed the cold end onto Twilight’s chest, just over her heart. Every few seconds, Twilight would see Kevrana’s eyes dart to her horn before returning to her work.

“Why are you so interested in my horn?” Twilight asked. “And before, the other ponies seemed to be scared of me. Why?”

Kevrana frowned at her. “Unicorns are almost never seen outside the Vale. Are you sure your head is alright?” She reached her hoof toward Twilight’s horn, but Twilight pushed her away.

“My head is fine,” she said. “I’m not crazy. Equestria is my home, I remember it, I have friends there...” She trailed off.

Her friends. If what Kevrana said was true, everypony she held dear would be long gone. Twilight slumped back onto the pillow. How could they be gone? What would she do without them? None of her friends could have survived for that long.

Except for one.

“Where’s Princess Celestia?” Twilight asked, reaching out and grabbing Kevrana’s leg. The confused look on Kevrana’s face told her everything she needed to know.

“Who?” Kevrana asked.

Twilight sighed. “She is, or was, I guess, the princess of Equestria. She was my teacher, and I like to think she was my friend, too.” Twilight looked down. “She taught me so much; they all did.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to maintain hope that there was still a way back to her friends, back to the Equestria she knew and loved. She wouldn’t, couldn’t believe that she would never see her family, her friends, or her mentor ever again, that she was stuck on this boat, hopeless and alone.

“Don’t worry, Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “We’ll be pulling into the port of Druthi soon. Maybe you can find somepony you know there.”

Twilight wanted to scream at her, to tell her that she wasn’t listening, that Equestria couldn’t be gone, that it all had to be a mistake. Instead, she just sat, staring numbly at the metallic walls. Eventually, Kevrana sat beside Twilight and put her foreleg around her.

“I promise,” Kevrana said, smiling and looking into Twilight’s eyes, “I will do all I can to get you home.”

Twilight smiled back. “Thank you, Kevrana,” she said. “I hope the things you’ve told me about Equestria aren’t true, but still, thank you.”

Kevrana smiled. “I’m happy to help, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Please, call me Twilight,” Twilight said, wiping the last of her tears away.

“Alright, Twilight,” she said with a slight nod.

Kevrana got up from the table and Twilight laid back down, exhausted from her lament, her eyelids drooping as she fought to stay awake.

“You need rest, Twilight,” Kevrana said.

Twilight nodded. Her last sight before her eyelids closed was Kevrana settling into the cushion by the door to keep watch over her patient.

(*)

Twilight’s ears were awake before her eyes. She heard a hushed argument coming from somewhere near the door.

“Nud, alvon greteya ichthalma Druthi haerveya eeve.” Twilight recognized that voice as belonging to the pony from on deck, Hadran.

“Ese fruni, Hadran. Ese infirmy, an conteya fej eeve.” The other voice was Kevrana’s.

“Ese frulma Unicorn. Utt do sposs deya?” Hadran demanded.

Kevrana sighed. “Herr tak es Twilight Sparkle, nos ‘frulma Unicorn.’”

Twilight opened her eyes. Her headache was nearly gone and her aches were lessened. She could feel much more energy coursing through her than before, and she took a deep breath before sitting up. Hadran stumbled back, almost out the door, before narrowing his eyes and glaring at Twilight.

Kevrana rolled her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asked, approaching Twilight.

“Kevrana, utt as deso? Dea nabear frulma Unicorn!” Hadran almost-yelled.

“Vease, Hadran!” Kevrana hissed back at him. Hadran didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t protest.

“Much better, thanks,” Twilight responded, not taking her eyes off of Hadran. She could see the gauntleted hoof twitch periodically, flicking toward the blade mechanism. “Why is he so afraid of unicorns? I understand that we might not be common, but we aren’t dangerous.”

“Your memory must be damaged, Twilight,” Kevrana said, feeling Twilight’s forehead with her hoof. “You seem okay, but water may have caused damage to your brain. I don’t know how long you were in there before I found you.”

Twilight sighed. “Just humor me, please? If you won’t believe me, at least give me that much.”

“Alright,” Kevrana said with a nod. “The only unicorn to be seen outside the Vale for the past century is King Ganymede.” Twilight just stared at her with a blank expression. “King Ganymede, ruler of Centuria, called Ganymede the Mad by many. Most call him a tyrant. He rules from the capital city of Grandis. Is any of this familiar to you?”

Twilight shook her head, her mind in a flurry. The only unicorn seen for a century became a tyrant? No wonder these ponies were scared of her; her horn marked her as something to be feared.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Twilight asked.

Kevrana considered her answer for a moment. “When the others look at you, they see only the monster that their fear of Ganymede has convinced them to see. When I look at you, I see a troubled mare in need of aid, aid that I can provide. If I have the opportunity to help a pony and don’t, what does that say about me?”

“Why is Ganymede so feared?” Twilight asked.

“That is a big question, Twilight. Why is any tyrant feared? Ponies fear power, especially if that power is over them. They say that when his horn glows, all of the warmth and light drains from the room, and he can kill you with just the nod of his head, and numerous other fantastic things like moving objects without touching them, even lifting buildings with his magic.” She leaned down next to Twilight’s ear. “Is it true? Can unicorns really do those things?”

Twilight thought about lying, about telling Kevrana that those things weren’t true. She knew that as soon as she revealed what she could do, she would be feared, maybe even hated. But in that moment, her rational brain merged with her survival instinct, reached a conclusion, and posed a question: would it be better to lie to them, or to show them what she could do now? She decided that maybe she should make them fear her, at least a little. Then they wouldn’t mess with her, right?

She didn’t answer her own question. Instead, her horn lit up, and the medical tools on the counter across the room were engulfed in her magical aura. A stethoscope, a bottle of disinfectant, a jar of cotton swabs, and more, lifted into the air as if on their own, floating to where Twilight was and forming a circular pattern of motion around her. Hadran looked like he was going to throw up, all the color having gone from his face; even Kevrana looked a little uneasy, though she stared with wide-eyed wonderment at the spectacle. Twilight felt the energy draining from her body, not having fully recovered yet, and she replaced the items on the counter, one by one.

“Ta-da,” Twilight said.

“So it’s true,” Kevrana said, eyeing the tools on the counter like they were going to come to life and attack her. For all she knew, they might. “I never believed it was possible.” She returned her gaze to Twilight with new respect in her eyes, and maybe more than a little fear. “So can you, um...” Kevrana trailed off. Then she lifted her hoof to her neck and drew it like a blade across her throat.

“No!” Twilight exclaimed. “No, I would never. Nopony in Equestria would even dream of something like that.”

“That sounds nice,” Kevrana said wistfully.

“It is,” Twilight said, eyes glazing over with memories, “or was.”

Just then, the hoofsteps of an approaching pony sounded in the hall. A grey earth pony with a shaved mane like Hadran’s pulled the stallion out into the hall and whispered some hurried message in his ear. Hadran nodded and they both hurried away, Hadran casting one last contemptuous look at Twilight.

“We’re probably pulling into Druthi,” Kevrana observed. She looked at Twilight. “Feeling up to a little fresh air?”

Twilight nodded and stood, wobbling for a moment before mastering her balance. Kevrana led the way out the door but didn’t stray too far ahead of Twilight. They ventured through tight corridors barely wide enough for two ponies, past doors with rusty hinges and worn-down walls, the metal peeling in some places and completely stripped away in others. There were signs hanging from the ceiling and next to doors, but they were all written in Kevrana’s language. Any ponies they passed averted their eyes and hurried past without stopping, sometime muttering something on their way by.

The ship swayed with the water’s steady rhythm as the two mares climbed the dented metal staircase that led up to the deck. Kevrana pushed the bulkhead open and Twilight had to shield her eyes from the sun with her forearm.

When her vision finally adjusted, Twilight Sparkle lowered her forearm and got her first look at her new world.

II. Druthi

Twilight stood on the deck of the Rach’thar, looking toward Druthi with a sickening mixture of anxiety and anticipation settling into her gut.

The sun hung in the air, beating down with a heat that never quite seemed to warm enough against the chilly air. Twilight had to squint through the sunlight, making Druthi just a series of dark shapes on the horizon until her eyes adjusted.

First, she saw the docks. They extended from the buildings on the mainland out over the beach and into the water. They were lined with ships tethered by rope to the wooden walkways, every place a ship could go occupied except one: the space the Rach’thar was heading right toward.

Past the docks were the first buildings, but it seemed as if there were no real distinction between the two. The buildings just beyond the docks were small and wooden, and leaned at odd angles. There were pieces of wood sticking off them in all directions, with no rhyme, reason, or structural guidelines to govern them; they were like tumors growing out of the port itself.

