Esquestria: The House of the Sun - A pony cultist experience

[ses]

You are Professor Velvet Covers.


Your fingers trace your right leg—smooth now, without a hint of the fifteen-year-old scars that had defined your physical reality. Perfect, unmarked skin that seemed to mock your previous limitations.


You'd spent years hiding your disability. Careful camera angles during school photos. Strategic clothing choices. Long skirts. Dark, loose-fitting pants. Always seated behind the desk during parent-teacher conferences. An affected fondness for a fancy umbrella regardless of weather. The leg had been your secret shame, a constant reminder of the car accident that had stolen your youth, your dreams, your sense of wholeness.


Now, impossibly, it was healed.


And a week. An entire week. Gone.


Twilight Sparkle was waiting after the final bell, something brittle in her posture that spoke of deeper wounds than simple teenage disappointment. The classroom was silent, fluorescent lights humming overhead, casting harsh shadows across the girl's face.


"You don't remember," Twilight said. Not a question.


You hesitated. "Remember what?"


The look Twilight gave you was devastating. Not anger. Not quite grief. Something more profound. The expression of someone who had been shown a glimpse of impossible liberation, only to have it snatched away without explanation.


"You looked at me," Twilight said, her voice low and intense. "Really looked at me. Not just another honors student waiting to graduate and disappear into some mid-tier university. You saw me."


You wanted to interrupt, to ask what she meant, but something in Twilight's tone stopped you.


"You promised me worlds," Twilight continued. "Spaces between the spaces we know. Ways out of this—" she gestured around the classroom, at the faded posters, the worn linoleum floor, the windows looking out on a small Canadian town that had been a cage for generations of ambitious kids— "this nothing."


The promise hung between them. A promise you had no memory of making.


"The way you talked to me," Twilight whispered. "The way you understood. It wasn't—" She caught herself, swallowed hard. "It wasn't you. But it was."


You felt the weight of a connection she didn't remember creating. The sense of something profound and impossible that had briefly touched her life and was now gone.


"I'm sorry," you say, knowing the words were inadequate.


Twilight's eyes were distant. Lost. "You showed me worlds," she repeated. "And now we're just... here."


Outside, the late afternoon light was turning golden. Another ordinary day in an ordinary town. But something had changed. Something fundamental had been altered, and neither of them knew how to name it.


You look down at your leg. Smooth. Whole. A miracle with no explanation.


Twilight gathered her backpack, a movement both defeated and somehow still hopeful. "You promised," she said one last time. Not an accusation. More like a prayer.


Then she was gone.

 

[AuthorTransient]

Spoiler: After the Fourth Regrettable Action

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Spoiler: Winning Vote

Tally
[X] Open it.
[X] You gave him a warning.

---

I thought I had seen it before.
In the shadows.
Or in my nightmares.
Or in the eyes of those who are committed to harming their fellow ponies.
But at that moment, I realized I was wrong.
I had never truly seen it, until that day.
I had never truly seen it, until it burst out of that cursed jar.​

-Memoirs of a protector.​

- - -



You are Paperflank. And right now, you are making your final preparations for… for what comes next.

"Make sure it's tight, but not too tight," the assistant armorer says, as he continues to check the equipment he is strapping to your body. "We don't want this falling off your flank or your legs, sure, but we don't want your gear cutting off your blood flow either."

You are currently in an ad-hoc Bureau outpost in Manehattan, in a temporary armory that was flown in from Canterlot just a few hours ago. All around you Bureau agents are hard at work, running this and that way as they see to all kinds of tasks.

In the last few hours, this building has become a buzzing hive of activity. Walls are being reinforced as much as they can be, in such a short period of time. Barricades are being built. Entire passages are being sealed off. And a few minutes ago, you heard that the surrounding block has finally been fully evacuated.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that this place is being fortified, yes. But here's the thing. This building isn't being secured against a threat coming from the outside.

On the contrary, all the barricades, blocks and barriers are facing the inside. Everypony's attention, and the several lines of safety that are being raised, are meant to keep something from getting out, not the other way around.

"Alright, shake your legs a bit more just so I'm sure that… yeap, you're all set. Good luck in there, Paperflank," the assistant armory says.

And after you give one last thankful nod to the stallion, you make your way out of the armory, and towards the barricaded stairs that will take you to the underground level.

You can feel your heartrate picking up inside your chest, slightly. You feel nervous, yes, maybe even afraid. But not enough for you to want to give up on this. And hopefully, not enough for you to become a liability, when it truly matters.

Because the thing is, you are a constable of the Lunar Bureau, yes. But your position and skills, even if above that of the average Equestrian constable, still place you squarely as a "rank and file" constable within the Bureau. You are not in a position of leadership, you don't really have any specialized skills, you are not an investigator, and you are definitely not a member of one of the few strike teams at the Commissioner's disposal.

And yet, here you are. Dressed from head to tail in body armor, and making your way to what you have been very clearly told will be a fight.

Because yesterday, during the raids in Manehattan, the Lunar Bureau has found something everypony is referring to as a "monster".

And today, the Commissioner has given the order that the Lunar Bureau will kill it.

…

Yes, a lot has happened during the last twenty-four hours. In fact, you are pretty sure it hasn't even been a full day yes. Still, everything is happening in a blur.

Because just yesterday the Manehattan raids were proceeding apace. Just yesterday you were with the rest of your team, cross-referencing clues and warrants as you made your way to either knock on or kick down another door. So you could hopefully find yet another member of the Gardeners criminal gang.

Just yesterday, you were involved in the raids. But then again, everypony in the Bureau is involved in the raids one way or the other. After all, Manehattan is a huge city, and the resources of the Bureau are limited. So, you are pretty sure that nine out of ten Bureau constables are here, and that a number of detectives has also stayed behind to help, despite the talk that they are mostly focused on some other task.

However, again, all of that came to a halt around the afternoon. Out of the blue, word came down that everypony was supposed to stop what they were doing and report back to their supervisors. Orders from the Commissioner herself, who apparently came to the city early in the morning.

For the first few hours, all everypony heard was that a "dangerous item" had been found. One that matched the description you were all told to look out for.

But before evening came around, everypony heard one way or the other what was truly going on.

The item they had found was not an item. It was a monster, or the cage of a monster. A dreadful mixture of a cursed artifact and genie in a bottle from the fairy tales you heard when you were a foal.

It was a monster, and the Commissioner was gathering ponies who were going to kill it.

To your surprise, you heard that the first thing the Commissioner asked to be brough from Canterlot was paperwork. And while everypony rushed to see her orders done, by securing a building and checking equipment and making sure everypony was accounted for, the Commissioner herself was apparently sifting through everypony's personal files, that were flown down from the capital. Looking for something, they said, in the details of everypony's personal lives.

What happened next was… well, everything.

A specific building in the city, an abandoned museum, was commandeered by the Commissioner herself. Because "it has an underground vault," from what you heard, and because commandeering a bank for the same thing would "take too long".

A very well-secured convoy was set up, transporting the thing they found to this newly acquired vault. Closing off every street it went through and practically galloping through the city as if the transport carriage could explode at any moment.

And finally, the entire building was sealed up and reinforced as if Princess Celestia herself had decided to make that place her new permanent residence.

But of course, the most surprising thing, to you at least, was that this morning you were informed that…



"Paperflank, you are here. Good. That makes all of us."



After passing through all the checkpoints, and noticing that more than just a few barriers were locked behind you as you made your way down, you finally reach the gathering room.

"Yes sir. Paperflank, from the fourth Constable Team, reporting as ordered," you say, giving the stallion a quick salute as you enter the room.

You are currently in the underground section of the commandeered museum. The old National Museum of Equestrian History, which you heard was moved to a more affluent part of Manehattan years ago. To be more precise, you are currently in one of the rooms that lead to the underground vault where certain pieces of art were stored, while not on display.

In this room with you, are five other ponies.

All of them are wearing the same full-body armor as you are.

But unlike you, all of them look like they know what they are doing.

Of course, it is not that you have never used equipment like this before. However, you have only worn this kind of gear during training, either during the physical examinations to ensure you are up to the Bureau's standards, or during the instruction sessions where you familiarize yourself with the available gear.

So yes, you have already put on this kind of gear.

But everypony else in this room is part of one of the Bureau's strike teams. Everypony else in this room works with this kind of gear, and maybe even bled in this kind of gear, whereas you feel more like a tourist in this kind of situation.

Everypony else in this room is maybe a full ear taller than you are. They are all either taller, or they are stronger, or they just look like they are made of sterner stuff than you are.

So, it only makes sense that you look like the odd one out.

"With respect, sir," one of the other ponies speaks up towards the leading stallion, "are you sure about this? We have two full strike teams here in Manehattan. Hay, I even told you Steel Kick and Bush Wacker wanted in. We have ponies who can definitely kick harder than him who volunteered. So why…" he finishes, waving a hoof in your general direction.

His unspoken question is obvious. It's something you don't understand yourself, and that you are sure everypony else is asking themselves as well.



Because why in Celestia's good name were you picked to be part of this team? Why in Equestria did you, a Bureau constable that by every measurable standard can be considered mediocre, received a message this morning that the Commissioner hoof-picked you for the team that would face… whatever monster they found?



You try your best to hide your frown at the pointed question, but you are sure that they are picking up on it. Still, you aren't really frowning at him for saying that. You are frowning because you agree with him.

Because sure, you weren't drafted into this. The runner made it very clear the Commissioner wanted the ponies she picked to agree to the assignment, on a volunteer basis. And you understand that this is a risk. Perhaps even a lethal one.

And sure, you understand that even though you are "mediocre" by the Bureau's standards… well, the Bureau's standards aren't exactly low either. And you know your way around a fight.

But still, you don't understand why she picked you. Especially when you are so clearly the odd one out. The only former constable in a room full of former guards. The only beat cop in a room full of ponies who spearheaded the Blueblood raid.

"He's here because the Commissioner said he should be here," the leading stallion says, shrugging to his fellow soldier. "Besides, look around you. Look at what we are working with. Two unicorns, two pegasi, and me and him make it two earth ponies. This is a textbook strike team as far as I'm concerned."

The other pony is about to open his mouth to say something. But before he has the chance, a lean and solid pegasus mare speaks up, both towards him and the rest of the room.

"That's not the only reason, lieutenant," she says. And her voice sounds so confident that everypony, yourself included, turn towards her. "I mean, can't you see what we all have in common here?"

She asks that, and waits for a few moments as she exchanges a few glances with everypony else.

And sure enough, a look of realization dawns on a few of them after she says that. You figure they all know each other, since they are all in the same line of work within the Bureau. But still, you can only wait until she finally continues to speak.

"Me, the lieutenant, and Sharp Wind over there are from the same strike team, so I can vouch for them. You two boys are from Red Team, so it's a statistical probability," she says to the stallion that first spoke up. "Can't you see? Everypony in this room… already killed somepony, in the line of duty. Everypony here has blood on their hoofs. Which also explains why the Commissioner went over our files of all things, before picking this team."

You feel your breath catch in your throat as the mare says that.

"Isn't that right, Paperflank?" she asks, turning towards you.

And for all that there is no accusation in her eyes, you still feel… tense.

Even among career constables, killing a pony isn't something normal. In fact, it's not something that should happen to begin with. Violent ponies exist, yes, but it is your duty to apprehend them and bring them to justice, and not to do anything else. And for all that killing a pony isn't a black mark on your career, it's still something that… something which everypony else thinks is…

… well, it's not something to be proud of.

Because that's just not something that ponies do.

But still, the pegasus mare is right. And you feel your throat dry up a little bit, before you answer her (and everypony else's) unspoken question.

"My fourth year serving in Baltimare. Had been on the trail of a perp for a while, investigating some suspicious deals with certain… wealthy ponies. And when I finally caught up to him, I found out he was a… he was a foal peddler," you say, earning a few serious, but respectful, glances from the surrounding ponies. "He resisted, things got ugly, and that was that."

You don't really think you need to tell them anything else.

You leave out the part where, after that, they gave you a medal and quietly transferred you to the paper-pushing side of the Constabulary.

You leave out the part where the final report from the internal investigation fully cleared you of any misdeeds, after citing evidence you never reported on.

You leave out the part where you saw red, and where you came back to your senses only after you finished drowning him on a nearby ditch.

Still, the only regret you have about any of that is that… well, you couldn't get any more evidence out of him. You were able to save his last batch of "merchandise", but after that every other trail you had went cold. You are sure you would never have been able to investigate anypony who was rich enough to fund that kind of crime. But still, you regret not finding out more about the peddler's operation.

"That… that actually makes sense," the first stallion speaks up, giving you a second look-over from hoof to head as if reassessing his first opinion of you. "But still, does anypony know anything else about this? I mean, word is that we found a monster. But instead of a rampage on the streets, we all got herded here and… well, and then we get told to wait. Does anypony even know what this is really all about?"

"Well, you won't have to worry about that for much longer, because we are about to find out," the leading stallion says. "Commissioner is going to brief us personally. So, straighten your backs everypony, I'm about to let her know we are ready."

With that, the lead stallion leaves the room, leaving you alone with the other four ponies. And you force your eyes down so you don't meet the stare of the outspoken stallion, or the pegasus mare, or indeed anypony else who is in the room.

But even that silence doesn't last for long.

Moments later, the door opens once again, and you all straighten your backs and salute as the Commissioner walks in.



- - -

"I will only ask this once. I ordered the runner that summoned each of you to be very clear about this, but I also want you to hear this from me personally. What we are about to do will be incredibly dangerous. We might get hurt, and some of us might even die. I will not hold it against anypony if you decide to leave now. Is there anypony who would like to leave?"​

You already met her before, of course. Like everypony else, she interviewed you herself during the onboarding period, and you have already seen her on occasion.

But still, now that you are once again face to face with her, you can't help but think back on the… stories, that you heard.

The first time you spoke to her, in the makeshift interview room whose only unusual characteristic was the fact it was located in Canterlot, she looked and felt like nothing but a regular mare. A thin and delicate-looking noble, who somehow landed in a position of importance like so many others. In fact, you remember thinking that the unicorn stallion next to her was actually in charge, since you had heard ahead of time a former member of the Royal Guard would be involved in the interview process.

Regardless, you remember not thinking much about her, the very first time you met her. And you remember feeling surprised, but otherwise unimpressed, when you learned she was the actual Commissioner of the Lunar Bureau.

And then, you heard… other things.

"Very well. Pay attention, everypony. I will now brief you all on what lies ahead."​

As your days in the recently-created Bureau stretched into weeks, you heard other things from your fellow constables. Tales and, well gossips, that she was strangely close to the Princess. Even after the Catastrophe. Stories of her previous image, and her strange anonymity, within the noble circles. And about her influence in the search for Princess Luna even before that.

Word around the Bureau was that the more ponies learned and heard about her, the more she felt like a ghost. A figure that somehow had been in the backdrop of Equestria all along, serving the Princesses' will in some unseen way, who only stepped out of the shadows in the wake of the Catastrophe itself because the Princesses had nopony else available that they could trust.

Naturally, you only gave half an ear to those rumors. You are more than used to barracks-talk, and you know that paper-pushers have nothing but time to make up stories in their offices, to share with the groundstompers when they return to file their reports.

But the problem was that… well, the stories just kept coming.

"The thing we are about to face is a monster. It is currently trapped, or maybe contained, inside a receptacle. But it won't stay in there for long. The receptacle already shows signs of wear and tear, and at times it feels like the creature is about to break free. We don't even know if we should, or even can, take it to Canterlot before it escapes. So, we are going to set it loose, on our terms, and get rid of it once and for all."​

You were involved with the security detail of Princess Cadance's marriage, and you saw with your own eyes how the Commissioner was standing next to the Alicorn of Love herself as she spoke her vows.

Your team was in the Bureau a few weeks ago, when the Commissioner was in a particularly foul mood, and you remember how something as small as her gaze felt like a whip on your back.

You were one of the ponies who was rushed to that small town, whose name you can't really remember, after the Commissioner was almost assassinated. And you saw the remains of the ponies that were quartered, cut into pieces like slices of fruit, after they tried to get to the Commissioner. And you know for a fact that there was nopony else in that place who could have done that, save for the mare herself.

And then of course there was the Greenhoof affair…

So, again, you have already met the Commissioner. You have already seen her before.