The buildings grew larger and more complex the further inland Twilight’s eyes wandered. First they were wooden shacks, then larger structures built of stone, then, in the distance, Twilight could make out a few tall spires stretching into the sky.

Green waves lapped at the long legs of the docks and crashed against a rocky outcropping that stuck out from the shore. White foam carried on the waves gathered, then dispersed just as quickly as more water came and washed it away.

The only large building on the waterfront was an enormous white lighthouse that towered above the surrounding buildings. It was the biggest lighthouse Twilight had ever seen, and after a mental size comparison to her own home in Ponyville, and then to the palace in Canterlot, Twilight came to the conclusion that the lighthouse wasn’t just big; it was enormous.

Twilight caught Kevrana frowning at her out of the corner of her eye, and turned to face her. “What?” Twilight asked.

Kevrana averted her gaze. “Nothing,” she said. Then, she frowned even harder. “Wait here,” she instructed before disappearing into the bulkhead that led below deck.

Once she was gone, Twilight saw Hadran standing at the edge of the boat, glaring at her. She could only hold his gaze for a moment before gulping and looking back toward the shore.

She couldn’t focus on Druthi for long, however, as she caught wary glances from the rest of the crew, who all seemed to be staying as far away from her as possible. They would stare at her when they thought she couldn’t see them, and look away when she tried to meet their eyes. She shifted under their gaze, shuffling her hooves and letting out a small cough.

Luckily, it was then that Kevrana reappeared with a large black cloth draped over her back and a bag slung over one shoulder. The other crew members became much more interested in looking at the shore as Kevrana approached Twilight.

“What’s that for?” Twilight asked.

Kevrana stopped a few feet short of Twilight, but didn’t answer. Her expression became one Twilight was familiar with: Kevrana was psyching herself up, though for what, Twilight had no idea. After a few moments, she nodded to herself and closed the rest of the distance.

“It would be bad if anypony discovered that you are a unicorn,” Kevrana explained, throwing the cloak over Twilight’s form. “It may draw bad attention before we find out what happened.”

Twilight wanted to say that she already knew what had happened to her, but she kept her mouth shut. For all she knew, they might actually find a clue as to how she was sent to the future.

She nodded and assisted Kevrana in pulling the hood over her head. With a little dexterity, the two mares successfully hid Twilight’s horn in the folds of the hood, with the rest of the thick black cloak draped over Twilight’s body.

Kevrana took a step back and admired her work. “Erfa,” she said.

“What?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Kevrana responded, “I forgot you do not speak Guld.” She tapped her chin with her hoof. “‘Erfa’ basically means... 'example?’ Or something to copy? Maybe... 'perfect!' Yes, perfect.”

Twilight nodded, making a mental note. “Erfa means perfect,” she said. “Got it. So is Guld the name of your language?”

“My language and my people,” Kevrana responded. She made a sweeping gesture with a hoof over the whole boat. “The Rach’thar is Guld, these ponies are Guld; the only thing on the ship that is not Guld is you, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight looked around. "I noticed," she muttered. As far as she knew, the Guld didn’t exist in her Equestria. How many other races would she have to meet and become acclimated to? It would be nearly impossible for two thousand years to have passed and the culture and customs of the ponies on the shore to not be completely unfamiliar to her. Sure, Druthi might look like it could fit in Equestria from a distance, but once she got close, how different would it be? Luna had so much trouble adapting to Equestria after only one thousand years of absence; Twilight had apparently been gone double that. There was a whole new world to learn about, more history than was recorded in the Equestria she had left behind.

“Twilight, are you alright?” she heard Kevrana ask. “You have lost your color.”

With a deep breath, Twilight shut her eyes. She could feel herself teetering over the brink of hysteria, and that was not a place she liked to be. Usually Spike would be there to help her snap out of it, but he was gone, just like the rest of her friends. And her home. And...

She wondered what Spike would say if he saw her like this, on the verge of tears.

“Geeze, Twilight, lighten up! You’ve found your way out of crazier jams than this one. You dealt with not one, but two legendary beings, the changeling invasion, a crazy ancient amulet, and you’ve saved my scales more times than I can even count! I’m sure you’ll find your way back, and when you do, I’ll be waiting. But until then, you gotta stay strong, ‘kay?”

Twilight smiled. “Okay,” she said.

“Hm?”

Twilight opened her eyes to find Kevrana looking at her. “I’m okay,” she said. “Just giving myself a little pep-talk, that’s all.”

Kevrana opened her mouth, then closed it again. “As long as you are alright."

Both mares looked back toward the shore, which had snuck much closer in the time their eyes were away. Twilight gulped, but in the next instant she clenched her jaw and steeled her nerve. If she were going to get through this, she would need to tackle it with the attitude of a determined Rainbow Dash.

Is there any other kind?

As the boat drew nearer and nearer to the dock, Twilight saw several ponies trotting to and fro on the walkways. Some were standing around, watching the boat as it grew steadily larger in their vision.

“Vease nauta!” Hadran shouted, making Twilight jump a little. She clutched her chest. Hadran smirked at her reaction.

Like clockwork, eight of the crew positioned themselves next to eight levers on the periphery of the deck, four on each side, while Hadran disappeared below deck.

“What did he say?” Twilight asked.

“‘Stop the boat,’” Kevrana responded. “Hadran has to go below to help the engineer stop the ship.”

The Rach'thar approached the dock. And kept approaching. Twilight looked around, and just as she was about to ask if there was something wrong, there was a sickening lurch as the boat’s speed plummeted. Twilight stumbled forward, but none of the Guld seemed to be affected. Then the ponies positioned near the levers each pulled their lever upward, leading to a further reduction in speed. Wind no longer blew through Twilight’s ears, and she could hear the words of the ponies on the dock.

She smiled a little; they were words she recognized.

The Rach’thar inched into its place in the harbor, now moving slow enough that some of the ponies on the dock reared back and put their hooves on the hull to bring it to a rest.

Less than two minutes after Hadran had given the order, the Rach’thar had docked in the port of Druthi.

“Wow,” Twilight said. “That was... efficient.”

Kevrana smiled. “We have much practice.”

As the gangplank was lowered to allow access to the shore, Hadran reappeared from the bulkhead. He started toward the rest of the crew, who were waiting to be let off the boat.

Twilight started after him. “Hadran,” she said.

“Twilight, what are you doing?” Kevrana asked, but Twilight ignored her.

Hadran spun around, came face-to-face with Twilight, and froze. His eyes went wide, and Twilight could almost swear that she heard his heart rate triple. He turned as white as Celestia’s coat and leaned as far away from her as he could. The reaction made Twilight doubt her course of action for a moment, but she decided to forge ahead.

She smiled, trying her hardest to put him at ease, but he seemed determined to be repulsed by her. No, not just repulsed. Terrified. Nonetheless, she had studied the magic of friendship extensively, and she knew that if you wanted to make a friend, you often had to be the one to make the first move.

“Erfa,” she said with a small nod, widening her smile a bit.

Then she turned around and, as she walked back to Kevrana, she saw the salvager quickly put something into her bag.

“What was that?” Twilight asked.

“Nothing,” Kevrana said, a little too quickly. Then she was looking past her at Hadran. “He looks confused, and pale. What did you say to him?” she asked whenever Twilight was close.

Twilight told her, and when she turned back around, Hadran looked away and started once again toward the gangplank.

“That was... unexpected,” Kevrana said. “Is everypony so friendly where you are from?”

Twilight nibbled on her lower lip. “Not everypony, but most of them are. To a lot of Equestrians, myself included, friendship is one of the most important things in the world. Friendship is magic, as they say.”

Kevrana frowned. "Magic is dangerous.”

Twilight didn’t have a response. She turned; the last few crew members were filing off the ship. Kevrana, Twilight in tow, walked down the gangplank and struck the dock with her hoof.

The breeze blowing off the ocean was frigid, but Twilight’s cloak managed to stave off some of the cold. She followed Kevrana around the Rach’thar toward the stairs that led away from the dock, but a large earth pony stepped in their way.

He raised an eyebrow at Twilight. “Pickin’ up stragglers now, are we Kevrana? Where’d you find this’n? At the bottom o’ the sea?”

“You are close! She was floating in the water,” Kevrana responded. “Twilight, this is Rudder. He is master of the docks. He is the first pony we see when we dock, and the last one we see when we leave.”

“Ya don’t say,” Rudder said, raising an eyebrow at Twilight. “And how’d ye get to be floatin’ in Northern Sea, lass? It ain’t exactly still water and sunny beaches up here.”

Twilight looked down. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I can’t remember.”

Rudder pursed his lips and examined Twilight’s face. This was it: the moment Twilight had been dreading. What if he had some strange custom that she didn’t know about? What if she offended him, or his family, or his heritage, or his profession, or his home town, or any other uncountable things that would be dear to him? She thought about throwing herself off the dock to avoid the confrontation, but then remembered how awful it was to be pulled out of that sea. So she stayed rooted in place, waiting for Rudder to see right through her and trying not to vomit.

After a long, uncomfortable moment, he smiled a big, toothy grin and stuck his hoof out. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, lass! Any friend o’ Kevrana’s is a friend o’ mine, regardless o’ the circumstances behind which they came to be floatin’ in the middle o’ the sea.”

Twilight reached out, shook his hoof, and smiled, her muscles relaxing. At least this was familiar. And now, of the ponies she had spoken to, there was a two-to-one ratio of friendly to unfriendly, a figure that put Twilight a little more at ease. “Nice to meet you, too,” she responded.

Rudder turned to Kevrana. “I gotta ask, Kevrana. What's with the cloak? She wasn't wearing it when ya found 'er, was she?”

Kevrana shook her head. "We gave it to her."

"Seems a bit... much. You know, what with---"

"She will be fine, Rudder." Kevrana smiled. "I promise."

Rudder shrugged, then turned back to Twilight. "Why are you wearing that tarp, anyway?"

Twilight articulated the first excuse that popped into her head. “I was cold.”

Rudder just stared at her for a moment. “Cold?” he asked, incredulous. “Nopony who lives in Druthi would get cold on such a fine Autumn day. You aren’t from around here, are you, lass?”

Twilight shook her head.

“Well, you must be far from home, then,” Rudder said. “Ain’t no city by land or sea for miles.”

Twilight nodded.

“That is something we are curious about,” Kevrana said. “Have you heard of anypony missing in Druthi? We are trying to find out if anypony saw Twilight in town before....”

Rudder’s face scrunched up. “Can’t say that I have,” he said, prompting the two mare’s shoulders to sag. “No more than usual, at least. But I ain’t exactly a conduit for local information,” he continued. “You might try Salty Tap, the barkeep at the Drunken Uncle. He’s a vicious gossip, but he’s well-informed. Just head along the edge o’ the wharf district and ya can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, Rudder,” Kevrana said.

“Don’t mention it, lass.”

There was a long silence. “Well,” Rudder finally said, “I won’t keep you two any longer with my jibber-jabbin.’ Off with ye; I got work to do.”

With that, Rudder blew past the two mares, and continued down the dock.

"What was that he was saying?" Twilight asked. "About my cloak?"

“It is nothing." She started walking toward the steps. "I will tell you when there is more time. There is much, much to tell you, but streets are bad for talking."

Twilight frowned. "That sounds... ominous."

Kevrana smiled. "Do not worry, Twilight! All will be well. What would you like to do firs—”

She was interrupted by a long, low grumble from Twilight’s belly, prompting the unicorn the blush. Kevrana giggled. “Let us find food.”

Kevrana led Twilight up from the dock and into the streets of Druthi. They passed several wooden buildings that could only generously be called shacks; some of them were leaning so badly that Twilight expected them to collapse at any moment. Clothes lines stretched across the street itself, prompting Twilight and Kevrana to go around and under several flowing white sheets. Colts and fillies weaved between the covers, laughing and chasing one another, and every single one was caked with dirt.

They passed a few adults, mostly mares. They all wore haggard expressions; they were thin and their cheekbones were pronounced; their manes were matted and their coats were dirty; and they all averted their gaze as Twilight and Kevrana passed, as if they were ashamed.

“What happened here?” Twilight asked. “Why are the conditions so terrible?”

Kevrana sighed. “Six months ago, a pack of roaming dragons destroyed two towns. I believe they were Easton and Farragut.” Twilight gasped, and Kevrana continued. “The ponies on the southern sides of the towns found lower places to live, and the rest went up, to Druthi.” She gestured to the surrounding buildings. “This is where they live.”

“So they’re refugees?” Twilight asked. Kevrana nodded. “That’s so... dreary.”

Twilight had an idea of how they felt. She had also lost her home, her possessions, and her friends, and she couldn’t even remember how it happened. But at least she had a chance of going back to how things were, or at least believed she did; these ponies were stuck here, unable to ever return to any semblance of normalcy, and they knew it.

She grit her teeth. “You said dragons attacked those towns?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kevrana responded, her brow knitting. “Burned them to the ground.”

“But dragons live in the west,” Twilight said. “They had for thousands of years before Equestria, and they should’ve for thousands after. What happened?”

Kevrana shrugged. “Like many things in Centuria, it was the doing of Ganymede. I hear that he drove them out, just one of his many feats of magic, but you would have to speak with dragons to learn the truth.”

They continued walking, the buildings getting more and more sturdy as they went as wood gave way to stone. The smell of fish was overpowering, but underneath were the sweet scents of cologne and the salty smell of sea brine. Clothes lines were replaced with stalls full of jewelry, and perfume, and fish, and herbs, and spices, and dozens of other things.

Twilight stopped in front of one of the fish peddlars. “Are they... selling those fish?” she asked, receiving a strange look from the vendor.

“Yes,” Kevrana said.

“That’s so wrong.”

“Ponies must eat,” Kevrana offered.

It took Twilight a few moments to pick her jaw up from the ground. “You eat them!” she yelled. “But fish have feelings! How can you just kill them and eat them and think it’s okay?”

Her outburst was drawing attention from the crowd. Kevrana leaned over and whispered, “I am not sure what you mean. Fish are animals; we eat them because we can catch them. It is not as if they talk.”

Twilight’s mind struggled to wrap around the concept; she shook her head and continued muttering about how wrong it all was even as she followed Kevrana’s lead once again, plunging back into the crowd. Eventually, though, she pushed it to the back of her thoughts, filing it away with the other things she would have to come to terms with in her new reality.

As the surroundings changed, so did the ponies. Downtrodden and sullen expressions were replaced by the joviality of the merchant, the good-natured vendors tending to their stalls. Here and there, customers were haggling for better prices on beads and groceries, while from within houses occasional shouting or laughter could be heard. Twilight caught snippets of conversation as she and Kevrana made their way through the narrow streets, weaving around and occasionally pushing aside ponies to get through.

It astounded Twilight how similar everything was to Equestria. Well, except for the fish thing, of course. The language was almost identical, with an occasional new slang term or phrase popping up. The architecture seemed largely intact from her own time, the styling of the northern towns of Equestria very close to Druthi’s. She barely had time to register it, though, in trying to keep up with her companion.

Twilight focused on Kevrana as much as she could, but keeping her cloak on was taking most of her attention. Every time she brushed against another pony, or a pegasus’s wing almost caught the hood, her heart would stop. She held the cloak fast around her form and powered through, constantly having to adjust the hood to make sure her horn remained hidden. With the streets so crowded, Twilight began to sweat under the garment despite the low temperature outside.

Soon, even the stalls began to fade, petering out one by one. Now there were signs hanging above doors signifying different business practices performed there; the streets weren’t quite as crowded here, giving Twilight some much-needed breathing room. Kevrana took a sharp right and pushed open a door, disappearing into a building with a sign that had a bowl of soup on it above the door.

Twilight followed. They found an isolated corner and sat down, awaiting the waiter. Twilight’s stomach growled again, and Kevrana giggled again. Then the waiter appeared, and both mares ordered their food and drink.

They sat in silence for a moment before Twilight asked about something that had been bothering her since the docks.

“So do you really not believe me?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“About what?” Kevrana responded.

“That I’m from Equestria,” Twilight answered. “That I was really sent two thousand years into the future somehow. You asked Rudder if anypony had gone missing around here, like you would find an answer, but you won’t. I know you won’t, because Equestria is my home, and whatever happened to me sent me from there to the middle of the sea.”

Kevrana sighed. “I am not sure what to believe, Twilight. What you say seems impossible, but your horn does not lie. Even if you are mistaken, the only way for you to have ended up here is if you came all the way from the Vale, which seems almost as unlikely. You are a... problem?”

“Gee, thanks,” Twilight replied.

“No,” Kevrana shook her head, “that is not the word. You are strange, Twilight. A... difficulty? No, that is not right either.”

“An enigma?” Twilight offered.

“Yes!” Kevrana confirmed. “You are an enigma, Twilight.”