But you will never fool yourself into thinking that you know her.

"I must warn you, though. This monster we are about to face… this thing. It is not a pony. It is not a creature. It is not even alive to begin with. And we have never faced anything like this before. Not us from the Bureau, and not anypony else who is alive in the present age."​

And as the mare briefs you all on what is about to happen, your certainty that there is something about her only deepens.

Because the mare that is here with you right now, standing in the middle of the room as she calmly explains to you that you might all die, is not just a noble mare. She can't just be a noblemare. She is too cold, and too sharp, and too certain of what she is doing. Her thin and lithe frame isn't moving the way you have seen countless civilian ponies move around.

In fact, you only just realized that none of you questioned the fact that the Commissioner is here to begin with. Because if you had heard this story from anypony else, that some fragile noblemare was about to help kill a monster, you would have thought the speaker was insane.

But for some reason, for some insane reason that none of you can even think to question, nopony is pointing that out. Nopony thinks there is anything wrong with this. In fact, a part of you feels relieved that she is here.

Because she is not just a fragile noblemare. She is not a sweet-talking posh who tripped and stumbled her way into the Princesses' favor.

She is the Commissioner of the Lunar Bureau.

And your ears are perked up in attention as you drink every last word that is coming out of her mouth.

"The thing we are about to face is… Evil. Pure and simple. It is Evil itself. And the only consolation we have is that we can, we must, and we will kill it."​

She says that, and then she lightly taps her hoof on the ground as if to make a point.

None of you cheer. None of you smile. None of you express anything other than grim determination, and a deep understanding that this has to be done. That this has to be done, and that if you don't do this, then somepony less prepared will have to.

So, after the Commissioner takes one last look around the room, she nods to herself and quietly leaves.

The lead stallion, the lieutenant, follows after her. And you all file behind them after that.

"I will be taking point. Lieutenant," you hear her say from up ahead. "I trust you to direct the squad to support me."

And a short walk later, you reach the large and imposing doors that lead to the museum's vault.

But before you even set hoof beyond the metal doors, a chill reaches your spine, and a sickening whisper starts to caress your ears.



- - -



There is nothing left to say.

There is nothing left to do.

Now, you must act.

The seven of you are currently inside the underground vault of the commandeered museum. The doors of the vault are locked shut. The ventilation panels have all been blocked. And the closest Bureau ponies, other than yourselves, are a full level above you, tensely waiting on the top of the main staircase behind a thick set of barricades.

The room you are currently in, the vault itself, is a large circular-shaped structure. It is several ponies tall, definitely tall enough for your two pegasi to fly, which in turn brings you to your current configuration.

On the two opposite sides of the vault, close to the distant walls, are the two unicorns. Ready to use whatever spells their horns can conjure for this fight.

High above and close to the ceiling are the two pegasi. Ready to be as mobile as possible, to help however they can.

You are standing next to the lieutenant, the two earth ponies ready to stand your ground as needed.

The Commissioner herself is right in front of you, just a few paces away.

And at the very center of the vault is…

"…"​

… the very sight of it is already sickening, somehow.

At the very center of the vault, is a pony-sized jar. Marble white and so cold that even the ground under it is already coated with frost.

The jar itself is covered in thick metal chains, with a few locks here and there for good measure. Although they all look bent, or worn, or like they are about to crack thanks to the brittle frost that surrounds the jar.

And then, of course, inside the jar itself is…

"…"​

You know that sound.

You know that sound.

You recognized it the moment you heard it.

The Commissioner told you all about this. It told you the jar itself was cursed. That the creature inside it was even worse than that. And that the monster would try to get inside your very mind, telling you whatever was needed, just for the sake of tormenting you.

And true to her words, the moment you stepped into the vault, you started to hear it.

The sound of gurgling. The sound of a pony drowning.

The sound of the monster you killed, all those years ago, as you held him down with your own hoofs and drowned him in that ditch.

This sound, this ringing noise inside your ear, disgusts you. It disgusts you because it reminds you of everything you saw that day. It disgusts you because it reminds you that you failed to apprehend the ponies that truly matters, the ones that were funding that whole operation. It disgusts you… because you swear that the jar makes it sound like he is laughing even as you hear him drown.

The thing inside that jar, you know, hates you. It hates you, and it is mocking you, and it wants you to suffer. Because whatever curse or whatever spell it knows is enough to look into your mind. And it is using that power for the sole purpose of tormenting you.



"Everypony, get ready! On my mark!"



But the Commissioner's words snap you back to your senses.

You push your hoofs under you, as if trying to dig yourself into the concrete floor to get a more stable base. You let your adrenaline, and your past experiences, and the very purpose that comes from your cutie mark wash over you, as you steel yourself for what comes next.

Less than a second later, the Commissioner's horn begins to glow, and the color of her magic surrounds the chains around the jar.

And when they come loose, three things happen at the same time.

The first thing that happens is that gravity asserts itself over the chains, and they slide off the sides of the jar and towards the ground with a heavy thud.

The second thing that happens is that the lid of the jar explodes towards the air.

And the third is that a monster, a creature so foul and dreadful and old that it could only have been dragged from the farthest reaches of the pre-historic past, all but bursts out of the jar.

It bursts out of the jar, and it HOWLS as it does that.

"SEND ME TO THE MIDSTS OF MY ENEMIES, THAT I MAY DIE KILLING!"​

Its words, if you can even call them that, are almost burned into your brain. The searing cold of its sheer malice branding itself into your conscience with the aching cold of a savage frostbite.

It doesn't roar those words, because merely saying that it is roaring would not do justice to it. Instead, it is as if the very soul of that creature poured out of that jar, the moment its lid was open. Causing the air to tremble into sound, and then into words, as if that utterance was the very manifestation of its being.

As if it had poured out its very essence, its very being, with that declaration.



It wants to die.

It wants to kill you.

And above all else, it hates.



Everything around you dims into a violent fog.

An impossible wind blows from every direction.

And at the very heart of that localized storm, the harbinger of ponykind's very End looks down upon you, its eyes making it very clear that it exists solely to bring about your extinction.



[The Windigo has initiated combat]

[The Lunar Bureau will respond. Velvet Covers has placed herself as the Main Combatant]



There is no hesitation. There is no half-second spent in muted silence, as each side contemplates the other. In fact, the beast never stops moving at all.

One moment, it is bursting out of the jar and violating your senses with its muted warcry.

And on the next, it is already charging at you. It is charging at you all. Because all the motivation it needs to kill you all is the fact that you are alive.

But as if to make a point that Ponykind will not give up without a fight, you don't hesitate either.

Spoiler: Combat Rolls

Spoiler: Multi-combat rules

Multi-combat rules.

A single character is currently fighting against two or more enemy combatants, and lacks a "multi-combat" skill to engage them separately.

The individual character will only engage (and be able to wound) the enemy "main combatant".

Conversely, all enemy combatants will be able to "contribute" to the overflow of the individual character.

As always, characters will be able to "maneuver" (to escape, change the "main combatant", or perform other actions) through a test that applies Martial status or other relevant bonuses (but it will not apply Edge, since it is not a personal combat roll).

Spoiler: Combatants

Combatants

Six-pony team of constables has been generated as follows:
-One 4/4 health team-leader, with 10 +2d6 personal combat;
-Four 3/3 +1d2-1 contables, with 11 +1d6 personal combat;
-One personalized character;
-All Lunar Bureau characters possess the trait [Murderer].

[Combatants (name, health, personal combat)]
-Windigo (3/3, +55) (Solo Combatant)
-Velvet Covers (3/3, + 29) (Current Main Combatant)
-Team-leader (4/4, +18)
-Constable 1 (4/4, + 17)
-Constable 2 (3/3, +15)
-Constable 3 (4/4, +14)
-Constable 4 (3/3, +14)
-Paperflank (3/3, +11)

[A Confident Certainty: both the Commissioner and the Windigo will roll two dice, and keep the highest, every six dice rolls]



[Windigo's first roll: 63 73 + 55 (Personal Combat) – 30 (Outnumbered) = 98]

[Commissioner's first roll: 41 93 + 29 (Personal Combat) = 122]

[Team-leader's first roll: 6 + 18 (Personal Combat) = 24]

[Constable 1's first roll: 84 + 17 (Personal Combat) = 101]

[Constable 2's first roll: 59 + 15 (Personal Combat) = 74]

[Constable 3's first roll: 28 + 14 (Personal Combat) = 42]

[Constable 4's first roll: 37 + 14 (Personal Combat) = 51]

[Paperflank's first roll: 28 + 11 (Personal Combat) = 39]



[Overflow: Bureau – 27, Windigo – 0]



[Windigo's second roll: 51 + 55 (Personal Combat) – 30 (Outnumbered) = 76]

[Commissioner's second roll: 6 + 29 (Personal Combat) = 35]

[Team-leader's second roll: 14 + 18 (Personal Combat) = 32]

[Constable 1's second roll: 55 + 17 (Personal Combat) = 72]

[Constable 2's second roll: 69 + 15 (Personal Combat) = 84]

[Constable 3's second roll: 56 + 14 (Personal Combat) = 70]

[Constable 4's second roll: 85 + 14 (Personal Combat) = 99]

[Paperflank's second roll: 17 + 11 (Personal Combat) = 28]



[Overflow: Bureau – 58, Windigo – 41]

[Windigo suffers one wound (-50 to Bureau's overflow)]

It is as if a localized snowstorm just exploded out of the open jar, the moment its lid flies open.

It is a localized snowstorm, and it takes you far too long to realize that there is a head, and a body, and a thing inside that expanding fog of white smoke.

But before you realized it, the monster is already moving.

It rushed out of its prison, yes, but it also went straight for the Commissioner. Maybe because he understood that she is challenging him, or maybe because she is just the closest thing to him that is alive. Still, the nightmarish creature of snow and frost gallops towards her with flying hooves.

You are vaguely aware that it is assuming a pony-like shape, but whatever features it might have are already being contorted by its hate and its malice and the sheer speed it has as it barrels towards the Commissioner.

You can't act, you can only react. Because although the beast is rushing towards the Commissioner, you and the lieutenant are right behind her. And right now you are all but staring down at an incoming avalanche.

You don't have any time to think. You don't have any time to make a plan. Against something as violent at that, you can only survive.

You jump to the left. The lieutenant jumps to the right.

And the Commissioner stands her ground.

!!!!!

Everything around you is slowly being enveloped by mist and fog. You can still see everypony, but something tells you that won't happen for long.

However, you can definitely see the Commissioner's horn, as it shines like a sharp sun from within the rushing snowstorm.

The monster rushed straight to the Commissioner. And since it is made of snow and ice and hate, its charge caused it to stampede through the Commissioner. To the point that, right now, there is a veritable tunnel-shaped blizzard that is coursing through the Commissioner, as well as the spot you were just standing on.

But the mare herself, you can see, is unharmed. Or rather, she is standing as strong as a pony possibly could given her situation.

She is standing, her head is aimed downwards, and her horn is glowing.

And only then do you finally realize what just happened.

The beast barreled through the Commissioner, yes.

But in return, she gored her with whatever edge-sharp and sun-hot magic is glowing from her horn.

Moments later, the rest of the squad chimes in. The pegasi flying overhead buffet the storm-monster with a wind-blasts from their wings, scattering its fog-like body through sheer pressure. And an array of colorful blasts explode inside its body.

You have no idea if you are hurting it. You have no idea if you can hurt it. But if it has a body that is made out of snow and malice, it makes sense to try to hurt it by scrambling and scattering all that blizzard.

!!!!!!!!!!​

And less than a moment later, the creature howls. It howls in hatred, but also something you can only describe as pain.

But you do not dare to be encouraged by it.

Because once it is done barreling through the Commissioner, leaving the mare's frame covered in snow, and the creature's body sporting a bisecting gap where her horn gored it, the creature begins to look around.

The nightmarish monster begins to look around, and its eyes set on you.

"Watch out!" somepony yells, before the monster's ethereal snout contorts into a hateful grin.

Spoiler: In-between actions

[The Windigo wishes to target "the weakest enemy combatant"]

[The Commissioner will move to intercept]



[Windigo: 100 + 30 (Harmful action) = 130]

[Commissioner: 63 + 9 (Martial) = 72]



[The Windigo has successfully changed targets]

[Critical success! The Windigo will be "rewarded" with a full turn alone with its new target]

Somepony yells something.

Above you, the pegasi desperately flap their wings, trying to create a localized hurricane to pull the wind-made beast away.

On the corner of your vision, you watch the burned-metal glow of the Commissioner's horn moving.

But all you can see is the baleful glare of the monster, right in front of you, as it picks you out as its next target.

And for a fraction of a moment, you are alone.

"I WILL BE YOUR END"​

You do not know if the creature howled that, or if it whispered that into your ears, or if your mind just conjured those words inside your head, after dragging them from a deep and primitive part of your brain that just knows what is about to happen.

Because this monster in front of you, it doesn't really belong to this world. Not exactly.

This thing, this nightmare, belongs to this world only in the sense that a period belongs at the end of a written sentence.

Less than a second has passed. Less than a moment. But in this dreadful period of time in which your eyes have locked with that of the beast, you have come to understand all of this things in an instant.

That thing, you know, is a Windigo. A pre-historic monster. A fairy tale. A story that is told to scare foals into behaving, but that deep down ponykind knows is as real and inevitable as the passage of time and the finality of death.

It will take you. It will take all of you, eventually. One day, its hate will cover the world in frost, and everything you have ever built as a civilization will be reduced to dust.

That will happen. As you stare into the monster's eyes, you are suddenly sure of it. The same way that, even though you were inside a vault just a moment ago, you now understand that you are utterly alone, on a blasted snowscape from which you will never escape.

That will happen. You are sure of it. One day, the Windigos will take you all.

And right now, this Windigo will begin that long work by taking you.

Spoiler: Combat Rolls

[Combatants (name, health, personal combat)]
Windigo (2/3, +55) (Solo Cmbatant)
Paperflank (3/3, +11) (Current Main Combatant)



[Overflow: Bureau –8, Windigo – 41]



[Windigo's first roll: 47 + 55 (Personal Combat) = 102]

[Paperflank's first roll: 75 + 29 (Personal Combat) = 104]



[Overflow: Bureau –10, Windigo – 41]



[Windigo's second roll: 74 + 55 (Personal Combat) – 30 (Outnumbered) = 129]

[Paperflank's second roll: 57 + 29 (Personal Combat) = 86]



[Overflow: Bureau – 10, Windigo – 84]

[Paperflank suffers one wound (-50 to Windigo's overflow)]

The Windigo, the monster, charges towards you. And as you look into its eyes, you are gripped with such a chilling hopelessness that everything seems to be moving in slow motion.

But the moment the beast is upon you, the moment it is about to trample you with its snowy hooves and chilling frame, something happens.

Something inside of you cries out in defiance.

Something inside you burns.

The Windigo crashes against you like a solid wave of hatred. Sharp snowflakes dig into your coat, the warmth of your body is stripped from your fur, and the impact itself is like a kick to every part of your body that is facing it.

It hurts. It hurts. And something inside of you tells you that even a full minute in here will be enough to kill you through hypothermia or perhaps even freeze you solid.

But the Windigo's furious charge only lasts for a few seconds, as the bulk of its storm-like body washes over you.

And what is more, you don't… you do not know what just happened. You don't even know how to describe it.

But as you stood your ground, as you dug your hooves into the solid concrete, and did the only thing an earth pony could do which was hold the line, something flared inside of you. Some unexplainable warmth that came from your heart, or from your cutie mark, and that flared throughout your body.

You have no idea of what just happened. But as the Windigo sapped your body warmth with its hateful charge, it also took that gentler warmth that surged from within you. The Windigo took that from you, and it hated it.

Perhaps it even hurt it. Perhaps it even burned the beast with its touch, like its chill covered you with frostbites.

And just like that, the storm finishes passing over you. It passes over you, your hopelessness is disappears from your mind the moment you are no longer locking gazes with the beast, and you are back at reality.

You are inside the vault. Around you are your companions, and the fellow soldiers who are facing against this harbinger of the End.

And they once again pounce at the beast the moment you are no longer at risk of being hit by their attacks.