Twilight shook her head. “Not if you just accept what I’m saying as truth,” she said.

“How can I do that?”

“You just do,” Twilight answered. “I can’t make you believe anything, and I know what it’s like to be on both sides of this problem. I know how it is to be skeptical, to doubt even one of your closest friends because there is no easy explanation.” A certain pink pony’s twitchy tail came to mind. “And I know what it’s like to try and convince everypony of the truth only to have them not believe you, to make you out as the bad pony, even though you’re so sure of what you’re saying.” Queen Chrysalis and the changeling invasion. “So think about it logically,” she continued. “Even if I am delusional, and I came from the Vale, wouldn’t it be easier for you to just tell me that you believe me, so as to ease the transition from delusion to reality?”

Kevrana tapped her hoof on the table and nibbled on her lower lip, staring into Twilight’s eyes for a long while. She reached across the table, stopped, then kept moving, placing her hoof over Twilight’s. “I don’t know why, Twilight,” she said, “but I believe you. Regardless of whether or not what you say is true, you believe it, and for now, that is enough for me.”

Twilight smiled. Kevrana’s sincerity lifted a small weight from her shoulders; it was good to have somepony believe in her.

Their food arrived and they ate largely in silence, mostly because Twilight was inhaling hers without giving it a second thought. The way she figured, she hadn’t eaten in at least two thousand years, so a good meal was deserved. Her broccoli and cheese soup stood no chance against her appetite, but she had to make a conscious effort not to use magic while she was eating. Simply picking up the spoon was an ordeal at first, but she eventually got good enough at it to stuff her face. She wondered if that was how earth ponies and pegasi lived all the time without magic, then shuddered at the thought.

When she was finished, she licked her lip and looked up to see Kevrana, paused with an anchovy near her mouth, staring at her. Twilight ignored the fish as best she could.

“What?” she asked through a mouth full of soup.

Kevrana shook herself back to her senses. “Nothing,” she said, and continued eating.

Twilight considered bringing up the fish thing again, but thought better of it. It might draw attention; the less conspicuous she seemed, the better.

When they were finished, Kevrana paid with some copper pieces and they left. The sun was a little further along in the sky, but there were still at least a few hours of daylight left.

“So,” Twilight said, turning to Kevrana, “what now?”

Kevrana shrugged. “I do not know. What do you want to do?”

Twilight was about to say something snarky about knowing literally nothing about the town, but then an idea occurred to her.

“Does Druthi have a library?” she asked.

Kevrana smiled. “Follow,” she said.

They took a few twists and turns through the streets, which were laid out like a grid, like city blocks in Canterlot. The streets weren’t named, though, not as far as Twilight could see; she wondered how long Kevrana had been in Druthi to know her way around so easily. She began to examine each building they passed, wondering if one of them could be Kevrana’s home. But, like all good scientists, her curiosity got the better of her.

“So which one’s your house?” she asked, trying her hardest to sound casual and not creepy.

Kevrana just laughed. That wasn’t an encouraging response. “No, Twilight,” she said after catching her breath, “I do not live in Druthi. My home is far to the south, in the capital city of the Guld fleet.”

“Fleet?” Twilight questioned. “You live on ships?”

Kevrana rolled the question around in her head. “Yes and no. It is difficult to explain, Twilight. The Guld are nomads; we travel from continent to continent, dropping anchor in whatever place will take us.”

“Hm,” was all Twilight said. Her brain was moving, and her mouth was taking the back seat. She looked around at the familiar architecture and the customs that were largely identical to her own, then looked at Kevrana, who lived a lifestyle entirely different from Equestrians.

The more things change, she thought.

“We are here," Kevrana said, stopping in her tracks.

Twilight looked around, but all the buildings looked the same. “Here?” she asked.

Kevrana nodded, then went into an unassuming tan building that was square and barely two stories tall. Twilight furrowed her brow, searched the facade for any kind of indication that it was a library and, finding none, followed Kevrana inside.

Inside the library, Twilight slumped her shoulders. The building could barely be called what it claimed to be; sure, there were shelves that had books on them, but from the looks of it, more than half those books were missing. There were cushions, but they were ratty and aging, causing Twilight to cast them a mistrustful glance. Behind the counter stood an elderly mare who was staring at the opposite wall, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of her mouth.

Kevrana sojourned to a corner and began digging around in her leather bag, pulling out a small screwdriver and a dull metal sphere. She started fiddling around with the sphere, but Twilight felt she had more important things to do and went off in search of answers.

She decided to start with the history section. Textbooks would give her the most information in the shortest amount of time, and she needed to cram. As she browsed the shelves, the familiar smell of leather-bound books and the crisp scent of paper filled her nostrils. She closed her eyes, and for just a moment, she convinced herself she was back home.

But she wasn’t home, and there were things to learn, and if Twilight Sparkle knew how to do anything, it was learn. While the library’s selection was certainly lacking, there were still a few history books on the shelves. With a quick glance back to make sure the librarian’s stupor was as real as it seemed, Twilight used her magic to grab several books and took them back to a table.

She began at the beginning. She found the book that went back the furthest and opened it to page one, her eyes scanning, absorbing information in the method she had perfected during the long nights of studying while at the academy. A bit near the bottom of the page about Equestria caught her eye.

Modern history as we know it began nearly two thousand years ago, when an unknown event triggered the immediate decline of the kingdom known as Equestria. Very little is known about Equestria, as no artifacts, ideals, or symbols survived the event, and the little that did gives no indication of how they lived, governed themselves, or went about their daily activities.

Twilight pulled herself from the book, alarm bells going off in her head. “Unknown event?” she asked herself. “What happened?” She went back to reading.

As with most kingdoms, Centuria was born from the fall of the one before it. Out of the aftermath of the decline of Equestria, a new, ideal empire was born, carried toward paradise in the hooves of the great King Ganymede.

She turned the page, glanced over the content, then flipped several more pages before slumping back. It wasn’t a history book; it was a gospel. All it did was recount apparent tales of King Ganymede’s supposed great feats of heroism, protecting Centuria from everything from dragons to pirates to minotaurs. Flipping through the rest of the book, it was clear that she wasn’t going to find the information she was looking for.

With a sigh, she set the book aside. Pulling from the pile she had gathered, she found that the next book was almost the same as the first; no real information, just stories about Ganymede that were so outlandish, Twilight couldn’t bring herself to read more than a few.

It was the same with the next book, and the next. Twilight was about to give up when the last book grabbed her attention. The binding was almost gone, the pages were ruffled and ripped, some even singed, and the title was barely legible. She wiped away a layer of dust to reveal solid block lettering that read The Machine War.

Twilight opened the book and saw that it was different. It spoke of a time when Ganymede ruled, but it didn’t focus on him. Instead, there was information about technological advances during his rule, devices and contraptions that were nowhere to be found in Druthi. Large portions of the book were illegible, and Twilight could only read snippets, like small snapshots of information.

As she ventured through the book, she found that entire sections were missing. She sighed; it looked like the book had been vandalised on purpose. Still, she decided to take it with her and, careful to make sure she was holding the book in her mouth and not her aura, she took it to the front desk.

Kevrana was still fiddling with her contraption, but she put it away when she saw Twilight, walking up to join her.

“Excuse me,” Twilight said after spitting the book out onto the counter.

The elderly librarian snapped herself out of her state, sucking a long strand of drool back into her mouth.

“Yes?” she said, her voice small and frail. “What can I help you with, dearie?”

Twilight set the book on the counter. “I’d like to check this book out, please.”

“Of course, dearie,” the librarian said.

There was a long silence. The librarian’s eyes started to glaze over as she drifted away again. Twilight opened her mouth to say something, but Kevrana nudged her and nodded toward the door. Innate librarian instincts held Twilight in place at first, but as she looked across the counter and saw no ledger for book checkouts, then saw once again the state the library was in, she opted only for a sigh and left with Kevrana, setting the book on her back to carry.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Kevrana asked. The sun was almost touching the horizon now.

Twilight half-frowned. “Not really,” she said. “I was looking for history books, but all I found were stories worshipping King Ganymede’s apparent great feats.”

“I found the same when I first tried to learn about Centuria,” Kevrana said. “Most books are written by the church, and you will find little value in them.”

“Lemme guess,” Twilight said. “There’s a church that worships Ganymede as a god, and they control the output of literature and textbooks. Nothing is written that they don’t want written. Am I close?” Kevrana nodded, and Twilight cried out in frustration. “I just ended up two thousand years in the future! How is it that everything is so backwards?”

“It is just the way things are, Twilight,” Kevrana responded.

“Well maybe I don’t want things to be the way they are!” Twilight shouted. She could feel the weight of the day finally crashing down on her. “You know what? After careful consideration, I’ve decided that this is officially the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Everything I know is gone, and I don’t know if I can ever get it back. My friends, my home, my life, it’s all evaporated into thin air. And do you know what the worst part is? I can’t even remember how it happened! I can’t remember anything about whatever happened to me! Every time I try, my mind goes blank, like somepony reached into my head and yanked out my memory. And even if I do manage to somehow go back to my time, there’s no telling that whatever happened won’t just happen again! I have experience with time; whatever happened is going to happen regardless of what I do, so why even bother?” She sat down and fought back tears, the book on her back clattering to the ground. “I’m all alone. I’m never going home, I’m never going to see my friends again, and I don’t even get to know why.”

Twilight felt Kevrana approach, then drape her foreleg over her shoulder. Kevrana didn’t say anything, and Twilight didn’t want her to. She was too tired to shrug her off, so she allowed Kevrana to guide her, to lift her up and lead her through the streets while she wallowed in her own misery. Nothing around her registered and she didn’t know how long they walked for, but when they stopped, it was in front of what looked like an inn. Twilight looked up at the sign, which read The Drunken Uncle.

They went inside. The atmosphere inside was warm and jovial, but Twilight kept her tired eyes fixed on the floorboards, stifling a yawn. Her muscles were lax; she wobbled back and forth on unsteady limbs.

Kevrana got a room and led Twilight through the inn and up a set of shallow wooden stairs. Once they were in their room and the door was closed, Kevrana led Twilight to sit on one bed and sat down herself on the opposite one.

“I cannot pretend to know what it is you are going through, Twilight,” she said, “and I cannot deny that whatever has happened to you is truly awful.”

That certainly didn’t make Twilight feel any better.

“But,” Kevrana continued, “I can tell this: you are not alone. I am here to help you in whatever way I can, and I think I have an idea of how it can be done.”

Twilight didn’t look up. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“The Vale,” Kevrana responded.

“What?”

Kevrana nodded. “No unicorn has been seen outside the Vale since Ganymede. Centurians never go near it out of superstition, and there must be a reason. I have thought about it ever since I was a little filly: maybe that is where the unicorns are.”

Twilight thought about it. What other choice was there? If there were other unicorns, her best bet at finding out what happened to her would lie with them. Maybe they had kept records better than the Centurians. Even if she couldn’t go back, she could at least learn the truth.

And anything was better than wandering aimlessly.

She nodded. “Okay. But where do I start? Where is the Vale?”

Now Kevrana smiled. “That is where I come in. The Vale is far to the south, almost as far as the Guld fleet and its flagship. The Rach’thar will leave to return to Home in a few days, and you can be aboard.”

“Really?” Twilight didn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” was all that came out, but it didn’t feel like enough.

“Do not thank me yet, Twilight,” Kevrana said. “It is a long trip, and you will have to work. Hadran will never allow you passage on the Rach’thar unless you make yourself useful.”

Twilight nodded again. “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said.

“I am glad to hear it,” Kevrana responded. “Now, though, we should sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Twilight agreed and they lay down on their respective beds, the time-displaced mare’s brain embracing sleep the second her head hit the pillow.

III. Church and State

Twilight opened her eyes, blinked, and then closed them again. Her brain was foggy, her mouth tasted terrible, her muscles ached, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

Her brain, lacking any regard for what she wanted, was waking up faster than her body, and it demanded that she get up and move. Never one to ignore her brain for long, Twilight rolled out of bed with a sigh.

Her limbs were unsteady at first, but after shaking the sleep from them, they warmed up to their task. She opened her eyes, and kept them open this time. Kevrana was nowhere to be found. She felt an initial wave of panic rise in her throat, but a few deep breaths quelled her fears. If Kevrana needed to be there, she would be. She wouldn’t just abandon Twilight for no good reason.

Right?

Twilight resolved to wait. Kevrana couldn’t have gone too far, and leaving Twilight alone for too long would be irresponsible, wouldn’t it? Twilight sat back on the bed before springing up again to pace. She glanced toward the door, then shook her head. After a few more steps, she looked at the door again, her gaze lingering this time. Then, she started toward it. There was too much to see for her to stay cooped up in that little room; Kevrana had said that the Rach’thar wouldn’t be leaving for a few days, so why not get to know Druthi? She rationalized it as “coming to terms with her new reality.”

As she reached the door, though, memories of the previous day came flooding back. Did she really want to go out there and face this world again? This place where ponies ate fish, and knowledge was controlled by a church, and refugees were forced to live in hovels? Where there were ponies who lived on boats that seemed as if they could barely stay afloat? Where she was a stranger, an outcast, a freak?

Twilight bit her lip. Was this really what she wanted?

With one last look around the room, Twilight grabbed her cloak and fastened it around herself with her magic, making sure to hide her horn in the folds. The room lacked a mirror, so she just had to hope she had done a good job.

The hallway outside the door was empty, as was the stairwell that led down to the bar. Twilight stopped when she reached the main room. Some of the ponies seated at the tables glanced in her direction, but she apparently didn’t hold much interest for them, as they soon turned back to their breakfast.

Or was it lunch? Twilight realized she had no idea what time it was. She walked over to the bar, where the barkeep washed a glass with a rag that looked like it hadn’t been clean for decades. When she cleared her throat to speak, it was raw and scratchy, and she ended up coughing instead of talking.

“Reefer, your order’s up!”

Twilight froze with her mouth open, startled into silence by the booming voice of the huge mare who had just appeared from what must have been the kitchen. She had a plate balanced on her back, and she carelessly transferred it to the bar as a pony at one of the tables in the back stood up.

Twilight looked at the plate and gulped.

Fish. There was a whole fish sitting on the plate just a few feet away, with tendrils of steam rising from it. It still had eyes, empty, dead, fishy eyes, and they were looking right at her. She held its gaze, unable to look away.

The mare turned to Twilight. “You need something?”

Twilight didn’t respond. She could smell the fish, the butter and the garlic and the other spices that it was drowned in, all masking an unmistakable fishy odor. She turned and retched. Nothing came up save for an acid that coated and burned her throat like fire.

“Water...” she choked out, wincing with the word. The barkeep stopped cleaning the glass and filled it with water, setting it on the bar when it was half full. Twilight was a moment away from grabbing it with her magic before she realized what she was doing and stopped herself. So she grabbed it with her hoof instead and, careful to keep her hood in place, drank it down.

“Thank—” she started.

“Are you gonna pay for that?” the barkeep asked, cutting her off. “Or are you just gonna take it as a ‘tithe,’ like all your friends?” His voice brimmed with venom.

Twilight was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he spat back.

“I don’t...” Twilight started before she had to clear her throat again. “I don’t have any money...” She trailed off. Her brain was not equipped to deal with conflict this soon after waking up.

The bartender laughed bitterly. “Of course you don’t. Your kind never do. You take all you can, and claim to have nothin’ when it comes time to pay. Well, I don’t like ponies who don’t pay takin’ up space in my bar.”

Twilight looked around. Some ponies were looking at them, but more had found something more interesting at the bottoms of their glasses. Twilight smiled sheepishly before turning back to the bartender.

He leaned in close. “That means get out, love,” he whispered, nodding toward the door.

Twilight did not feel it in her just then to argue. She just looked down and walked toward the door, trying to puzzle out what had just happened. Did he mistake her for somepony else? Or was he just mean? Either way, Twilight did not look forward to coming back and facing him again.

As Twilight stepped out into afternoon, she breathed a sigh of relief. The cold air felt good, and the way it chilled her nostrils as she breathed help to clear her head. She decided not to dwell on what had just happened; she came outside to explore Druthi, so that’s what she was going to do. With one look back at the sign to the Drunken Uncle to memorize it, she started walking.

She didn’t know where she was going; she didn’t care. The Drunken Uncle must have been near some kind of merchant district, because it wasn’t long before Twilight came upon several stalls full of various wares and sundries. Merchants called out what they were selling: “Pearls! Jewels and pearls!” came from Twilight’s left, “Pots and pans, here, get your pots and pans!” from a little up the way, and “Fresh fish!” on her right. She gave that stand a wide berth.

Up above, groups of pegasi flew. Ropes wrapped around their midsections, connecting them to their boxes of whatever they were selling. Twilight saw a transaction happen on a rooftop where a pegasus had flagged down one of the flying merchants.