Spoiler: In-between actions

[The Commissioner wishes to become the Main Combatant]

[The Windigo will move to intercept]



[Commissioner: 70 + 9 (Martial) = 79]

[Windigo: 13 + 30 (Harmful action) = 43]



[The Commissioner is once again the Main Combatant of the Bureau]

"...-FOR YOUR AUDACITY, YOU MONSTER!"

You can barely hear what is going on. Between the raging blizzard, the howls of the Windigo, the spells being thrown by the unicorns and the buffeting winds from the pegasi, you can only barely make out the tail-end of the Commissioner's yell.

You try to move, but you suddenly realize one of your legs is stuck to the ground. Glued to the concrete by a sheet of frost.

Before you can do anything, the lieutenant's hoof is stomping down on the ice, freeing your hoof. And your ice-dry throat can't even form the words to thank you before he pulls you away from the creature's grasp.

Still, you look around, desperately searching for the creature within the localized blizzard. Trying to see where its head, and the bulk of its hatred, is manifesting itself. Because you know for a fact that it wants you. It wants you, because you are the weakest chain of the link, and murdering you will be the first step to picking off everypony else one by one.

You look around, and you finally find the hateful Windigo.

It took to the air, it is circling around the top of the vault, swiping the pegasi away with the bulk of its storm-made body. Flying in circles, at the speed of the gale, as it…

… no, wait. It's not preparing to do anything. It's not even trying to attack the two pegasi.

Your eyes go wide as you realize what the Windigo is truly trying to do.

The beast, you can tell, is trying to shake the Commissioner off.

Because somehow, somehow, she has her hoofs around its neck. And despite the ethereal nature of its body, the Commissioner's hoof are somehow straddling it, as if the mare could strangle it into submission.

Near the distant ceiling of the vault, the Commissioner's horn shines into a glare once again, and the very walls tremble as the Windigo howls in response.

Spoiler: Combat Rolls

[Combatants]
Windigo (2/3, +55) (Solo Combatant)
Velvet Covers (3/3, + 29) (Current Main Combatant)
Team-leader (4/4, +18)
Constable 1 (4/4, + 17)
Constable 2 (3/3, +15)
Constable 3 (4/4, +14)
Constable 4 (3/3, +14)
Paperflank (2/3, +11)



[Overflow: Bureau – 10, Windigo – 34]



[Windigo's first roll: 24 + 55 (Personal Combat) – 30 (Outnumbered) = 49]

[Commissioner's first roll: 96 + 29 (Personal Combat) = 125]

[Team-leader's first roll: 43 + 18 (Personal Combat) = 61]

[Constable 1's first roll: 52 + 17 (Personal Combat) = 69]

[Constable 2's first roll: 9 + 15 (Personal Combat) = 24]

[Constable 3's first roll: 62 + 14 (Personal Combat) = 76]

[Constable 4's first roll: 33 + 14 (Personal Combat) = 47]

[Paperflank's first roll: 38 + 11 (Personal Combat) = 49]



[Overflow: Bureau – 144, Windigo – 34]



[Windigo suffers two wounds (-100 to Bureau's overflow)]

[The Windigo has been defeated]

Your body is still too slow. Your insides are still too cold. Even moving your eyes hurt, from how dry your entire body is.

But you have more than enough strength to look up as it happens.

The Commissioner does something with her hoofs. And for all that the Windigo has no body, and no muscles, and no bones that could be snapped, it still lurches. The Windigo lurches hard, and then it corkscrews to the ground.

The pegasi race down towards the ground next to its snarling face, creating a wind tunnel that is all but herding that localized storm towards the floor. The unicorns coat its body with exploding, firework-like spells, fighting against any attempts from the beast to re-knit its body into a fiercer blizzard. And even the lieutenant rushes towards the action, leaving you behind after saying something your pained mind couldn't really understand.

Still, the blizzard is so heavy you can barely see what is going on. You know where the pegasi are only because their efforts are clearing the storm around themselves. And you have a vague idea of where the pegasi are because you can trace the source of their spells.

However, you know exactly where the Commissioner is. Because as the Windigo races from the top of the roof of the vault towards the hard ground, the glow of her horn remains attached to the back of its neck throughout the entirety of its mad dive.

The gale reaches a crescendo, the speed of the monster's descent becomes terminal, and despite the cacophony of noises that both drown and are drowned by its wordless howls, the Commissioner's voice somehow cut through the stentorious raging.


"BACK-"

-the commissioner's voice cuts through the blizzard, and snow, and the very monster that she is somehow holding with her hoofs-

"-TO THE PIT!"



And despite the impossibly thick fog, you somehow that at the very last moment the Commissioner readjusted her body on the creature's back. Making it so that her right hindleg is squarely on the back of the Windigo's head when it impacts against the ground. Putting the full weight of their dive on the sole of her hoof, which she slams against whatever passes for the creature's skull.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!​

Your ears hurt as the beast lets out one last howl. Not of pain, not of frustration and not of rage. But instead, it is a howl of something you can only describe as agony.

Agony over the fact that it failed to kill.

Agony over the fact it took so long to die.

Agony over the fact that that it hates and it hates and it hates.

But after that last long and painful howl… it is finally over.

…

The fog slowly recedes, the unnatural cold slowly fades away, and the great underground vault is once again visible as the source of the magical blizzard is no longer there to sustain it.

You are hurt… but you are alive. All around you, thankfully, everypony else seems to be doing alright as well. Some of the are shivering, although not as much as you, and all of them are covered in snow.

Near the center of the room, you watch as the Commissioner limps out of a small crater. The shape of her horseshoe is neatly imprinted on the hard concrete, and you can see she is not favoring one of her hindlegs. But still, her gaze is… well, it is not hard.

Actually, her gaze is almost soft. She looks relieved. She looks like a normal pony, who isn't even aware of what she just did or what just happened.

Instead, as if she didn't just drop from the ceiling with her hoofs around a creature made of pain and malice, she slowly limps her way towards you. Shooing away the lieutenant, and really everypony else, as she makes her way to your sorry self.

"Paperflank, are you alright?" she asks, with a voice so soft and, well, so worried you can barely believe it is coming from her mouth.

You try to answer, but your throat is still too dry from the flash-freezing you almost suffered. So, you nod to her instead.

"Oh, haystacks. You are not fine at all! You look dreadful. Here, let me… actually, somepony carry him out. We're taking him to the infirmary upstairs pronto. In fact, you all are going through a checkup. That's an order!"

If you didn't know any better, you would think the Commissioner of the Lunar Bureau is now fussing over you as if you were foals. But still, this is certainly just her taking responsibility for her subordinates. Which, given the fight you have been through, makes sense, and shows that she is a mindful superior.

And to be honest, you don't really have it in you to resist the lieutenant as he effortlessly lifts you to his back.

Still, as you think about… as you think about what just happened. As you think about everything you just saw, the only thing that comes to your mind is that...

"Everypony, you all did something great today. I am proud of you. All of you. Today, you pushed back against evil, and Equestria is safer for it. There are worse things out there, and there are still dark places like the one that monster came from. But today, we won. And right now that is all that matters."​

… you can only think that, truly, you have no idea of who the Commissioner is, or where she came from.

But, as the saying goes, you never heard of a Princess ever making a bad decision.

So, you now know that the Bureau is in good hoofs.

In fact, you are sure of it. You, and everypony else who hears about what happened here today.





Velvet Covers has defeated a Windigo, with the help of the Lunar Bureau. Her prestige within the Lunar Bureau has increased, and this matter has been resolved.

In the aftermath of this feat, Velvet Covers was able to introduce one of the Lores to the Lunar Bureau.

Velvet Covers has crafted the Level 1 Manuscript "Institutional Knowledge: Monster Hunting Techniques". It has been added to the Secret Library, and it has introduced the Lunar Bureau to the Lore of Edge.

The Lunar Bureau threadmark has been updated.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Dear reader, this is an "administrative" post that in my opinion warranted a threadmark.

Feel free to skip to the next threadmark to continue the story.

Spoiler: Author's notes

I am glad you all enjoyed the last update! Or at least that's what I hope happened. Still, I don't have a lot of opportunities to write combat, so I am legitimately happy you guys picked the Windigo fight.

As a personal note, at first I wanted to write it from Velvet's POV. But several factors made it that a third-person perspective would have been overall better. Hence good Paperflank taking center stage for this update. I don't expect us to see him anymore, but he is a good constable for your Bureau.

Still, I would like to point out that Velvet Covers herself had never seen a Windigo in the Wake before. And I need you all to realize that this meeting was dread-inducing even for her. (Although a non-capital D dread). Still, the fact remains that I tried my best to show that this was an encounter that warranted a boss music on the background.
No, really think about it. Here, you had a team of seven ponies. And the main combatant (Velvet herself) was rocking an above-heroic combat status. So, for all that Ponykind is big on its "heroic" units, those are still rare and sparce. In fact, your entire civilization only has three Princesses, one Shining Armor, and now one Velvet Covers.
So, even though you won, Velvet Covers is worried about the big questions. What if there were two Windigos at the same time? What if there were more? What if Windigos appear on multiple cities?
Make no mistake, there is potential for evil, and Evil, to win.

But as you said to your subordinates, today you won, and that is all that matters. And other than that, all you can do is keep strengthening the shield that the Lunar Bureau must become. One Lore level at a time.

[CHANGE OF SUBJECT]

So, I realized too late (as in, literally when you guys pointed out) that I fudged Paperflank's combat stats during his solo stint.

Thankfully, even if we used the real numbers, he would "only" have received an additional wound.

So, because I liked the fluff of how Harmony's warmth "burned" the Windigo, and because no mechanical changes would have truly occurred, I'll consider this a harmless error and not make any changes. And considering how I was already a bit miffed that Paperflank suffering "frostbites" was a bit too strong of a word, now that we all know he should have taken two points of damage, I am a lot more comfortable with the description of his wounds.

Which means, again, I'll declare this a "harmless error" and we can all move on.

[CHANGE OF SUBJECT]

In other news:
-I have been extremely, and I mean extremely, busy. Thank you for your patience!;
-Typos have been un-typoed (Windigo is an "it", not a "him", and other things besides);
-I am sure there are more typos I am still missing, so point them out if you will;
-I noted the comments that Biedde's Edge is not being applied to the Secret Library. But to be honest, I have not yet decided IF Names will influence the Lunar Bureau for now. Baldomare visited the Windhoof Club and the Master gave lessons, to justify it, but I don't see Biedde wearing a Lunar Bureau badge (yet?). So for now, no Name-bonus to the Bureau, but that is subject to change, as well as subject to certain things that might happen. But for now I'll just apply Velvet's own acts and Manuscripts to the Bureau's Lore level. Please give it more time;
-And your Knock Sacrament has been updated into your character sheet.

Thank you for your time and patience, and thank you for reading my story!

I am not sure when I will be able to write the next update, given how hectic life has been. But as has been the case so far, I'm sure I'll be able to squeeze in some time to do it.

As always, I hope you are all doing well.

 

[ses]

 

[BritBiscuit]

Its been quite a while since I've picked up my digital art tablet so I thought I'd do some fanart.
In the style of a propaganda photo inspired by Ciaphas Cain but without shading or anything because I couldn't be bothered to turn my fun drawing into actual work...

Spoiler: Ciaphas Velvet Covers

And here is the image I took some inspiration from

Spoiler: Ciaphas Image

But wow is trying to figure out how to put clothing on ponies a nightmare, after trying so hard to get the hat to work with a horn and the ear I kinda gave up on the coat.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

You are Selene, and right now-


"It's not fair. It just isn't! I mean, just LOOK at her!"


-right now, you are... trying to de-escalate a very delicate situation.

School is finally over for the day. The bell rung five, maybe six minutes ago, and half the foals of your class are still in the classroom doing this and that. Some of them are chatting, and deciding whose house they will go play in for the rest of the day. Some of them are looking out through the window to see if their parents have arrived to pick them up. And a few rare eggheads are even surrounding Miss Cheerilee as they ask some last-minute questions about today's homework.

However, you are not in the classroom. Usually by now you would be walking out of the front door with your sister, to meet up with Soft Sweeps (or more recently, uncle Steppes) so you could all go back home. But today was a little... different.

Because right now, you are outside of the classroom. Right now you are in the playground, hiding behind one of the larger trees, as you try your best to de-escalate this situation.

Right now, you are behind the large tree of the playground, hoping against hope that nopony hears all this yelling, and you are not alone.

Because there is a very, very angry Diamond Tiara here with you.

And this, really, is the short version of your problems.


"Prancing around all happy-go-lucky, practically RUBBING her flank on everypony's faces and-!"
"Can... can you at least yell a little less? Or maybe-"
"I. AM. NOT. YELLING!"


Today is the first day of school after your sister got her cutie mark.

This kind of thing has already happened before, and it's a rare but not unusual occurrence. Still, given everypony's age and the fact that maybe a third of your class doesn't have their cutie marks yet, it is not unusual for a filly or colt to come to class beaming with joy after getting their cutie mark. And it just makes sense. Everypony in the classroom is a foal, so it's normal for everypony to get excited over it, and Miss Cheerilee is more than enough experienced with this to keep the class under control and continue with the lessons, while giving the happy occurrence enough of a spotlight for everypony to be glad about it.

So, you thought the day would be just like that. You arrived in the classroom with Silky, your sister beaming with joy as she pranced in, everypony talked about it for several minutes until Miss Cheerilee got the class rolling, and then everypony swarmed your sister the moment recess started.

Everypony was happy about it. Everypony should be happy about it. It's like a shared ritual everypony knows about, like celebrating a classmate's birthday or greeting a new student who just joined the school.

But Diamond Tiara... wasn't.

Boy oh boy was she unhappy about it.

"Diamond, please... please hear me out," you plead to your friend.

"No, YOU hear me out. Are you even listening to me? Can't you friggin SEE?!"

More than just unhappy, she was angry. She was angry, and you swear you could almost feel something in her eyes the moment she saw your sister prance into the classroom.

She didn't talk to Silky for the whole day. She quite literally sulked on a corner of the classroom, forelegs crossed and all, while everypony else surrounded your sister.

And most worrying of all, the moment the bell rung, you saw Diamond Tiara get up from her seat and practically march towards your sister. Her eyes filled with a kind of anger that was just out of place in a filly's eyes. And you were sure, or rather you were sure, that Diamond was going to do something very mean and very thoughtless the moment she reached Silky's desk. Then and there. In the middle of a classroom full of foals, and a teacher, without any warning.

So, you did the first thing that came to your mind. You quite literally lifted the mutely irate Diamond Tiara on your back, and you jumped out of the window while carrying her.

A few of your classmates saw you, probably, and you heard a few giggles to the effect of "Selene being weird again". And most importantly, you don't think Miss Cheerilee noticed it, or she would be reprimanding the two of you right now.

Regardless, the fact remains that you are here... outside on the playground, trying to calm down one of your sister's best friends who for some reason is acting like the exact opposite of that.

"Am I going nuts?! Am I the only one who can see what's going one?!" Diamond Tiara continues. And for all that you wish she would yell a little lower, you are glad she only started yelling after you carried her out through the window.

But still, you are at a loss for words. Speaking was never really your forte. You are quite happy with letting your sister, or your mom, or anypony else really do the talking for you. So, it goes without saying that trying to calm down an angry filly is definitely outside of your area of expertise.

"I... you kinda are?" you say, cringing as you realize your words only made your little friend angrier.

Well, she is angry at you, now, which is good. You will gladly become the focus of Tiara's anger, if it means she isn't about to punch your little sister out of the blue after class. But still, you were hoping to dig yourself out of this hole rather than just swap places with your sister?

"I-I'm sorry, what I mean is that..." you stammer, grasping at straws as you try to figure out what you should say. "Well, why are you so angry at Silky? I mean, she just got her cutie mark. What did she do? W-why are you so angry?"

You say that, and for a moment you think you made the worst possible decision. For a moment, as Diamond absolutely glares at you, you think you are done for. And that the filly is either about to jump at you, or gallop back to the classroom to jump at your sister.

But as the filly looks at you, eyes wide in anger and lips pursed into a line, something happens. Something happens, she takes a deep and angry breath, and by some miracle she doesn't escalate the situation any further.

"Being the rich filly in school was my thing. My thing," she says, stomping a hoof at the ground for good measure. "Until a noble filly, that nopony even know existed, came along. Just like that, out of the blue."

You can practically feel the anger in her words, as she says that. No, really, you can actually feel it. Diamond Tiara is talking, or maybe growling, through clenched teeth. And you know in your heart of hearts, or perhaps from some other intuition, that if you say anything right now she will take it as a challenge, or as a reason to pick a fight with you.

So, you stay quiet. You stay quiet, and you stay as small as possible, and you even nod every now and then as she speaks.

"Having a fancy cutie mark was MY thing," she stomps her hoof on the ground again. "And then THIS happens."

You gulp something dry, and to be honest you are a little afraid. You are not afraid that Diamond Tiara might hurt you, of course. However, there is something deeply wrong about seeing a filly her age this angry. And that makes you feel...

"Making everypony listen to what you say WAS. MY. THING!" the dirt actually becomes marked with the shape of her horseshoe now. "So how is it fair that EVERYPONY IS PAYING ATTENTION TO HER?!"

Diamond Tiara says that, and then she takes in a sharp, sudden breath. Almost like a sob. And for a moment, you think her eyes were getting a little moist. But that only lasts for a moment.

Your friend blinks once, then twice, and then she shakes her head.

And just like that, Diamond looks... well, she looks less angry now. You still feel you can mess this up, if you say the wrong thing. And by the moon you know you are not good at this.

But still, Diamond Tiara looks less angry now, and maybe more sad than she was before. To the point that the silence between you is getting uncomfortably heavy. So, you take a deep breath, and hope you aren't about to put your hoof in your mouth.

"Diamond, I... you know it's not her fault. I mean, she doesn't do any of that on purpose?" you say, very carefully, hoping that the pink filly isn't about to regain her scowl and glare up at you. But still, even though Diamond Tiara is your friend, and you don't like seeing her like this, you are a little relieved to see that she is still looking down to the ground.

You hate seeing her sad and dejected like this. But this is definitely better than seeing her as angry as she was before.

"And c'mon, Diamond. Even if she was doing this on purpose, you know it wouldn't be because she was showing off or being mean about it. She can be a clutz sometimes, but you know it's just because she's happy about stuff."

There was definitely a better way to say that, you tell yourself as you mentally kick your own flank. There was definitely a more diplomatic way to express that. To remind her your sister likes to share, and not to show off. Maybe tell Tiara about one of the times where your sister's excitement got the better of her. You definitely are not a diplomat, and it is showing.

Still, Diamond lets out a cough. And you are surprised on the next moment when you realized that was actually a chuckle.

And when Diamond looks up at you, she has a small smile on her face. Although she is still not looking you in the eye.

"Yeah, Silky can be a bit of a clutz sometimes..." she says, letting out another chuckle through a weak smile.

You do your absolute best to hide how relieved you are by this. Because by the stars, how are you supposed to be a Princess if you can't even placate a filly? Still, you think Diamond you managed to calm Diamond Tiara down. But you are still not exactly sure of what to do next.

Although, apparently the correct answer was that you should have "waited". And thankfully, your awkward and panicked silence gave your friend a little more time to sort through her emotions. Because once again, Diamond Tiara gives the ground a small, half-hearted stomp, as she say something else.

"I know that, and maybe that's the worst part. I know she is a good filly. But it also makes me mad that I can't even be angry at her without being the villain!"

She says that, but then she takes another deep breath. Bringing up a hoof to her forehead as she tries to do... something.

By Equestria, you really need to ask your mom for a few more lessons on talking. You have no idea what to do next!

"I'm fine now, thanks Selene," Diamond says, and you once again bite down your awkward-relieved expression right before she looks up at you again. But still, true to her word, you are happy to see that Diamond's expression is a lot more normal now. "I mean it. I wasn't really thinking, back in the classroom. So thank you for stopping me from doing something stupid."

None of that unnatural anger in her eyes anymore. None of that alien ugliness you couldn't really describe.

Right now, you are just looking at a filly. You are just looking at a young and healthy earth pony filly, who is one of your school friends.

"You're welcome, Diamond. Anytime," you say. "But uh... is everything alright? I mean, you kinda almost blew up back in the classroom, and that's just not like you. Did anything happen over the weekend?"

You ask that, as the two of you walk out from behind the tree and make your way back to the classroom. But the only answer Diamond Tiara gives you is a... very unusual expression.

It's not an expression you have seen in a while now, but it is one you think she wore a lore more frequently when you first met her. A strange mixture of confusion and helplessness, and maybe anger that she always had when...

"Is... is it your mom again? Did something happen at your..."

Diamond winces, the moment you ask that. She physically winces, as if you had just kicked her on the chest. And you immediately understand that you are right, and also that she doesn't want to talk about it.

"I-I mean, it doesn't matter!" you say, trying your best not to think of how you just jumped out of a hole, and almost landed inside another one. "Besides, what do you say we go talk to everypony? I'm sure they must be looking for us. And who knows, maybe uncle Steppes will take us all to Sugarcube Corner again!"

You try your best not to trip on your words, and you pray to the stars that oh Moon please don't let you mess this up again and make Diamond angry at you. But thankfully (and you mean it, thankfully), Diamond's expression immediately turns into a small smile again. And her youthful innocence allows her to glaze over whatever mud puddle you almost just tripped into.

"Yeah, let's go see where everypony else is," she says, her hoofsteps getting lighter as you two walk side by side. "Speaking of which, I can't wait to see how Silky's cute-ceñeara will be like. I mean, yours was already big, but I can't imagine hers not being even bigger!"

You let out a small laugh, thinking back to how embarrassed you were at your cute-ceñeara. After all, everypony knows you don't like being the center of attention, but that Silky has no problems with that. So yes, your friends definitely agree that whatever brakes were in place during your party will not be there for Silky's.

"I mean, Silky is so much better than us mere mortals, isn't she? So of course her cute-ceñeara will be just another chance for her to rub that on our noses," she continues.

And you can detect... a little meanness in her voice? You give her an awkward half-nod for an answer, but you aren't entirely sure how to respond. Because you think this is helping Diamond let off some more steam?

She lets of a few more pointed remarks here and there. But true to her word, the moment you two reach the front of the school and see all your friends, Diamond is back to her usual pleasant self.

And you... you let out one final, thankful, sigh of relief.

Because yes, this might have been something as small as you calming down a friend. But still, you did it! You manage to make things better with just your words (and maybe the unnatural strength it took to jump out of the window with a filly on your back). But still, go you! The Princess of the Night is now one step closer to being a worthy ruler!

"Selene! Diamond! What were you two doing?" Silver Spoon is the first to notice you two, and the grey filly immediately makes a beeline to the two of you.

The rest of your friends, you can see, are currently gathered around uncle Steppes, probably as he entertains them with another one of his stories.

"Oh, just having a grownup mare's chat, Silver. You know how it is," Diamond says to Silver Spoon.

And for a moment, Silver Spoon gives you a glance that... well, you have no idea of what it means. But you wonder how much she knows, just from Diamond telling her that.

"Well, I'm glad you're not grumpy anymore," Silver Spoon says, casually confirming to you that she does know a lot more than she lets on. Well, you were told she was friends with Diamond before anypony else, so it makes sense. "And come on, Silky's uncle is going to take us all back to their place!"

"Yes, yes, Silky's family is going to take us on her victory lap..." Diamond says. But whatever meanness was gathering in her voice dissipates less than a moment later. "Well, it'll be a good lap, so what the hay. I don't mind going with her."

Diamond Tiara says that, and then she begins making her way to your friend group. You stay behind with Silver Spoon for maybe one second, and that is all the time the grey filly needs to give you a knowing wink, and perhaps an appreciative nod.

And after that, the two of you are following Diamond, as you all make your way back to your friends.



...



But then... disaster strikes.

!!!!!!!!!!​

Suddenly, a windy gale envelops the front of the school. A raging gust of wind comes out of nowhere, and everypony needs to crouch down to stop the wind from carrying them.

Moments later, something blocks out the sun for a second. And you all look up to see that there is something flying down towards you.

"Oh... oh no..." you say to yourself, as you immediately understand what is about to happen.

Because you an everypony else look up to see... a carriage.

A flying carriage.

A flying carriage made out of pink and gold, encrusted with blue and green gems. Covered with laurels made out of precious metals, and topped by tiny, perfectly-wrought statues of ponies bearing wings and horn.

"Oh no... no, no no no no..." you say out loud, not even bothering to hide your voice.

Because one moment later, everpony catches up to what is going on. Everypony finally understand what that carriage means, even if nopony can really believe it yet.

Everypony understands it. And the moment the carriage lands on the ground, everypony bows. With two exceptions.

You do not bow, because it just isn't in your nature.

And Diamond Tiara does not bow, because her body is once again locked by her anger.

After all, just a few minutes ago your friend was angry at Silky Stream. She was angry at your sister for reasons she can't really do anything about, and that she channeled into the perceived notion that Silky is... well, trying to one-up her.

You managed to talk her down of it. You managed, between fumbles and stumbles, to remind Diamond Tiara that she is Silky's friend, and that your sister wouldn't even dream about lording whatever she has over other ponies.

But how... how in Equestria would Diamond Tiara ever react... how could Diamond Tiara feel anything but anger when, moments later, she witnesses the sight of a flying carriage landing in front of Silky Stream.

And what can Diamond Tiara possibly do but bristle with rage, as she watches the door of the carriage bust wide open to reveal-

"I came as soon as I heard! Now where is my favorite filly in all of Equestria?!"​

-only to reveal Princess Cadance, the Alicorn of Love, practically storming out of the carriage and hugging your little sister. Scooping her up on her forelegs into a tight embrace, just as your own mother walks out of the carriage right behind her.

And just like that, Diamond Tiara is insanely angry all over again.

...

It seems your work of protecting your little sister will never end.

---

Awww come on! We should invite her to a tea party and introduce her to our daughters. I'm sure that will go well.

Click to shrink...

Now, now. Silky Stream is a Name Magnet. Not an Alicorn mag-...

(Looks at Silky's history of interaction with the Princesses. Two out of three in the bag.)

Well I'll be damned...

Spoiler: Author's Note

Huh. One and a half hours to write this. This definitely spiraled out of control

Anyways, I had this idea floating in my head for a few days now. I hope you enjoyed Silky Stream flaunting 10% of her power level.

And of course this is not canon. It has "in which" on its title, so that means it's not canon, right?

And it couldn't possibly be the case that this is "not canon" because I undershot Silky's real power level. Right?

Right?

In other comments, the original title of this would be "In which Silky Stream is absolute bullshit". But good fillies don't curse, so I can't see them using language like that.

I hope you are all doing well.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

You are Princess Cadance, and right now you are... fine.

You are not the impossible and unreachable idea that is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. But you are not just Cadance either.

Right now, you are exactly what you need to be. You are exactly who you need to be. Right now, you are fulfilling the role that Ponykind needs you to fulfill, and you will keep doing so until these dreadful times are finally over.

Because you are a Princess. You are one of the few ponies who have the strength, and the duty, to carry Ponykind on your back. And so you shall.

Even if... even if it gets a little tiring, every now and then.

Even if you have to make a few personal sacrifices.

"Even if it's... a bit lonely," you say to yourself, as you close your bedroom door behind you.

It is late evening already, or perhaps early night. You aren't really sure, and you know by now that looking at the clock will only make you more depressed. Because it will be yet another reminder of how much you had to do today, and of how little time you have before everything starts again tomorrow.

Of course, you aren't complaining. And not just because you can't complain. You are not complaining also because you know you are doing something good. After all, it may have taken you a while, but you think you are finally getting a hang of this. Of this complex and indescribably tense activity called "ruling". You are probably not doing it nearly as well as Celestia used to, but you are confident that with every passing day, the goings of Equestria as a whole are getting a little calmer, and doing a little better, because of what you are doing.

By the sun, you wish there was an instruction manual for all of this. And at times, you don't know if you should be going around the cities more, or if you should spend more time giving audiences in the throne room, or if you should just be doing less and hope your appearance of calm slowly bleeds down to everypony else. But still, you are no longer at that desperate early stage where it felt like everything was on fire, including the feathers on your wings, and you were just making everything worse.

Yes, you are sure of it. Ponies are calmer now. The troubles that reach you are less tragic, and easier to solve. And you feel like everypony is collectively coming to accept that the dust has settled, and that they can trust this new status quo.

And as long as everypony continue to do their part, everything will be alright.

...

Or at least, that is what you will keep telling yourself. That is what you will keep telling yourself, until you finally believe it. That is what you will keep telling yourself, whenever there are other ponies nearby looking at you.

...

But this is not one of those times.

"Shining...?" you say out loud, towards the royal apartment that you call your home. Your voice loud but cracking, like a pained whimper. "Shining dear, are you there?"

However, no answer comes to you. No dashing white stallion comes from a nearby door, with a confident smile and an understanding pair of eyes, for you to lean on. Nopony arrives that can keep you company.

Of course, you already knew that. You already knew Shining Armor wasn't here, even before you called out for him. You already knew, because he told you in advance, that he would have to go to Manehattan for a few days for work. Something about having to supervise some kind of fallout, of an accident that nearly turned into a disaster. You aren't sure of the details, but you know it wasn't grave enough to reach the throne room.

Still, more importantly, you knew your Shining Armor wasn't here. You knew you would be alone, calling out to an empty house.

And yet, you couldn't help but try, and hope against hope that something would have happened for him to be here.

But unfortunately, even if to nopony's surprise...

"... another cold night, then," you say to yourself. Not even bothering to stop the frown from appearing on your face.

You don't bother to stop your wings from sagging down on your sides, until the tip of your feathers are dragging on the floor as you walk. And you don't bother to be organized and clean, as you quite literally unclip your horseshoes as you make your way to your bed, leaving them behind like a lonely set of golden hoofsteps on the carpet.

And honestly? Maybe this is for the best.

Maybe it is good that your Shining isn't here tonight. After all, it is probably exhausting for him to have to cheer you up every night. It is probably tiring, maybe even annoying, for him to have to deal with you and your problems, after an entire day of dealing with his own troubles at work.

Maybe you deserve to suffer through these sad and lonely nights, every now and then. Because what kind of Princess wallows in self-pity like this? Not the good kind of Princess, that is for sure.

Oh, who are you kidding? You aren't really a Princess. You aren't worthy of calling a Princess and you know it. You are just a substitute. A mockery, even. And you don't deserve any of this.

You don't deserve Shining Armor. He's too good for you, and you always knew that. You always knew that, and you would never have caught his eyes if you didn't have a horn on your head.

You don't deserve any friends either. Because look at what you do. Everything you touch dies. Everypony you care for gets hurt. Just look at your track record!

You didn't notice something was wrong with Celestia, and the Catastrophe happened.

You didn't take care of Shining Armor, and he lost his horn.

And the one normal friend you ever made, who didn't think of you as a Princess, almost got assassinated because of you... but at least... at least you had the courage to do what was right, for her. After all, given how everypony who deals with you gets hurt in the end, you at least had the courage to cut her off and-


"-have you been avoiding me, Cadance?"

"AHHH!!!"


You nearly jump out of your skin. Because one moment, you were lying on your bed, trying not to cry into your pillow as you waited to fall asleep.

But now, out of the blue, you are... well, you were flying. Your wings flapped you up out of instinct, and you almost hit the ceiling of your bedroom. Still, that's not the point!

Right now you are on one of the corners of your bedroom, pressing your back against the wall. Your heart hammering inside your chest, out of surprise and disbelief and maybe a bit of panic. And your wide-open eyes are focused on the mare that is sitting on the chair next to your vanity.

Because what in Equestria is she doing here?!

"W-w-wha-? How did y-?! Velvet Covers?!" the words push each other out of your mouth as you try to say them all at once.

Because sure enough, Velvet Covers is right there. She is literally right here with you! Sitting on the cushioned chair, with a hoof under her chin as she wears a slightly intrigued expression, looking at you as if her presence was the most natural thing on the world.

But how? How did she get here?!

You have explicitly told your guards not to let her in. You told your entire staff you did not want her to contact you anymore.

And oh, what the hay. Yes, you have been avoiding her.

"Yes, it's me. In the fur. Now, again, have you been avoiding me?" she asks.

So how did she get here? And how did she know?!