It all reminded her of Ponyville’s market, but there was something different. Twilight listened as she walked, but she heard no laughter, no cheerful merchants handing any free samples to little colts and fillies. Everything was sedated, the buyers and the sellers always glancing around and narrowing their eyes at one another. As Twilight passed one stall, a fight almost broke out over a deal, and she hurried past with her head down.

The street was wide enough to fit six ponies across, even with the stalls. As Twilight maneuvered through the throng, she caught several glances aimed at her. A few merchants glared at her as she walked past, some ponies seemed to avoid her, taking their time to go around and keep their heads downs. Each instance made her heart rate speed up.

Do they know? she thought, glancing around. A moment earlier, these ponies were just stern and cold, but now they seemed malicious. Oh, Celestia, they know. They can see it on my face. Every wayward glance, every shifty stare, every cowed individual was another nail in Twilight’s coffin. She had a vision of the crowd surging toward her, grabbing her from all sides, pulling her hair and tearing the cloak from her body to reveal her as their monster. They would drag her into an alley, too many to fight off even with her magic, and they would string her up and burn her at the stake or do something equally horrifying.

Her breaths became gulps of air. No, not here! she thought. I can’t panic here. Have to get away.

The crowd had grown infinitely thicker, and it pushed her along without her control. Then she saw an opening on her right, and she ducked into it. The alleyway was mostly empty, save for some stacked boxes and a couple children at the opposite end. Twilight took several deep breaths, trying her hardest to ignore the looks she was getting even now from some ponies as they passed the mouth of the alley.

Twilight looked toward the other end of the alley, which connected two large streets together. The one furthest from Twilight seemed a bit less crowded than where she had just come from, so she resolved to go out that way.

As she approached the other end, she could hear the children, a colt and a filly, playing. The colt had a stick.

“I am the great and powerful King Gaymede!” the colt said in a gruff, childish imitation of a stallion’s voice. “Fear my power!” He made a few vaguely magical noises as he thrust his head and the stick toward the filly. “Pow, I got you! You’re dead!”

The filly stomped her hoof. “No fair!” she whined. “You always get magic! How am I supposed to win?”

The colt opened his mouth to speak, but then caught sight of Twilight staring at them, mouth agape.

“Come on, sis,” he said, dropping the stick and leading the filly out the other end of the alley.

Twilight just stood there, dumbstruck.

Was that how these ponies saw magic? That colt wasn’t pretending to levitate objects, or teleport, or transmute things, or any of the other numerous things magic could be used for; in his mind, magic was used to kill. For murder. That view of magic trickled from the adults all the way down to the children, who saw it as so commonplace that it was a game they played on the street. Twilight started to feel lightheaded, but also had a dim awareness that if she collapsed there, she might be discovered. And now a child's game had affirmed how deadly that might prove.

Twilight found that she was no longer very curious about Druthi. She just needed to get back to the Drunken Uncle and wait for Kevrana. She knew that retracing her steps would be the easiest way back, so she turned around.

The way back was blocked by a merchant stall that hadn't been there a few moments before. Twilight gulped and turned back around. It looked like she had no choice but to forge ahead or to politely ask the merchant if she could pass.

Or I could blast him out of the way.

She pushed that thought away and, after the merchant turned around and she saw the dirty look his one good eye shot at her, she decided that her best option would simply be to forge ahead. She made her way to the other side of the alley and out into another street.

It was much easier to maneuver on this street, but Twilight still didn’t like the looks some of the ponies were giving her. She turned right when she got out of the alley, since that was the direction she had come from, but it wasn’t too long before the road curved around to the left.

Now this can’t be right...

Twilight stopped to get her bearings and felt a pony bump into her from behind. She turned around to see a mare standing there, eyes wide and skin blanched.

“I-I’m sorry!” the mare stammered. “I won’t let it happen again! I’m so sorry, sister!”

“Um... okay?” Twilight responded. Why is this mare scared of me? A quick glance up confirmed that her horn was still hidden. She opened her mouth to ask a question before deciding it wasn’t worth it. “You’re forgiven, I guess.”

The mare was flushed with relief. “Thank you, sister,” she said before hurrying away with her head down.

Twilight wondered how many more times she would feel completely lost in this place, in more ways than one. Too many. She kept walking.

Now that the streets were becoming less crowded, Twilight felt like she could breathe again. Getting back to the Drunken Uncle no longer seemed as important, so she resolved to keep exploring, at least for a little bit.

The more residential area of Druthi had fewer ponies in it than the market district. She passed some commuters, but as she walked the ponies became fewer and fewer, and the houses became bigger and bigger. Then Twilight crossed a threshold.

There was a dividing line between those who were wealthy and those who weren’t. Twilight looked back and could practically see the difference between the classes. Sure, the buildings built up gradually, but there was an obvious, illustrious change from the best middle-class building to the worst high-class building. It felt like she had stepped from one painting into a completely different one.

She looked forward, then glanced back, then looked ahead again. Biting her lip, she started forward.

It was almost like being in another world. The quiet was surreal; Twilight found herself keeping her breathing in check so as to not disturb the calm. Even the air felt different. Cleaner, somehow. There were no ponies walking the streets. The houses showed no movement inside, save for a flicker of a shadow here and there. The clopping of her hooves against the hard stone echoed all around, the sound seeming much too loud in the valley that stretched between manors.

Twilight’s breath couldn’t help but catch when she saw some of the houses. Enormous estates, some covering acres, towered above, five, six, even eight stories tall. Stout iron fences guarded the outskirts, and there was a tough-looking pony stationed at the gate to each one. Through the bars, Twilight could see large ornate fountains, inlaid with gold or silver filigree, spouting water. One even looked like it was flowing with wine. There were jeweled lawn ornaments, tall, blooming hedges tended to by gardeners, and fragrant gardens of roses and chrysanthemums.

Looking at the houses made Twilight uneasy. There were ponies with this obscene amount of wealth living in this kind of luxury, and just the day before, she had seen refugees with nothing to their name living in filth and squalor on the waterfront.

Surely some of that wealth could be used for new buildings, Twilight thought. So why isn’t it?

Twilight continued walking in the shadows of those mythical giants, the titans of wealth that looked down on her with their windows like eyes, prying at her secrets. She felt naked in their gaze, like they could see who she was down to the core. She quickened her pace.

Up ahead, a cathedral came into view. Twilight saw it long before she even came close; it towered above all the other buildings. Several towers extended into the air, with spiraling walkways and grim, low-browed gargoyles perched along the rooftop. Enormous stain-glass windows dominated the front of the building, the largest of which depicted a huge gothic tower rising into the sky beneath a blood-red moon.

Twilight realized she had been staring up at it for far too long. She lowered her gaze, and froze.

She was much closer to the church than she had realized. So close, in fact, that she could see the ponies filing up the stone steps and through the front door. Most of them were wearing white cloaks that shimmered in the sunlight, but a few were wearing black cloaks.

Cloaks eerily similar to Twilight’s.

Twilight froze, wondering if she had been seen. She stood there for three seconds, four, knowing she should move, should turn around and walk away as if she had never seen them. It was obvious now why ponies had been calling her “sister:” she was dressed the same as those ponies in black, the members of the church. That church was the last place she should be; if they found out about her, there was no telling how they would react. Poorly, she guessed.

She spun around to leave, but it was already too late.

“Hey, you there!” called a voice from behind her. “What are you doing? Get over here!”

In that second, Twilight had to decide between turning back around or bolting away as fast as she could. She ran through outcomes of both.

Run: few allies in Druthi, little knowledge of town layout, no escape. Outcome not good. Don’t run: risk being strung up, may be able to to bluff my way out of trouble, but if not, I’m in the mouth of the beast. She sighed. There was no easy way out.

She turned back around.

It was crazy. She knew it was. She was waltzing into the most dangerous place in the city for her, practically serving herself up on a platter. They could be marching up to commit suicide, she thought, or to perform ritual sacrifice. An image jumped to the front of her mind of a picture she had once seen in a book of ancient ponies sacrificing a goat. She suppressed a shudder.

Underneath it all, though, Twilight couldn’t help but to feel the buzz of curiosity about the church. And now she was being invited in.

“Sorry. I, uh, got lost,” Twilight lied as she approached, trying to keep her voice from quivering.

The pony who had called out to her rolled his eyes. “Yeah right. Hey, I don’t care what you do, just don’t go ruining things for the rest of us, yeah?”

Twilight nodded.