Did... did Shining Armor tell her? No, that's impossible. You didn't tell Shining about this either. Cutting your friend off was a decision you made entirely in your heart of hearts. It was the only way you could think of to keep her safe.

Because she has her family to take care of. And she somehow has Princess Luna taking care of her. So, you don't need to know anything else, you don't need to fly into somepony else's cloud. And you do not need one of the few ponies you care about getting hurt because of you again.

"I-I... I mean..." you say, or you try to say, fighting against your panicked breath as your mind attempts to figure what to do next.

But you can't really think straight. Hay, you can't even see straight. And even as you try to take a better look at Velvet Covers, a part of your mind insists that she is not really there.

"I... no? I haven't?" you say, or rather you lie through your teeth.

And the way she raises an eyebrow at you makes it very clear this was not a convincing lie.

Oh shoot. Shoot, shoot, damn. Are you that transparent? Is this how this all ends? One of the few ponies you ever cared for, that you ever loved even, is going to leave you because they caught you in a lie?

However, instead of calling you out on your very obvious lie, Velvet just... smiles?

Wait, what?

This doesn't make any sense.

No, really! This doesn't make any sense!

You are a bad mare. You are a failure of a wife, and a fake Princess, and everypony you love gets hurt. And now, you just got caught in the middle of your poor attempt of cutting one of your only friends off from your life. So why... why in Tartarus is she smiling?

Why isn't she crying? Or telling you that you are breaking her heart? Or yelling at you about how she knew this would happen all along?

"Is... is this a dream?" you say. Or rather, your blurt those words out before you can really think about them.

And again, to your surprise, Velvet answers by giving you an intrigued tilt of her head.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you this was a dream?" she asks.

And before you can even think to answer, she stands up.

She stands up, and something happens.

You don't know how to describe it. You don't have the words for it. But somehow, the strange veil she had around her, that made her hard for you to look at and that probably helped her get in here to begin with, disappears. The veil around her disappears, and you are suddenly acutely aware of her presence.

"Cadance, Cadance, Cadance," she says, as she slowly makes her way towards you. And for some reason, your eyes immediately focus on the lavish ruby necklace she has around her neck. Your eyes focus on her necklace, and then on the soft fur on her chest, and then on her neck, and finally on her eyes.

Your mind doesn't even register the strange perfume that you started feeling at some point. You are only vaguely aware that something smells good.

Your body, also, doesn't realize that your heart is no longer hammering inside your chest. Well, your heart is still beating pretty quick, but for other reasons now.

"Caddy dear, you look like a pile of stress on four hoofs," she says to you and by the sun when did she get so close?! "Would you like me to... help you calm down?"

A wave of something courses through your body. And you realize that the pain you are feeling on your hind is because you are still trying to push yourself away from her. Which in turn means you are practically forcing yourself against the walls at the corner of your room.

"I-I..." you try to say, but your throat feels so very dry. Still, through sheer willpower, you manage to force the words out. "N-no."

You say those words, and for the first time since this dream began Velvet Covers hesitates. The strange pressure coming from her lessens. And given how you haven't been able to stop looking into her eyes, you notice a hint of confusion in them as well.

She hesitates, and you can almost taste the unspoken question coming from her.

But what the hay. Who cares? This is a dream, so you might as well tell her.

"I... I don't want you to get hurt," you tell her. Or rather, you confess to her. "Because I... I know that... Celestia, Twilight, Shining, and now you. Equestria as a whole, after I took the throne while Celestia was away searching for Luna. And even my... even my mother, when I was born, and my father before I became a Princess. Everypony I care for, everypony I try to take care of, gets hurt. So I... I don't want you to..."

Your voice gets caught inside your throat, and it takes you half a second to realize that was a sob. And even Velvet's expression becomes serious, or perhaps pained, as she carefully raises a hoof and... very gently wipes away something wet that was running down your right cheek.

But you don't really notice any of that. Your mind is still a little... frayed, or perhaps exposed. Because you just realized that this was the very first time you actually said this out loud. You always had this nagging impression, you always had this constant fear, that there was something wrong with you. Something that not even becoming a Princess could fix.

And now that you put it into words, now that this strange dream is letting you take a better look at yourself, you finally realize what it is.

There really must be something cursed about you. Because even when you came to this world, the first act you ever committed was to take a life of somepony you loved. That was the first thing you ever did, and you never really stopped, did you? You only got better at hiding it, at the same time this curse of yours got larger in scale.

You were, without a doubt, the very worst possible pony to ever become a Princess.

So, if you have to cut off the ponies you love to keep them safe, then so be it.

"Oh, Cadance dear. Do you really think that?" she asks.

And her voice is so empty of that strange pressure, and so filled with understanding, that you can only answer her with a weak nod. A weak, tearful nod, that only gets uglier and more wet the more you try to blink it away.

To which this dream-Velvet responds with a sight. A long and tired sigh, as if things did not turn out how she was expecting them at all.

Still, less than a moment later, she puts her forelegs around you, and brings you into the fluff of her chest for a hug.

You don't really have the energy to hug her back. In fact, you don't really want to hug her back. Because you know that the moment you hug her, this dream will probably end. The moment you hug her, this dream will end, and you will wake up to realize you were just hugging a pillow, and you will begin another day after another unpleasant dream where you learn yet another negative thing about yourself.

But you don't want any of that to happen. Not yet, at least. So, you stay where you are. Awkwardly bending down as you dream about being hugged by one of the few ponies who ever cared about you for who you really are. Feeling her gently stroke her mane as you slowly fade away into...

...

... into nothing?

Nothing... nothing is happening.

...

Why isn't anything happening?

This is being a very weird dream. Unless...

Oh no.

"Velvet..." you say, more than just a little bit awkwardly, as you try to look up without poking her with your horn. "This... this is just a dream, right? I didn't... I didn't just actually tell you that..." you trail off, realizing once again how awfully warm the ruby necklace on her chest is, that you are currently pressing your cheek against.

And a chill runs down your spine as you realize that the shudder you felt inside her chest just now was a chuckle.

"Pff. No. This is not a dream, Cadance."

And just like that, in less than a second, all the sadness and depression you were feeling turns into shame and embarrassment.

Because how the hay didn't you realize it? How could you be so deep into your own negativity that you didn't even realize that, well, that this was all real?!

You try to pull back from her. And then you try to escape her hug. And then you quite literally put your hoofs against her chest and push. But all of that is to no avail, and your dear friend's caring embrace remains as tight around you as a coffin of your own making.

"Caddy, Caddy, Caddy. How could you even think about something like that? How could you have such a low opinion of yourself, and not even try to share it with anypony?" she says, whispers into your ears really, with words as smooth as silk. "Why didn't you share any of this with me?"

Dear Celestia this is so embarrassing and her hug is so comfortable and why in Tartarus can't you let go of her?

"And to think you were really avoiding me, after you made me promise not to leave you? No, no, no. That just won't do. It won't do at all! But don't worry dear, I'm here for you now."

You are not afraid to say that you love other ponies. You are not ashamed of saying you love Shining Armor as a husband, and you are not ashamed of saying you love Velvet Covers as a friend.

But dear sun you have never felt so ashamed before.

"I know just what you need."

That is the last thing she tells you. That is the last thing she needed to say.

After that, you don't remember being able to tell her no anymore.



- - -


[You have successfully checked in on Cadance. She is alright now.]


- - -



But there is something about you, right now, that gives more options than usual.

So... what exactly did you do again?



[] Turns out, she just needed more friends.

Spoiler: A true true friend helps a friend in need

Stormchaser wasn't sure he would ever get used to this.

He wasn't complaining, but still it was something that just wasn't a part of his world.

For as long as he had lived in this house, he was used to arriving home from work through the window of his bedroom. Usually to the sight of his sleeping wife, and sometimes to the sound of breakfast being served downstairs. But still, as a pegasus, he was used to being somewhat free to come and go from his own house, with his wings.

But now, he has to land outside the walls, and come in through the front gate like everypony else.

Again, he isn't complaining. And he understands this is for safety reasons. But still, it is... something new.

Regardless, he can finally say that he is home.

It is early in the morning, and Stormchaser has just returned home from another couple of days at work. Like everypony else, he passes through the security station by the main gate, and makes his merry way to the central mansion.

A few servants bow down to him here and there. Probably the ones who have arrived recently with his brother-in-law. But still, he mostly ignores them, and makes his way through the entrance hall.

With a light skip on his hoofs, and the familiar happiness of a stallion returning home to his wife, he goes up the stairs, makes his way down the long corridor, and enters the master bedroom without knocking.

!!!!!

And then he is immediately frozen into a shock at the sight that was waiting for him.

"Shhtormy! Tha-... that's my shtormy! That's my hushband! You see that Cadance! That'sh my stallion!"
"Velvet... I don't think I can drink anymore..."
"[GRAIL]!"​

There are mares in his bedroom. There are mares on his bed.

One moment, he was a calm and happy stallion who just returned home.

And on the next, he is now face to face with...

Well, with his wife.

And a Princess.

And a pink-purple mare, with a grape-like cutie mark, who he had never seen before in his life and who is completely passed out.

And fair Mareinette, who is the only pony who isn't out of place and who can do no wrong.

But still, still!

"Come join'us Shtormy! Haaaave a drink! We jusht got back from a girlsh night out! Caddy here neeeeded it. And we... we..."

"Velvet I think... I think I'm gonna... I think I lov-..."

His wife says that, and then the Princess of Love (who for some reason is still on his bed, half-lying on his wife) tries to say... something.

And then the two of them pass out. Joining the purple earth pony mare in sleeping away what looks like several bottles' worth of alcohol.

Leaving him there... completely shocked and...

"[MOTH]?"

Well, at least good Mareinette is still here. And she seems to be as awake and reasonable as ever. Why, she even just asked Stormchaser if he is alright!

"I am... fine, my Lady. Thank you for asking, I guess..." he says, not really being able to take your eyes from... "But, uh, are they alright? Did anything...?"

"[LANTERN]!"

Stormchaser expresses his concerns, but fair Mareinette immediately tells him everything is fine. She tells Stormchaser it is fine, and that they all just had a girls' night out, as his wife said, and that they didn't do anything Mareinette wouldn't have approved of.

Which can only mean, without a doubt, that they all had a night of reasonable and respectable fun, probably to blow off a bit of steam from their understandably stressful jobs. After all, Lady Mareinette can do no wrong, and neither can his wife. Or the Princess of Love, of course.

...

Stormchaser still doesn't think he will... tell Shining Armor about this, whenever they meet again.

"[WINTER]!"

Still, he can only watch in muted shock as Mareinette carefully covers his wife and an alicorn with a few of the available covers, before the mare herself silently crawls out through the nearby window after saying her goodbyes.

Leaving him... there.
...

... Stormchaser was absolutely sure he would never get used to this.



-Princess Cadance has been introduced to Mareinette. The two of them, it seems, have a lot in common.
-Through your invitation, and Mareinette's marinations, Princess Cadance has been introduced to the Lores.
-This is still a very shallow introduction, but this is the way to get this particular ball rolling.

[] Turns out, she just needed you to take off your dress.

Spoiler: See? No need to use just your eyes. You can touch it!

Shining Armor was happy to finally be back home.

The last few days were, for lack of a better term, quite dreadful. Literally dreadful. Because the reason he was sent to Manehattan was...

Well, at least nopony got too hurt. Paperflank is set to make a quick recovery, according to the doctors, and there were no signs of other similar jars as he wrapped up the Manehattan arrests.

Although he was not sure he would ever forget what he felt, when he entered that underground vault. Everypony told Shining Armor that was just an echo of what they felt on the day it happened. But still.

He wondered if that ice will ever melt, or if it has some magical property to it that will stop it from ever truly going away. Well, the specialists told him their spells were working, even if slowly, but he hopes they follow his instructions to the letter and seal away the meltwater as a cursed substance.

But that is neither here nor there. Shining Armor's work week was finally done, Manehattan was finally done, and he was finally back home.

Which also meant he was finally back to his wife!

"Honey, I'm home!" he said, as he closed the door behind him. It was a cliche saying, he knew, but still that was how he felt.

Because he loved his wife. He loved his Cadance! And he already felt better just from the fact he had stepped a hoof back inside his home.

However, to his surprise-
"Oh, shi-!"
"Wait, I can-!"
-he swore he just heard something from behind the bedroom door.

Well, it was already late at night, but he was sure that Cadance was still awake. So, his tired mind just confirmed to him that he had just heard his dear wife say something.

So, with a relaxed stride and calmly happy stride, he made his way to his bedroom.

And as soon as he opened the door, he saw-

"Shining! Shining dear, it is so good to see you!"

-he saw his beautiful wife.

He saw his beautiful wife, and nothing else.

"Cadance, love. I missed you so much!" he said, immediately giving her a kiss.

Although, he couldn't help but notice that...

"But you do look a bit out of breath," he noted. "Is everything alright dear?"

"Yes! I mean, yes. Absolutely. It's just that Velvet here was showing me her flank a-"
"I did no such thing and I wasn't ever here."
"-I mean, I was just... waiting for you, dear!"

He listens to his wife as he explains to him why she is out of breath, and why her mane is so disheveled, and he could have sworn that...

He could have sworn that something just happened.

But of course, there is nopony here but himself and his wife.

And he definitely didn't just see anypony sneak past him, and gallop down the entrance room and out through the door.

So, there is nothing else to do but get home, spend some time with his wife, and have a peaceful night of sleep.

"So, how was Manehattan Shining dear?" his wife asks, as if she was very interested in making him talk about anything else other than her.

And of course, Shining Armor is more than happy to comply.



-You have shown Princess Cadance your flank. And she was delighted to see it is now healed and whole.
-You have revealed to Princess Cadance the existence of "The Forge's Redemption" Ritual.
-She will, no doubt, ask you for a favor come next turn.

[] Turns out, she just needed some happy company!

Spoiler: A surprise, for sure, but a pleasant one!

Velvet Pride was... well, he would never admit he was miserable.

But he was not happy.

And how could he be happy? How could anypony ever be happy ever again? How could a single pony in the Velvet Estate feel any positive emotion... when she is gone?

How dare the sun shine, or the moon glow, or the stars glimmer, when their light is not being reflected in her eyes?

In the eyes of that rare and radiant mare, whom the Princesses named Axe?

...

Like always, the news didn't exactly reach him. It is not that somepony told him she was gone. It was just that he had not seen her in several days now.

So, he waited. He waited, and he sulked, and he kept on living one day at a time. Keeping to his chores, and hoping against hope that he would see her sooner rather than later.

After all, his uncle Steppes has the right of it. Fair Axe is a free spirit, and she is not beholden to him. It is just like his uncle says, that he should try to tie her down before she runs away forever. But alas, he lacks the courage. He lacks the courage, and now he is paying for it.

So, like always, there is nothing he can do but continue his work, and try to make a better stallion out of himself, so he can be more prepared for when she returns.

If she returns... he hopes she will return...

But his sister has not given him any guarantees of it, and he dared not ask his pegasus niece if she knows anything else.

"Well, at least there is no shortage of busywork to keep my distracted here," he said, as he looked down at the unexpectedly large amount of paperwork the plantations have created for him to do.

However, before he can even light up his horn to pick up his quill-

"Master! Master Pride, somepony is here! It is urgent!"

-his faithful Cantrip quite literally bursts in through the door. Yelling for his attention.

Had it been any servant other than her or Subtle Glare, Pride would have immediately admonished them for their disrespect. However, he has a particularly deep trust for Cantrip, and the good maid has been nothing but kind to him. If he didn't know any better, he would even say that she is like a friend to him.

But he knows better, and he knows nobleponies like him can have no such things as friends, so he is content with having her serve as she does.

Moreover, he trusts Cantrip enough to know she wouldn't have burst into his office without good reason.

And since she just said somepony is here, he can't help but feel a surge of hope welling inside of him.

"What is it? No, who is it? Has the beautiful Axe finally returned to us?!" he asks.

But unfortunately, Cantrip replies with a shake of her head.

"No, lord. It is a messenger. A messenger from the crown!" she says. And his hopelessness is quickly smothered by a different sense of urgency. An agent from the crown? Here? Asking for him?! "A Royal Guard has come to the estate, and he brings word that a Princess is coming! Our estate shall be the host to Princess Cadance!"