The pony whistled. “Don’t even got a clasp, eh? I heard they were making cuts in Druthi, but I didn’t think anything of it.” Twilight’s eyes were drawn to the bronze brooch holding the cloak around the pony’s neck, and she felt out the same spot on her own neck where the cloak was only tied. “Maybe it’s because you’re a mare, yeah? No other mares going to Camp in our group. Always seemed like a stallion’s club to me, y’know? Except for Miss Violet, of course. Anyway, I'm Orion. What’s your name?”

“Andromeda,” she said, playing word association and saying the first thing that popped into her head.

The stallion whistled again. “Parents real nuts for the king, yeah? Naming you after stars and stuff? Guess that’s why you’re here. Tar, it’s why I’m here. Pleasure meeting you, by the way.”

“Same,” Twilight responded, not sure if she meant it or not.

Orion seemed content to do all the talking, giving Twilight leave to look around. They were walking slowly up the steps. The ponies in black were mostly on the left, and the ponies in white were on the right. A few ponies in black with silver clasps ushered them through the doors. Twilight noticed that she was the only mare wearing black.

He wasn’t kidding.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m here,” Orion said. “Hey, are you even listening?”

Twilight turned back to him. “Oh, uh, sorry.”

Orion smiled. “No worries. I’m only blathering, yeah? I talk when I’m nervous, can you tell? I mean, meeting Inquisitor White, this is gonna be crazy.”

“Who’s Inquisitor White?” Twilight asked before she could stop herself. Stupid, Twilight! Stupid!

The look Orion gave her felt like a spotlight, searching her face for signs of insanity. Twilight put on her best plastic smile, but she was sure her anxiety showed through. Then Orion burst into laughter.

“Oh, almost got me there!” he said. “‘Who’s Inquisitor White?’ Oh, good one.” He sighed. “Thanks. I needed that. A little laugh to get the tension out, yeah?”

Twilight nodded and breathed her own sigh of relief. But it wasn’t over yet; they had just reached the doors, and Twilight took her first step into the church

(*) (*) (*)

There was a small office three floors above the entrance to the cathedral. It’s furnishings were simple; a thin red carpet over hard wood, a cold, empty hearth, a few small carved tables against one wall. There was a large mahogany desk toward one end of the room, dark and plain, and scattered with papers. The only truly ornamental piece was the elaborate frame around the portrait of King Ganymede that

A pony sat behind a desk. He was stark white, with a blood-red mane that was brushed back behind his ears. He chewed the inside of his lip, gnawing on the raw skin as he read over the papers in front of him. The nameplate on the desk read “Amber Gaze,” but the pony had always hated that name. It sounded too much like a mare’s name. His subordinates called him “sir,” and his superiors called him “you.” The only time he got a name was from the other Inquisitors, or in his own head. His official title was Inquisitor White, though he was referred to simply as White.

There was commotion to his right, but he ignored it. The caged griffon wasn’t worth his time, and it would be dealt with soon enough. The creature threw itself against the bars of its cell, trying to break free as what were no doubt muffled curses tried to find their way around the muzzle that clamped its beak shut.

White wasn’t worried about it. He stared at the paper before him, attempting to sift through the nonsense phrases and discern their true meaning. The griffon hadn’t cooperated; the pony had expected that. If there were one thing Midas was able to train his soldiers to do, it was resist interrogation. This one was no different, even though it was just a messenger.

Not that it would know anything about the orders it carried anyway. That would’ve been much too careless. No, the torture to come would just be a formality, a message to any others that may hear about it: if I catch you in my kingdom, I will end you.

After a while, the edges of White’s vision blurred and he tasted blood where he had bit down too hard. He sighed and leaned back, pressing his hoof into his forehead. His thoughts wandered; what had brought him here? Why was he stationed in this Ganymede-forsaken Tartarus pit of a town? Which higher-up had he pissed off to get such an assignment?

He looked over at the griffon in the cage with contempt. It was still trying to break through the cage, but its effort had grown weaker; now it barely rattled the bars. Catching that griffon was the first interesting thing to happen to him since the war began, but since it was in the middle of nowhere, he knew that the message wouldn’t be important. Something about rations, probably, to be carried to one of the griffons’ small western outposts.

He glanced out the window and saw the city stretched before him, all the way to the waterfront, where a large metal ship sat. As if the boredom weren’t bad enough, those damned Guld insisted on coming back to Druthi every year. Always claimed it was to find “scrap” for their boats, though he could scarcely believe them. If that were true, then why would they come all the way to the other side of Centuria for it? There were few machines up here to begin with, and they had been coming for five years in a row. Surely they must have picked everything clean by now. And, to make things worse, the locals in the wharf district were fond of them. If he got rid of the Guld and lost the middle class, the other Inquisitors would tan his hide.

Wow, you even messed that one up, huh, White? he could hear Violet say. The only pony in the world stupid enough to muck up a job where he had to do nothing. Then she would tsk and laugh at him, like she always did.

He sighed again. Druthi was the largest town in Centuria where nothing happened, and he was stuck there.

White’s thoughts were interrupted by the telltale sound of hoofsteps on the other side of the wall. There was a knock at the door a few moments later. White said nothing. He could hear the nervous shuffling on the other side of the door as the pony debated knocking again. Then, when White decided that the pony had had enough, he said, “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal one of his underlings, a stallion named Frosty... something. He was wrapped in a black cloak much like the one that hung over the back of White’s chair. Frosty stepped into the room and saluted.

“Speak,” White said.

“The initiates are here, sir. They’re waiting downstairs.” He didn’t look at White, though whether it was out of fear or respect, the inquisitor did not know. He hoped it was the former.

“I will be down shortly.” The pony didn’t leave. “Was there something else?” White asked, some annoyance creeping into his voice. Frosty’s eyes darted to the griffon, who was now lying on the floor of the cage, breathing heavily.

White stood up, walking over to the cage, and pulled down the curtain that rested on top, hiding the griffon from view.

“I said, was there something else?” he spat, walking over to Frosty.

Frosty gulped. “No, sir.”

“Then you are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, he spun around and left. White thought he heard a sigh of relief, but he couldn’t be sure.

He shook his head. Every one of his cardinals was incompetent. That was what Druthi was known for: if you didn’t know what you were doing, you were sent to Druthi, where there was nothing important that you could mess up.

So why was White still there? He was devout; he was competent; he had always gotten the job done when he was just a cardinal back in Grandis. They were wasting his talents here, and they didn’t even seem to care.

And now the initiates! How was he expected to train new cardinals in a region where nothing happened and a town where even more of nothing happened? They would never become real cardinals without fieldwork, and there was none of that to be had in Druthi. The books alone wouldn’t cut it, and he was expected to somehow produce results. It was beyond unfair.

His eyes shot up to the portrait of King Ganymede that hung over his mantle. It was the king’s personal favorite portrait of himself. All intense gaze and superiority, as it should be. Ganymede was a god, and this was the only painting that did him justice.

He bowed before the painting and closed his eyes, surrendering his sorrows to his lord. He knew that, with patience, he would rise to prominence—maybe even to Grand Inquisitor someday. Ganymede rewarded the strong;

“There is only goodness in strength,” he recited. “There is only strength in power. There is only power in faith. Lord, please give me strength in this, my time of crisis. Please give me an opportunity to prove myself, to show you that I can be your most powerful servant. I only wish for the chance to let my greatness shine. Grant me that chance, and I swear that I will not disappoint you. In your name, I pray.”

It was shorter than his usual prayer, and more to the point, but it would have to do. There were initiates waiting to hear him speak, and if the church wanted results, then by Ganymede he would give them results.

(*) (*) (*)

“... and you wouldn’t even believe how many oranges he fit in his mouth. Go ahead, take a guess.”

Twilight stood with the rest of the initiates at the front of the church, near the enormous stain-glass window that depicted a pony—Twilight figured it was Ganymede—destroying a dragon with a blast of energy from his horn. The dragon was disintegrating, turning into ash wherever the beam touched it. Ganymede’s face showed not the fierce determination of battle, but a cold indifference to the death of his enemy that sent shivers down Twilight’s spine.

The church was largely empty. There were long white lines that ran from left to right across the floor, though Twilight couldn’t imagine what they were for. The walls were full of paintings of Ganymede, who stared down at them from all directions with a cold, almost righteous indignation. She had tried to examine one without seeming too conspicuous when they came in. Ganymede was tall and stout, with thick limbs and a strong jawline. His coat was a dark brown, and his mane was an unnaturally bright white. But his eyes were what stuck out most to Twilight.

They were cold. Twilight shivered just looking at them, but found herself transfixed. The eyes were judgmental and condemning, like the painting could see into every wrongdoing she had ever committed and was promising punishment for her sins.