His eyes go wide, but his strict training quickly takes over. And in but a moment, Velvet Pride is already up from his seat.

"That is... good sun, that is certainly news. Where is the guard? Did he bring a written letter? I must thank him for the forewarning. But how many weeks we have to prepare? I must set the servants to work immediately if we are to host a Princess here!"

"That... that is the thing, Lord," Cantrip says, as if something Velvet Pride had said was both expected and unfortunate. "The Royal Guard did not bring us a forewarning of weeks, or even days. The Princess of Love... has just landed in Ponyville. He was a pegasus of her entourage who brought her in her carriage. She, and your Lady Sister, are meeting your niece at her school. And they will arrive within the hour."

Velvet Pride's blood goes cold as he hears that. To think that he will be hosting a Princess? To think he will not even have a mere week to prepare his humble estate for such noble a presence?

He is shocked. Shocked! More than that, he is also at a loss of what to do. There is no time to prepare a feast. There is no time to have the pegasi turn the gardens into a localized spring at full bloom. There isn't even enough time to wash all the floors and furniture!

And there is no time to salvage whatever little standing he had with the crown, that he is certainly about to lose for being such a shameful host.

Alas, Velvet Pride can now only wait for his coming execution. At least his beautiful Axe will not be here to witness his downfall.

And somewhere, in the nearby town, a Princess is busy hugging a filly.

And as always, life goes on.



-Princess Cadance spent a few days in your home, taking some much needed time off form work, and rejoicing with your recently cutie-marked daughter.
-According to the mare herself, she will probably officially declare herself Silky's godmother one of these days.
-Yes, that is something she can do, just like that. She is a Princess! Who is going to stop her?

All jokes aside, and all insinuations that will never ever be either confirmed or denied aside, Princess Cadance is doing better now, following your brush with death.

All options will have that effect. All options will at least "Make Cadance better".

However, think very, very, very carefully about what option you will pick. The only option with no risks or possible drawbacks is meeting Silky Stream. All other options have consequences that you should think about, and that can be good, bad, both or neither. Read this entire line again.

Twelve hours moratorium. Not a high-stakes vote, but it was posted at an awkward time. Vote by approval, so pick however many you like. Also, there is a small chance I either change or add some options before the moratorium is over. You will be warned if that happens.

As always, I hope you are all doing well.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

It is morning, in Equestria and beyond. And just like everywhere else, the bright sun is gracing the skies of Canterlot.

And just like every other morning, a small ritual is taking place within the Royal Castle.

It is a ritual of respect, and reverence, and maybe even a little magic. Although not the kind of magic that contravenes the laws of this world.

Instead, it is a formality, or perhaps it might be better to call it a "ceremony". Still, it is a sequence of events that is both practiced and revered, meant to give both respect and thanks to those who sit above mortal ponies. A way to remind everypony present that, despite their benevolence and grace, their rulers and guides are still their betters.

Even if they are too humble to admit it, or even think about it.

Still, like it happens almost every day, the ceremony once again begins.

The trumpets sing, the banners flow, legs bend down into kneeling, and the practiced hoofs and proud hearts of armored guards ensure that everything is as it should be.

And once more, the doors of the Throne Room swing open.



"Hear ye! Hear ye! A Princess comes before you!"



The throne room is full, as always. Full, but not crowded. With rows upon rows of ponies from all walks of life, some dressed in expensive and noble garbs while some wear nothing but the fur on their bodies. All of them waiting for the chance of an audience before the throne.

And of course, all of them are bowing down at the presence of the one who will guide them.

All of them are bowing down to you.

At the very end of the short trumpet-song, you cross the wide-open doors. And you make your way to the throne itself.

However, there is something else going on today. There is something else, something new, that follows you into the throne room. Something that nopony here has ever felt before.

Something that was not part of the ceremony, and that is certainly not part of the practiced routine of anypony who frequents this most noble of places. But still…

… still, it is something that is felt, and appreciated, and even welcomed nonetheless.

It is the tiniest hint of grace that wafts from you like perfume, and that makes the throne's advisors, and then the guards, and then even the most distant of audience-seekers, smile. It makes them all smile just a little more when they feel it.

It is that melodious tone that came from your hoofs just now, as you walked into the room, as if you were also dancing to the last few notes of the trumpet-song that hailed you. A dance that, somehow, was so subtle and so beautiful that nopony was really sure if they imagined it or not. And yet, they can still hear it on your hoofsteps, as you ascend the steps to the throne.

Why, some of them think they will never stop hearing it, ever, whenever you walk.

These things, this new presence that surrounds you as you sit on the throne, is a tiny secret that you hold. A hushed whisper, that you can now use to guide these little ponies.

But more than just that, you feel… fine. You feel great!

You feel lush and you feel revitalized and most importantly you feel ready to help all these ponies before you feel the same way.

"Princess Cadance, you look…" the mare standing next to you, one of your advisors, speaks up without thinking. Or rather, her expression makes it clear that the words just flowed out of her mouth.

But of course, she quickly realizes what she was doing, and places a hoof before her mouth as she clears her throat. Embarrassedly raising the scroll she has on her other hoof as if suddenly very interested in reading from it.

"My apologies, my Princess. I just meant to say I hope you had a wonderful night of sleep," she says. Although you can see she is still stealing a few glances at you every now and then.

But you don't blame her. You stop yourself from letting out a soft giggle. But still, you know exactly how you must look like, in her eyes. In her eyes, and in everypony else's eyes.

Why, everypony else in the throne room is acting the same way! They are all looking at you, with eyes that hold much more than mere expectation. And for all that they know this should be just another day of "business as usual", they can't help but feel that something else is going on.

In fact, they are all so fascinated that the throne room itself is entirely quiet. There is not a whisper or a hush coming from anypony, not from the conceited nobles who would be vying for your attention by now, nor from the worried townsponies who traveled from afar to have their concerns heard.

A soft smile graces your features, and you give another wave to your assistant, signaling for her to start the day.

"Y-yes my Princess, but of course," she says, finally reading from the scroll she had been pretending to look at this whole time, while she was busy stealing glances at you. "The first order of business is from a representative of Tall Tale. They wish to express their concerns about certain occurrences that are happening in their city."

She says that, looking up at you expectantly once she is finished. And you try not to smile at how happy she is when you give her an approving nod.

Still, you have work to do. So, you turn your attention back to the crowd and you watch as the representative from the named city comes before your throne.

"Princess Cadance, I thank you for this chance, and for a moment of your attention," he says, as he gives you a deep, full-body bow.

After which you open your mouth to answer his greetings, before you engage in business proper.

But of course, the melodious sound that comes from you is none other than-

"[GRAIL]!"​

- - -

- - -

- - -





You are Lady Velvet Covers, and you just woke up.

You just woke up, and you are in a… rather unfamiliar place.

Of course, you have already been here before. But you see, there is a bit of a problem when it comes to describe where "here" is, exactly.

Because you have already been "here", in Cadance's room.

And you have already been "here", in Cadance's bed. Or at least you are pretty sure you already sat down here, once, when you two were talking during one of your visits.

And when you really think about it, you have already been "here" between Cadance's forelegs.

But well… when you add two and two together… this is rather unfamiliar, when taken as a whole.



Because this is the first time you wake up, in Cadance's room, on Cadance's bed, and between Cadance's forelegs.



However, any shock or concern you could (or maybe should) be feeling right now is immediately crushed by the splitting headache you are feeling.

"Dear heavens I…" you mumble to yourself, as you try your best to suppress this pain.

And moments later, perhaps because of your mumbling, something very soft begins to move next to your face.

You never really appreciated how Cadance is slightly larger than you are, especially given how you are a tall mare yourself. However, you definitely did not mind being the party that was hugged for a change.

Because heavens, her chest fur is so soft. It only adds to your pain to realize that her forelegs are moving, and that she is now moving away from you.

"I… we have to… can't just…" you hear Cadance's confused voice, and you can't help but laugh at how her tone is just a little hoarse. Both of your throats, you figure, are probably bone-dry right now.

Still, you help the mare untangle herself from you, and you watch as she walks -and almost stumbles- out of bed.

Until finally, she lays her eyes on you again.

And for some reason, they go wide in shock.

"V-Velvet?!" she says, as if expecting somepony else entirely to be where you are right now.

Oh, right, she is married.

Wait, you both are married.

"I guess," you say, trying not to wince at the effort.

But thanks to Cadance's fortitude, you can tell that she is recovering a lot faster than you are. Which means she doesn't have, like you do, a headache stopping her from fussing about the little details.

"But I… but we…! W-wait, what did we do last night?!" she asks, as she takes a better look at… well, at everything.

"Probably had a few drinks?" you half ask, half answer.

Because what else could you have possibly done?

"Yes, I remember that. But… but how are we here? I-I… I remember us arriving at Ponyville, and then you introduced me to some of your friends, and…" she trails off, as if too scared, or maybe to embarrassed, to say out loud whatever happened next.

Which in turn reminds you that, alicorn or not, Cadance is still a neophyte when it comes to certain habits. In fact, you wouldn't be surprised if this was the first time she ever drank too much.

Hard to remember that despite being a Princess, she never really had a noble upbringing.

Well, you'd better help her out here. Or at least not let her be too hard on herself.

"Oh, don't worry Cadance," you say, still trying to either nurse or ignore your headache. "You aren't the first alicorn I slept with."

That… probably didn't come out exactly how you intended.

But in all honesty, your head hurts too much for you to care. Or for you to realize how embarrassed and blushing Cadance is right now. Or the fact that her wings are-

"W-wait, do you meant to tell me that you… and Princess Luna…?!" Cadance says, and you swear she is taking a half-step back for some reason.

But you really don't have it in you to figure out what is going on right now.

"I mean, there was this time Selene got sick. I didn't leave her side for several days, until she got better, so of course she slept on my bed," you say, waving an impatient hoof at her.

And you think you hear a relieved sigh… probably… maybe… you don't really care.

"Anyways, I don't think either of us can work today. I mean, I definitely can't," you say.

To which Cadance answers with such a loud gasp that it actually hurts you.

"Oh no! Look at the time!" she yells, directly into your ears as far as you are concerned, as she begins rummaging around her room. "It's past midday, and I have so much to do!"

She says that, as she starts… well, you can't really follow her around. Your eyes are still too busy looking at the sole of your hoofs.

But still, as your memories of last night continue to slowly trickle back into your head, despite the several conflicting versions that you can remember, you also finally manage to get a better grip of yourself.

Which means, in turn, that you also remember why you just had this mare's night out with Cadance.

And that is more than enough for you to anchor yourself, through your concern towards Cadance, to say this next.

"Cadance," you try to say, massaging the side of your head one last time before daring to open your eyes. "Cadance." You say again, as you force yourself to follow her around the room with your eyes, as she tries to put on her horseshoes, comb her mane, and straighten her tail all at the same time.

Only to realize she really isn't listening to you. The poor mare, you can clearly tell, is already back at her panicked-work mode.

You think you also detect a hint of shame in her expression, whenever she glances towards you. But you have no idea why.

"Cadance!" you say again. And something in your tone finally makes her stop. Her cheeks going red once again, for some reason. "Cadance, dear, I really mean it when I say this. Please take the day off? You need some time out. Trust me when I say you do," you finish.

And despite Cadance's unreasonable dodginess, and strange unwillingness to look you in the eye, she actually… listens. Or at least, she stops trying to multitask herself into a semblance of good appearance, and starts actually listening to you.

"But… but I have duties to attend to, Velvet. I can't… I'm a Princess, remember?" she says, although you can tell that even saying those words is a little painful to her. As if she is forcing herself to say that, or as if those words somehow carry a burden on their own.

And of course, you know exactly why she feels that way. In fact, the more you remember what she told you last night between drinks, the more confident you are that you really need to make her cool down for the rest of the day.

"Equestria won't crumble like a house of cards if you take one day off," you say, daring to get up from the bed, and giving yourself a satisfied nod as you confirm your legs are not wobbling under you. "Besides, don't you remember?" you ask.

Because sure, enough, as you think back to last night…

"Mareinette said she will take care of your chores today," you say, giving her a confident smile.

And sure enough, as soon as you mention your now-mutual friend, Cadance's own expression begins to shift. Her sad and worried and tired face slowly turning into something that vaguely resembles a smile.

To which you let out a small sigh of relief. Yes, you will get there. Even if it takes you the entire day.

Also, your mind doesn't even stop to think about what you just said right now. You do not feel any sense of urgency, or surprise, or dear Mansus what were you thinking when you introduced an Alicorn to a NAME. None at all! After all, Mareinette is now Cadance's friend, and she can do no wrong.

So, you gently place a hoof on Cadance's shoulder, and try your best to keep her strangely embarrassed gaze, until she finally…

"Fine… I suppose I could take today off," she says, almost as if afraid a storm would break out if she said it too loud.

But still, you did it! You did it, you have a full day ahead of you that you can spend making sure Cadance rests, and everything will be alright moving forward.

"Wonderful!" you say. "Now, why don't we go take a shower and-"

"A-ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Cadance yells over you. And the only reason it doesn't hurt your ears is because her words are strangely honeyed and pleasant.

Still, goodness gracious, what is wrong with Cadance today? What could have possibly happened last night for her to be like this?

Oh well, you may never know.

Still, something else comes to your mind…

Because now that you think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to explain to her a few things, and help her catch up to speed with what you have going on.

Spoiler: Winning Vote

Tally
[X] Turns out, she just needed more friends.

Cadance is doing better now. You have successfully cheered your all of your friends up, following your Dance with Death.

You have spent the rest of your day catching Cadance up to speed. You did not tell her everything (there was not enough time), nor did you tell her about your Regrets. Still, Cadance is now Level 0 on all her Lores. Although she does not yet know about Rituals, summons, or details about the Mansus other than of their existence.

You have introduced Cadance, the Princess of Love, to Mareinette, Our Lady Of Wires. Given your relationship with each individual party, the fact that you were the one introducing them made them immediately like each other.

Mareinette is now interested, and has access to, Cadance.

You will now have the option to vote on "The Moods of Mareinette" during your voting period.

Spoiler: The Moods of Mareinette

From now on, during the turn planning period, you will have access to actions of "The Moods of Mareinette".

You will have to pick one of the available options every turn, and the nature of those options may change or evolve. But at least one of the available options will always be free.

It is no secret that Mareinette is interested in you, but it also stands to reason that she expects you to reciprocate her interest, and that she will not wait forever. These options will reflect your actions for the turn, and will educate both yourself and Mareinette on how you wish your relationship to evolve.

Your options for the Turn 22 voting phase will be as follows:

[] Mareinette is her own mare, and Cadance could use some company. Don't do anything, and see how things turn out.
-You will not take any particular action this turn.
-From what you hear, Mareinette will be more absent from your home than usual. Something about spending more time in Canterlot.
-This is a free action, and will not interfere in Mareinette's ability to serve you.


[] You introduced her to Cadance, yes, but you are still very interested in her endeavors.
-You will signal to Mareinette that you are still interested in your ongoing relationship. She will hold you for that.
-From what you hear, Mareinette will continue to mostly lounge in your estate and wander around Ponyville. To the delight of the farmhoofs that adore her.
-This is a free action, and will not interfere in Mareinette's ability to serve you.

I will "catch up" to the thread in a few hours, finally seeing any pings addressing me and threadmarking what needs to be threadmarked. Thank you for your patience.

More to follow.

 

[spiderhellian]

A Dinner With Spoiled Rich

You are Spoiled Rich.

You know where you've come from. The muck, the squalour, the filth that once tainted your hooves. Thankfully, that is in the past now, by no small amount of effort on your part. You are grateful every day to have left your parent's hovel behind.

These days, you breath more rarified air and walk more luxurious estates. The lawns are well-trimmed, for the gardener knows he will get a talking to, and wages docked, if it is not. The people are courteous, and entreating, and treat you with the respect you are due (that you were always due). And of course, you spend time with more elevated company these days -- such as the person you're going to visit now.

Of course, such an elevation comes with attendant responsibilities. This is what you're always trying to teach Diamond, but your ~~stupid~~ silly husband constantly slips up. Really, it's two steps forward and three steps back with your daughter, but you will not fail at teaching her what really matters in this world.

These responsibilities are never more evident than when attending a formal dinner. They begin weeks in advance, when you first receive the invitation, dark red ink on creamy white paper. Your response should be prompt, excited but not overly enthusiastic. Then you must find a suitable gift, either to bring at attendance or to deliver afterwards (but this must always be purchased ahead of time). Wine is an insult to their own cellars, flowers fade and with them any friendship. A bracelet is out of the question, since your daughter remains precisely useless, unable to provide a scrap of information on the size of Silky Stream's fetlock (it would be gauche to purchase one that didn't fit). So ultimately, you settled on a painting -- a lurid sunset, in vIolet and red and pink -- to be delivered afterwards. You judged it good art, at least by the only metric that matters.

And that is only the beginning. Yes, each piece of cutlery must be used properly, Diamond, and you will not leave that chair until you do so! Yes, you should consider where the conversation might go in advance, but it should never feel rehearsed. And you should make sure to take a polite interest in who else might be attending -- though thankfully, that will not be relevant tonight.

For tonight, you are the Lady Velvet Covers has invited you over for dinner, to dine with her alone.

---

You have come to know Lady Velvet well over the past few months. Perhaps in the aftermath of that horrid attempt on her life, she too has been reminded of what matters. Her visits to your estate are so lovely, for all that Diamond makes a fuss afterwards. You have such an incredible time that the hours blur by: the conversation is witty, the delight all-consuming, and your horrid husband at least has the good sense to mostly stay quiet. And after every such evening, you know -- you're one step closer to the thing you've always been striving, and one rung up on the ladder you've always been climbing.

She's charming. She's bewitching.

She's enchanting. She's ravenous.

She's an unending fount of wisdom. She's unceasing.

You are simply delighted that she is your friend, and you are hers. Not least because of what it says about her good taste for your refinement.

It would not do to have that familiarity encourage you to be sloppy, however. Yes, that is the mistake the other members of your family constantly make! Diamond believes because she is well off, and popular at school, that is enough. Your husband believes because he is well off, and popular in the town, that is enough.

Well, they're wrong. It's not enough. It would never be enough. You can always have more, and you need to.

It is good to be getting away from them for an evening. Velvet -- Lady Velvet understands this. She has taught you some of its finer details, even.

And so, despite the seriousness of the occasion, a smile graces your face as you trot up to the Manor's gates.

---

A butler quickly receives you -- not as lazy as your own staff, but he failed to doff his cap, how disrespectful! -- and leads you to your destination. Ah, Lady Velvet had mentioned she wanted to make an occasion of this dinner, and perhaps she expects it to run long into the morning. That would explain why she has not arranged it in the main house itself, but in one of the off-buildings. It's the kind of thing a lesser socialite might take offense at, but you understand its deeper meaning.

The butler opens the door, and a breath of hot air rushes out. He wrinkles his nose, clearly failing to appreciate the fine perfume that scents the air. You step inside -- and though you do not show it (right?) you are taken aback.

Tall candelebras are arranged against the walls, light and shadows flickering in the aftermath of the breeze. The curtains are draped in a lush crimson. The table is solid and oak, and lined with plates of fine china (which will not be empty for much longer). The chairs -- the chairs are wide, and adorned with pink cushions. A touch peculiar, ah, but she must be expecting that by the time the night is through, the two of you might seek to sprawl in your luxuriation -- how thoughtful.

At the table's far end sits your friend. Your confidant. Your ally, your advisor, your beacon of light amidst Ponyville's oppressive darkness.

The person you have undoubtedly spent so much time with over the last few months. Who left you feeling so excited, and the world so lush with possibility. Like all you desired was in reach, and all you had to do was reach out and take it. Yes, no one could have done that but the Mare in front of you, so undoubtedly she did.

"Rich! I have been looking forward to this all week!" Velvet says, greeting you with a smile. Your husband might be Filthy, to her, but you are always Rich. And glad of it. "Please, come in," she says, "And have a seat!"

You sit down, the cushions plush beneath you. You talk of all sorts of things -- the goings on in the Mayoral office, what must be done about the ruffians flooding the city, the ineptitude of your daughter, all the usual subjects. Your wine glass is never empty, and the conversation never runs dry.

But the dinner is not yet served, and almost an hour in, you faintly broach that topic. "Are we waiting on some thing for dinner?", You say, "Or are the kitchen staff just running behind? Chefs can be so lazy sometimes."

Velvet raises her brow, and shakes her head. "No," she says, "There shouldn't be any issues. I've simply been en--" she pauses, and then continues, "savouring this moment."

She shakes her head, and for a moment, her expression turns sad. Regretful. More than anything, it reminds you of your mother's face, the last time you saw her. All those decades ago.

But before you can inquire, the smile has returned to her face. "There is just one thing to do before the two of us can eat, Rich. Come with me."

She rises, beckoning you, and you follow her to the rear of the building. You are refined, ladylike, dignified as you do so. Not pestering her with questions (how ever curious you are), and not allowing your stomach to utter a single treacherous rumble.

You follow her through a doorway. And you walk into wall of heat.

There is a fire roaring in the back of this kitchen? Yes, it must be a kitchen, even if it looks a little more sloppily assembled than you'd expect. Mismatched tables carry cutting boards and a dizzying array of knives, pots of different colours and sizes are burbling atop stoves, and the whole room is dominated by a great fire at the back.

Where someone works. Where someone waits. Someone who has clearly been preparing an elaborate meal, all this while -- it wouldn't surprise you that Velvet was able to find the only competent chef in Ponyville.

That is the pony preparing the meal, so that is clearly the chef. Yes, they even wear the traditional outfit -- a blood-red cloak covering their form, their head topped with a white toque. The figure turns around, and you are truly amazed that Velvet secured such an esteemed figure to cook tonight. She has lived up to her own responsibilities and beyond.

"Rich, have you met Mareinette?" Velvet asks, and you think for a second. You would undoubtedly remember spending time with such an illustrious figure, even if she does work for a living, and you do not. So you shake your head no, and Velvet smiles. She replies, "No matter. Mareinette, are we almost ready for dinner?"

[GRAIL!]

"Lovely, thank you. Then that just means..." Velvet swallows. She takes a deep breath. And then she looks at you with a cold, cold, gaze. It reminds you of the gaze you gave your father, the last time you saw him. All those decades ago.

The fire is still roaring, the pots are still burbling, the Monster is still preparing.

But you feel cold, and you can't look away.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Mrs. Rich. Truthfully... I don't like myself very much." You open your mouth to respond, your eyes widening, but she continues on. And you will not interrupt her, your manners haven't failed you yet.

"My last name comes from a brute, one of the only things he gave me I haven't been able to get rid of. My ruthlessness almost burned the world down, and it has too left too much of it ash as it is. My rank was earned by deeds I should not have done, and aiding crimes I should have stopped." She pauses, having told you that she despises everything you ever esteemed in her. You're too stunned to speak.

"The only things I love in my life are the ones that have nothing to do with me." She grimaces, but continues.

"My husband -- my horseshoe." Didn't she agree that husbands were nothing but a very complicated tractor, unfortunately necessary to reap well-sown fields? What is she saying about a horseshoe?

"My daughters -- they're all perfect, you know, even if they're all different." You know of her daughters, yes, but you thought they were utter frustrations much like your own!

"My friends -- who I don't deserve, I really really don't." You two are... Ladies. With a capital L. You're not supposed to have friends. Other than each other, of course, but others should be carefully maneuvered to think they're friends, not actually be them.

"But do you know something, Spoiled?"

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

"I don't like myself very much. But what I've learned is that's okay. Because I can change."

She takes a deep breath, as tears start to leak down her cheeks. and repeats herself slowly, "I. Can. Change."

"I can be different than i was yesterday. I can be more tomorrow than I am today. I can be less afraid, and more thoughtful. I can do better, and lessen the evils I've done." She's speaking fiercely now, a fire in her voice to match the one still roaring in the corner.

"Or... I could have." Her voice trembles. "But I simply don't have time. I can't take risks, not when it comes to her gaze. So yes, I could have changed. One day and one word and one action at a time. But now, I have to sacrifice that chance."

CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK comes from a corner of the room, followed by a "[MOTH]?". You're baffled by what the cook means, but you can't look away from Velvet.

"Yes, I have to," She says, "Too much is at stake. But you, Spoiled, do you know the thing that really gets me about you?" She glances at Mareinette, still toiling away. "From everything Mareinette has told me about you, you don't. Any day you could have become something else. Something other than this... monster. You had nothing pinning you down, nothing haunting or hunting your dreams. You could have loved your husband, or your daughter. You could have worked at loving them. Or, tartarus, you could have left! And learned to love yourself!"

Her face is raw, agonized, tears running down her cheeks. You've never seen this pony in your life. You've never seen this pony in your life.

And then, in an instant, she's gone. Her tears vanish, her poise returns, her voice is unwavering. Whoever you just saw in front of you — this isn't her anymore.

"But now, you can't. And maybe you never could."

Her gaze leaves your eyes for the first time since you entered this room. She looks over your shoulder.

"Mareinette, it's time for dinner."

You have so much to say. She-- But-- Wait--

You're angry, and baffled, and hurt, and offended, and and and -- and you thought this was a dinner!

[GRAIL!]

And then, it is.

Spoiler

This is a humble request, Bird -- let us do the Moth and Grail sacrament actions on the same person, in the same night. Whoever that might be...

Yes, humble requests tend to take 2000 words, that's standard practice!

...As a work, this got a little long. And Velvet's voice is hard. And I'm not sure if I got either Sacrament right, really. But it was a fun scene to explore!

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Spoiler: Winning Plan

[X] Plan Prudent KISSing
-[X] (AotL) Lantern
-[X] (Forge) Forge 3 reagent
-[X] (Knock) Explore the Summit
-[X] (Winter) Invoke a Risen
-[X] (Social) Teach Selene
-[X] Fleeting Opportunity: Family
-[X] Fleeting Opportunity: Friends
-[X] Perform the Forge's Redemption
--[X] Sacrifice Forge 3 reagent
--[X] At Jade's old house
-[X] Sacrament: Through the Foggy Mirror (4x) (only 3 actions consumed)
-[X] Uncle Steppes has come to visit! But every time you speak to him, you get the impression he is… unwell. Even though he hides it well from the fillies. Spend some more time with him, and see if you can help him.

[X] Plan Spreading Ourselves Thin Always Gets Us Punished
-[X] Do not leash anypony.
-[X][DETECTIVES] Follow Up: Changelings
-[X][CONSTABLES] (FOLLOW UP) Your detectives have given you a very long list, of ponies and places involved in the attempt against your life. Round them up and put them all in jail, before this trail goes cold.
-[X][COMMISSIONER] The Lunar Bureau is not the only recently-minted institution in Equestria. Try to contact the others.
--[X] Eclipse(?), and Midday Dew.
-[X][JADE] Research "A Memory of Light" (Current progress 0/100, uses Learning and LANTERN)
-[X] (Baldomare-Gift) Edge 6 book
-[X][BALDOMARE] Channel an Influence. (Secret Histories)
-[X][AXE] Ask for a Knock lesson.
-[X][MAREINETTE] Channel an Influence. (Grail)
-[X][SELENE] Soothe the night. (Her Winter realization. Unknown effects, if any.)
-[X][RARITY] Take a Commission.
-[X] Needs must. Ask somepony to procure you a dead body from the local cemetery.
-[X] Three extra Velvet actions! (Costs 9 follower actions)
-[X] Something Else (lend Heartifact to Comet)
-[X] You will have a follower perform a RotT ritual, to search for a Level 7 book. (Jade Whistle action BORROWED from Turn 22)

The Glory is... Glorious.

There is no other way to describe it. No other words come to mind. It simply is.

Even though you cannot truly see its light, because it is blocked. Even though you are so far, despite being so close. You cannot help but be enraptured by it.

It is the ultimate flame, that calls to all moths. It is the perfect light, that cuts away all darkness. It is the peak of the House and the light upon the crown of the Monarch. And as you behold it, your mind is so enraptured by its Glory that no other words come to mind. You cannot rightfully call it Eternity, and you cannot rightfully call it Neverending, although you would know after waking that both words could easily apply to it.

Still, as you sit here, the only thing you can think about is that it is Glory and it is Glorious and that you will spend the rest of your existence banging your head against this damn locked wall if it means that gets you even a little bit closer to-



[Channeling the LIGHT, cd 120]

[Roll: 61 + 13 (Magic) + 40 (Lantern, level 4) = 114]

[Velvet Covers invokes a re-roll]

[Re-roll: 70 + 13 (Magic) + 40 (Lantern, level 4) = 123]



-you stop thinking. If only for a second.

No, that is not the right way to describe it.

You stop controlling your thoughts. Instead, you let them flow like a river. A river made out of light and logic and the madness that is attempting to link cause and effect in this world.

You let your thoughts flow without your interference or influence. You let your thoughts flow through you. Because, as Baldomare once told you, knowledge can be light, and a mind can be like glass.

And thanks to that, or perhaps because of that, you are able to lessen the indefatigable grip that Glory has on your mind. That it has on everypony's mind.

If only for a moment.

If only for a fraction of a second.

But that… that might be all that you need.

Because what are you doing, again? Where are you, exactly?

To what place have you been coming to? Every. Single. Night?

And where have you been mindlessly roaming around, all these nights, like a mad moth that is circling a covered candle?

That's right.

You have been coming here. And you have been doing this. And to nopony's surprise, you haven't made any progress in opening this damn door.



…



You take a deep, cold breath. One that could have made a corpse rise from its grave, if it had filled their lungs. And perhaps, in a sense, that is what just happened to you. Because perhaps, in a sense, drowning in Glory-lust is no different than dying, or losing your mind, or perhaps some other equivalency to no longer living.

You let that deep, cold breath spread through your insides.

And finally, finally, you realize where you are.

You are Lady Velvet Covers.

You are at the very top of the Mansus. On that nigh-unreachable peak that the adepts of old trampled over each other to climb to.

And right now, as you snap out of the madness that gripped you so many times before, you have your back turned to Glory.

Yes. That is right.

You are near the very roof of the House. You have been visiting this place nearly every night for the past few weeks now. But this time, perhaps for the first time, you were able to wrench your eyes away from that final locked Door, and the Glory that shines behind it.

And for the first time since you reached this level of the Mansus, you are finally free to look at… something else. At anything else, really.

For the first time, you are able to appreciate how spiderweb-cracked the floor is, under your hoofs. And for the first time you can see how the glass-lilies float and dance around with the dream-breeze of this place.

But you also know you must not tarry. You must not look at the cracks on the floor, less you notice some fascinating configuration in how they were cracked. And you must not look at the floating lilies for too long, less that inescapable light reflects on one of their petals and back into your eyes.

No, instead you must look at the one place you came here to explore. At that single, absolutely fascinating landmark that, thanks to its proximity to Glory, you could not care less for until now.

Yes. Tonight you will explore the crater that sits at the very top of the house. Tonight you will explore the gaping wound that never healed, and the shockwave of which shattered the Mansus under its blow.

Tonight, you will explore that which Ruined the Concursum, and Shattered the Stairways, and made its violation known all the way to the very Branding Door.

"Tonight, I find what I need to unlock those chains," you say, although even that vaguest of mention nearly drags your attention back to that light that shines behind you.

Still, you harden yourself, and you keep a loose grip on the river that flows through your mind.

And with one hoofstep after the other, you make your way to the crater.



…



Deep down, you always knew what you would find here. Deep down, you already knew what awaited you here, even if you did not know its name.

The top of the Mansus is not a small place. It is not horizon-wide like some of the other floors, and it does not stretch into a twisting and fogging infinity like other levels. But still, it is a respectable mesa of Mansus-stone, that is diminished only be the inevitable cliffs that mark its ends.

At its very center, lies the Crater. The gaping wound from which all of the cracks in the Mansus originated.

The Crater is a deep, bowl-shaped thing of shattered glass and melted Mansus-stone. It is slightly crooked, seeing how the culprit of this wound came down from an angle, and its depth betrays the true (and perhaps endless) thickness that a Mansus-stone mesa has.

However, despite all the mortal words you can use to paint this place, there is only one true way to describe the sight before your eyes.

You are looking at… the grave of a God. You are looking at an ugly Wound that defined, and perhaps even ended, an Era.