She tore her eyes away and pulled her cloak a little tighter.

As for the rest of the church, there were a few uncomfortable-looking benches closer to the front, and tall, unlit braziers stood along the walls. There were a few steps leading to an elevated platform with what looked like a podium at the far end, where Twilight and the other ponies were walking.

Orion hadn’t stopped talking since he had met Twilight. He was regaling her with tales of his friends back home, which, while they were at least mildly entertaining, mostly just made her homesick. She thought about her own friends, imagining what they would all be doing if she were back with them. Saving something, probably, or maybe just dealing with the issues that arose in everyday life. Twilight sighed; she missed the simple problems.

“Hey, are you even listening?”

Twilight realized that she had been staring off into space.

“Sorry,” she said. “What were you saying?”

Orion waved her off. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Wasn’t important anyway. Just try not to let it become a habit, yeah? ‘Unbecoming of a Cardinal,’ or whatever they say. Can’t really blame you, I suppose; I’ve just been jabberin’ on. What about you, Andromeda? What’s your story?”

“Oh, uh...” Twilight silently cursed herself for not thinking of a suitable backstory. “I’m nothing special. I’d probably just bore you with—”

She was interrupted by a loud slamming from a corner of the church. A door had been flung open, and a pony strode purposefully toward the group. Everypony around Twilight dipped their heads in a bow, and Twilight followed suit, too quick to get a good look.

Orion was next to her, his nose practically touching the ground. Twilight did the same. She could only hear hoofsteps and a sound like something being dragged. Then the noises stopped, and Twilight could tell that the pony was right in front of them. There was a soft thunk before the pony spoke.

“Rise,” he commanded.

They rose. Twilight was careful not to let her horn show.

What she saw was a white stallion with a red mane. He was wearing a black cloak like them, but the clasp holding his was golden, as opposed to the bronze that the others wore. There was a knife stuck into the floor next to him, and beside that, there was another, larger shape.

It was a griffon—Twilight assumed a male because of the generally lighter feather coloration—and he was in bad shape. He was bruised, there were patches of clumped feathers where blood had soaked through from a wound underneath, and there was some kind of muzzle holding his beak shut.

“I am Inquisitor White, the Keeper of the North, though you will only refer to me as ‘sir’ until you either surpass me in rank or die. I’ll let you guess which will happen first.”

There was a feeling of electricity in the air. Twilight could tell that this stallion thought himself important, and apparently, so did everypony else in the room. She remained quiet.

Inquisitor White started pacing, slowly, in front of the group. “I suppose you all think you got off easy, hm? Being assigned to Druthi? I bet you think that it will all be fun and games, all merriment and songs and simple patrols.” He smiled a smile that showed too much gum. “Well think again. I run a tighter ship than any of the other fools who like to call themselves inquisitors.”

There was confused muttering. “Did he just insult the other inquisitors?” Twilight heard a mare to her left ask. “Isn’t that heresy?”

“Quiet,” Inquisitor White said. Everypony went silent.

“Now,” he continued, “I assume you are all here because you are devoted to our Lord of Power, King Ganymede.” There was a general affirmative. “Good, because it is only by his doctrine that you shall live. You!” he shouted, pointing to Orion. “What are the three truths?”

Orion gulped. “There is only goodness in strength. There is only strength in power. There is only power in faith.”

“Correct.”

Orion let out a sigh of relief. White continued pacing, eyeing the ponies in the line as if they were his prey. Twilight pleaded for the universe to let him pass by without even a second glance, trying to make herself invisible without actually casting a spell to make herself invisible.

White’s gaze settled on Twilight, and he smiled. Apparently the universe wasn’t listening.

“You,” he said. “Come forward.”

Twilight’s mind jumped to a passage in a book she had once read. ‘When faced with a situation that causes anxiety, or in which one must lie to protect a secret, there are many physical symptoms that accompany the emotional stress. Increased heart rate, dilated pupils, and overproduction of sweat glands can all accompany the “fight or flight” response that is attributed to extreme anxiety.’

She stepped forward. Her heartrate felt like it had tripled. She took another step. Suddenly her cloak was too hot, too tight, too oppressive to stand. Her eyes were pointed straight down so that the inquisitor wouldn’t be able to read her as easily. Twilight fought her instinct to turn and run with every step, making the short journey feel like an eternity. Finally, the inquisitor’s hooves came into her vision, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

When she looked up, though, he was paying her no mind. Instead, he was leaning over the griffon, undoing the bonds that held his wings and legs tight. Twilight opened her mouth, then closed it again. Asking questions just didn’t seem worth it anymore.

The griffon was still unconscious. White called for smelling salts, and one of the robed church-ponies hurried over and set a small container down. Wasting no time, White grabbed it, popped the top off, and waved it around the griffon’s beak.

All at once, the griffon’s eyes shot open and he inhaled a huge breath, jerking his head back in the process.

“Wh-where am I?” he asked, his eyes darting around wildly. Some of the ponies that Twilight had come in with stepped away or turned their heads.

“Get up,” White commanded.

The griffon looked up and Twilight saw recognition in his eyes. She thought for a moment that the griffon was going to lunge at the inquisitor, but he just stood up instead. He winced as he placed his weight on one leg, and his breathing was labored, but his gaze was intense. It seemed like he was trying to burn a hole through White with his eyes, but behind it, Twilight thought she saw a little fear.

“The doctrines of Ganymede place power above all else,” White said, standing an equal distance from Twilight and the griffon. “This includes physical strength and prowess in combat.” Now he turned to Twilight. “This is what you will be demonstrating today. This griffon was intercepted attempting to skirt around Druthi on his path to deliver vital intelligence to the griffon army to the west, and he must be dealt with accordingly.” He kicked the knife over to Twilight and nodded toward the griffon. “Kill him.”

Twilight’s mind stalled. “What?”

“I do not like to repeat myself, worm. Kill him, before he kills you.” And with that, White stepped back.

The world seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Twilight locked eyes with the griffon, and before she could even realize what was happening he was one her.

He lunged forward, scooping the knife up and slashing wildly at her with it. Twilight, without thinking, jumped back. She felt the breeze that the knife left in its wake tickle her snout. Then she landed, hard, but the griffon was on her again.

“Ferocious” was how Twilight thought of him then. “Desperate” was how she thought of him later. He swung with no precision, no finesse. Twilight dodged left, dodged right, ducked. Her robe hindered her movement, but she didn’t dare shed it. The griffon’s injuries slowed him, but Twilight lost speed to the robe.

“What are you doing!?” White shouted from across the church. “Kill him!”

The griffon swung too hard and stumbled, giving Twilight the time to speak.

“Stop!” she shouted. “I’m not here to hurt you!”

The griffon slashed again. “Why should I... believe you?” He was panting, but he didn’t stop.

“Because I’m here to save you!” The lie came out before Twilight realized what she was saying.

The griffon hesitated. “What?” He furrowed his brow and frowned. “No! You’re a pony. Ponies can’t be trusted.” He lunged with a savage battle cry.

Twilight ducked under a slash, then sidestepped a lunge. A shape loomed in her peripheral vision. She grabbed the brazier and heaved. The brazier, full of ash and soot from a hundred lightings, fell. The griffon, who was already in mid-lunge, was clipped by top of the object. The knife flew from his grasp and slid to a stop where Twilight was standing.

“Don’t just look at it!” White was walking toward them now. “Finish him!”

The griffon was groaning, but was starting to get back up. Twilight turned to run, but was yanked backward off her hooves. Her robe was caught on the leg of the brazier and had wrapped around her body, squeezing her forelegs against her chest. She twisted and wrenched, grunting through gritted teeth. Any second, the griffon would pick up the knife and open her exposed belly if she didn’t get free. With one last desperate yank, she stumbled away from the robe.

A chorus of gasps went up. Twilight’s robe had decided not to come with her when she had torn free. She was exposed.

White’s jaw had dropped. “What... what is the meaning of this?” he asked. His face twisted into a snarl. “Seize her! Seize both of them!”

The church-ponies were hesitant. Twilight could tell they didn’t know what to make of seeing a unicorn in their midst.

“Don’t just stand there!” White shouted at them. “Seize this heretic!”

All at once, they came. Mostly it was the ponies with the silver clasps, but a few initiates came after them, too. Twilight’s eyes darted around, searching for a way out. There were black cloaks everywhere, closing in all around. There was only one way out.

She turned to the griffon. “Time to go.”

“Wha—” He didn’t get to finish. Twilight crouched, lunged, and tackled him. At the moment of collision, they both disappeared in a brilliant flash of purple light.