You are looking at the hoofwork of the Forge-of-Days. And even though you have never truly heard her name or her Names before, something deep in your mind understands this to be her doing.

Something in your mind, or perhaps the very air of the Mansus, is telling you this. Without a doubt. Because this is what she does, isn't it? This has her craftsmanship written all over it. It is the grave of a God, a Wound upon the world, and the unwelcome End of and entire world as it was known.

You might as well be looking at her Hoofprint, imprinted upon the soft clay that was the Mansus-stone, when stepped upon by her bright-hot hoofs. You might as well be reading from her very hoofwriting, because what else are her actions if not the embodiment of her teachings?

Yes. This is where it happened.



Before this, She Remade With Fire.

After this, She Ended All Nights.

But here… here you see how She Ended What Would Not Change.



Because at the very center of the Crater, you can see what she left behind. You can see her workshop, or perhaps her body, or perhaps there is no difference because that was the place where her creations were given life.

At the very center of the Crater, you can see her previous home. A large and blocky structure, castle-sized and as large as the Ruined Church, that is half-sunk into the cracked Mansus-stone. Like a great nail that was hammered deep into a block of blue marble. Surrounded by the shattered remains of the Mirror Door that it punched through in its flaming descent.

At the very center of the Crater, you see the old temple of the Forge-of-Days, which your mind now knows was called the Malleary.

So, with cautious hoofsteps, you begin making your way down the Crater.



- - -



The Crater is still warm to the touch. You can feel it, even though your hoofs are not real. You can feel that this place is still lukewarm and cooling, as if the vicious blow that shattered the Mansus has occurred just a few hours ago.

And who knows, given how different time works within the Mansus, that might really be the case.

Still, the Crater is not so hot that it actually hurts you, and the hateful remains of the Mirror Door are easy enough to avoid. So, you descend into the Crater, negotiating your way down its steep cracks and slopes, until you approach the great structure itself.

The Malleary is… huge. It is larger even than the Ruined Church. Or perhaps it is you who feel small when standing before it. Still, it is a great and blocky structure made out of solid metals and shining alloys. It is beautiful, in a way, but also practical and utilitarian. You do not see any windows, only chutes. And in certain places, the mechanisms that operated the forges within its walls are jutting out of the walls, with the tightly-connected cogs of unsees machines doubling as the outer walls in certain sections of its side.

This place looks, at the same time, like a giant puzzle box, and a fortress, and a workshop, and somehow… also like a home.

Because for some unnamable reason, even though you are at the very top of the Mansus and your mind should be the furthest away from these feelings, you can also feel an echo of love coming from this structure.

Still, you must not tarry, and you must not linger. So, you begin searching for a door.

The Malleary is huge, yes, but it is also a utilitarian structure. And it is also embedded into the very shattered ground. So, you begin circling around it, hoping that its only door was not facing the Mansus when it struck it. Because you cannot begin to imagine what kind of power would be needed to break through its walls, if another entrance is needed.

But luckily, or perhaps by design, you soon chance upon what seems to be its entrance.

Near the side of the Malleary, so close to the ground that you might be able to climb in, the see a grand square-shaped entrance.

It is, quite literally, a perfect square, that leads into a square-shaped corridor, and into the depths of the grand structure. However, there is something wrong about it. And, as you cautiously observe it from a distance, it takes you several seconds to realize what exactly is so wrong about it.

The entrance, you can tell, is dark. And that by definition makes it feel wrong. Because the Malleary, you know without knowing, was ever ablaze, ever echoing with the sound of hammers, and ever burning with heat. So, to see its very entrance dark and cold and forbidding is… well, it was probably despairing to the adepts of old, who saw it in its full glory. But even to you, it feels wrong, or perhaps sad, or maybe even lonely.

Still, that is your entrance. This is the entrance to the abode of the highest Goddess, whose hoofs and works shattered more than one God. So, this is where you will find what you need.

Trepidation fills your heart. You should Wake. You should retreat and come back some other night, when you are better prepared. To step into this place unprepared would be folly, you know.

But still, you are not quite done. Not yet.

And there isn't, or at least you hope there isn't, any harm in getting a little closer to that entrance.

So, cautiously, you make your way to the sad and cold entrance of the Malleary. Taking a better look at its metal walls and noticing how, remarkably, it looks undamaged. Even when the very Mansus underneath it is so cracked and punished from its touch.

You cautiously approach the entrance to this highest of places, until you finally notice… something.

There is something on the ground.

Right here, just a few paces from the entrance of the Malleary, you can see… something.

It looks like a corpse, or a broken clock, or perhaps the scattered remains of discarded machinery. An endless assortment of springs and cogs and pieces that somehow you know all fit together, once. Enough pieces of scrap to fill an entire lake, but also so few pieces that you can almost see at a glance how they are supposed to come back together, and what their original purpose was.

…

You don't… really… know, what you are looking at. But you also do.

It was a clock, but it wasn't.

It was a servant, but it wasn't.

It was a son, but not the one She wished to give Him.

This, you know, is what remains of one of the most beloved creations of the Forge-of-Days. And the day its creator left, it followed her to the door, bade her its last goodbye, and crumbled into pieces as it had completed its purpose.

…

And you think… you think you can put it back together.

But not here, and not now. No. For now, you must Wake. You must Wake, and you must commit this knowledge to memory. Less the Glory-lust takes hold of you again, and you forget who you are.

Still, you found what you were looking for. You found what you were looking for, and far, far more.

Because here, you know is a place where Gods have already died.

And here, within the walls of the Malleary, you know you will find the means to kill an Outsider.





You have completely explored the top of the Mansus. There are no other locations to explore beyond the (broken) Mirror Door.

You have found Her workshop, where She almost knew regret, and where she always knew Joy. The very sight of its walls is enough to inspire creation. You have gained one scrap of Forge Lore.

You have discovered the Mansus expedition "Into the Malleary". This expedition will only be available AFTER you have acquired an Outsider. No exploratory forays will be dared before that.

You have located the means to extract the blood of an Outsider. You may now commit to the Expedition "All In".

You have learned the Rite of Joyous (Re)Forging.

 

[Sveta08]

Forgive me this indulgent curiosity.
I don't know the Lores or known History or the Truth. Nor are the Lores colored. But... I hadn't thought about the Forge of Days before.
Now I have.
Forgive me for this.



When the Hands Turn Anew

---

It is nature. It is The Nature.
To call it natural would imply another order it obeys. To call it nurture requires a guiding hand. And perhaps, that is true.
It has always been true before.



An enemy. A tool. One in the same as they always were meant to be.
To create is to reshape. To destroy is to reshape. The same coin. The same hand. Neither separate or unified, only intent implying difference.
It is now made Forge.

WHEN THE FORGE IS COLD​

Light.
A pale reflection of truth. Enough to shine and curse and bless. Called now a new name
Day.

AND THE GLORY IS DARK​

It is a cycle.
All are.
It is nature. It is The nature.

AND THE WOOD IS DUST​

The day made new. Words given to what it is. To Rise. Ascend. Higher and higher to the utmost.
The day to fade. Words given to what it is. To Fall. Descend. Lower and lower till lost forever.
A new day. A light made. Anew.
Such is the way of all things.

​

It is split.
The truth is undivided, but it is split all the same. Words reborn anew as all is renamed. Remembered. Lost. Found anew.
It is a cycle.
All are.


It is not a thought. Nor is it a coincidence. Nor is it required. It is the consequence of nature. Of All Nature.
To gather high is to invite conflict. Thus, it is scattered.
Blood flows. Light spreads. Families grow. Knowledge fades.
All that is gathered scatters. Such is the way of things.


The Sun does not chase the Moon. Day does not swallow the Night. They are made. That they eclipse one another is the time and tides of power.
The New outpaces the Old. Neither at fault, it is simply The Nature.
Night to outgrow Day. Day to outgrow Night. Child to outgrow Parent, and sire anew, to repeat.
History to reiterate. To repeat. To speak the same message for all time.



The Rise
The Fall
The Rise

---

Blood is the tool of the dying. Of the fading. Of the mortal.
It is why it is known as a Price. it is why they are not made with blood.
Here, where metal and stone and gem flow like water. Where born anew are bodies not made flesh. Where what is is remade, renewed, and reborn.


The Red Church below may speak to the body. To the Birth.
But it does not speak to Creation.

AND THE GRAIL IS DRAINED​

Children that laugh. That work. That die.
Not unending. Not unceasing. But roiling, revolving, reviving, reborn anew.
Not lost. Not embraced in change. Fixed and known. Both their destruction. And their birth.

AND THE HEART IS STILLED​

This, where all is Remade. Renewed. Reborn.

AND THE WELL IS DRY​

Home


It is not a duty to instill purpose. To grant them understanding and ambition.
It is a will. A desire. A necesity.

What purpose has a hammer with no nail? What soul has a sword that does not strike?
There are those who venerate the tools. That shape themselves into them. That find glory and honor and worth in the use.
Craftsmen and Weapons both. Both understand. Both fail to understand.

Tools that serve to create greater tools. Weapons that hone sharper weapons.
Hands creating greater hands.
To be eclipsed is the nature. The name stripped away. The purpose renewed.

This is their home. Their birthplace. Their grave.
The first and only. The last and every.
How could she not love them to the last?

---

Slowly.
Dawning.
It came.
Not in question. Not in rot. Not in decay. But a realization. An understanding.
A despair.

AND THE RIVER IS BLANK​

How could she not?
This, a world. A life. A creation of all so beautiful by her own made. Every life fashioned, every tool rebuilt, every soul and every scrap given aim and direction and purpose.
How could she not come to see what was true? The path she walked, unknowing?
The Nature.

AND THE EDGE IS DULLED​

But it did not come.
The pattern did not repeat. The pattern did repeat. But the pattern remained.
Names and Hours and Bodies and Hands. All moved. All were. All change. But It was absolute.

AND THE KEYS ARE LOST​

The Sun rose. The Sun set.
The Moon rose. The Moon set.
And Glory stood eternal.
Unchanging.

---

There was no secrecy. Such things were unneeded.
There were no lies. Such things could not stand.

She worked. She worked and Creation heard her. All of Creation known and answered by her hand.
Such was the act. Such was her crime.

None could stand against she whom was change. None who knew of what she meant would rise against her.
Ignorance or Indolence. Such was their crime.

ONLY THEN WILL HISTORY CHANGE​

It was for love she set on this path. And with love that she left.

​

A kiss. A whispered word. A kindness that she would afford her youngest.
From mother to daughter. A gift. To be destroyed. To be rebuilt. Reborn.
In another era. In another age. A tool to those who might yet know how to use them.

ONLY THEN THE CYCLE REPEATS​

A resolve. The touch of a hoof. An understanding both right and wrong that even the absolute must change.
The blood would never cease. But it was not her intent for it to be stemmed.



Accursed Sibling had fallen. And with them, the Word. Her words lost in his voice.
Warped. Changed. Agonized.

ONLY THEN HANDS TURN ANEW​

Before Glory, a child. A promise. An understanding that she required from her eldest.
From mother to son. That this world is not allowed beyond. That here will be the final steps of the earth.
The door was locked with herself inside, her word to be burned in the light of Glory.

A Curse
A Hope
A Change

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

You are Velvet Covers. And tonight, you… don't really have anything important to do.

And that, by itself, makes this an exceedingly rare night.

It is the weekend. You are back at home in Ponyville. Your husband is away and your daughters are either asleep, or flying somewhere around Equestria under the moonlight.

And for the first time in a very long time, you are alone. Not in the sense that you are lonely, but rather in the sense that you don't really have anywhere to be, and you don't really have anything to do.

So, even though you have certain privileges that allow you to define when is the right time for something, and even though you have the means so that your time with almost anypony is worth your while, you are just… here.

Still, there is something about tonight, something in the very air, that makes you feel like you are not the only one who feels this way. There is something about tonight that isn't exactly wrong but that still feels strange, or maybe unusual. Something that perhaps was more common, a long time ago, but that hasn't happened as often since Equestria became filled with warmth and song.

Something that makes ponies… think. About the past, or about themselves, or about something else entirely that is still connected to both.

Something that…

…

You don't really feel tired right now. So, there is no point in trying to go to bed.

You make sure to keep the windows open of your room, to let the cool breeze and the moonlight in, and then you set out for a short walk around the house.

It could have been anypony, really. You truly believe that, in a night like this, you would have become a thoughtful company to anypony. To the first pony you bumped into, even, especially given how late it is.

It just so happened that your steps took you to the balcony that oversees the central gardens, before they took you anywhere else.



- - -



"You know, you have a really good thing going on here," he says, as he takes another puff from his cigar.

You don't answer him. Not with words, at least. You don't say anything, you don't nod, you don't even hum in agreement to his words.

Still, the calm smile you have on your face as you look up to the rising moon is enough of an answer.

And truly, in a silent night like this, this kind of answer is as welcome as any other.

"I'm also glad Selene adjusted so well. She might still be the quieter one, but comparing how she was like the last time I visited, it's like night and day," he says.

And this time, a short and quiet laughter escapes your lips as an answer.

You and your uncle Velvet Steppes are currently sitting side by side, on one of the balconies that overlook the central garden. You found him here, sitting on a particular chair and smoking a cigar, and for a moment you mistook him for somepony else. But still, he had none of the sharpness, and none of the harshness, of the pony who first put that seat there. So, you joined him, sitting on the cushion that was by his side, and for a while the two of you just looked out to that calm night.

You like your uncle Steppes. You really do. At times, he makes you feel like a filly, and at times he is so jovial you forget his mane is already greying out.

But tonight, he looks particularly old. Tonight, he looks very old, and very tired, as if he barely had enough energy to reach this place and sit down to begin with. Tonight, for some reason, it truly feels like this might be the last time he ever sees a calm night like this.

So, you are keeping him company. You haven't said anything yet, because there really isn't anything you can say. But still, you are at least keeping him company.

"Although, I have to ask… what's the deal with you and that pegasus?" he asks, turning his face sideways to look at you.

The way the moonlight is shining down on his face makes him look both young and old at the same time. Youthful and sagged. Curious, and so very tired. Almost as if he is a mirage, juxtaposed on himself.

You wonder if the moon that is shining down on you tonight really is Selene's moon. Or if, somehow, this is the echo of something older, that was far more common in a time that is now forgotten.

Still, he asked you a question, so you must leave your musings to the side.

"The pegasus? What pegasus?" you ask, raising a curious eyebrow. "And what do you mean by a deal I have with her?"

To which Velvet Steppes answers with a coughing chuckle.

"You know exactly who I am talking about. The pegasus who always joins your daughters for breakfast. I swear I saw her wearing a maid dress, once. So why in Equestria did you kiss her head early this morning, together with your two fillies?"

Ohhhh, but of course. You haven't really thought of her as "a pegasus" in so long that your uncle's question didn't even register that way in your head.

"Ah, that is our Softy. Soft Sweeps is her name. She was Silky's caretaker for a long time, until they became as close as sisters," you say, your voice trailing off here and there as you omit the details that aren't really important. "And when the Catastrophe took away everything else she had… well, she still had us, and she always will," you finish.

And Velvet Steppes understands. He gives you that slow, calm nod that makes it clear nothing else needs to be said. And he also has that calm smile of a pony who quietly approves of what you said.

However, that same calm smile also makes him look so very tired.

As if he had just confirmed that there is one less thing he needs to worry about.

As if he had just realized that everything is alright, that you all know what to do, and there is one less reason for him to stay here.

"I see," is all he says.

And for a while longer, not a single word is spoken between you two.



…



That is, until the moon is so high in the sky it has nowhere else to go but downwards, towards the opposite horizon from where it came.

And something, maybe the moon, or maybe how little time there is left in this night, or maybe how little time he has left as a whole, makes him say those next words.

"I wish I had something like that," he says, with a tone that is too close to a confession. He says that out loud, to nopony in particular, and also to everypony in all of Equestria. Not unlike how a colt would wish on a rare shooting star, except Velvet Steppes is no longer a colt, and there are no longer any stars on his sky.

He says that, and you don't… really know what to say. Not because you lack the guile or empathy to say it, but because there is nothing that can be said.

He wishes he had something like that.

He doesn't have it.

And his time is almost up.

He was given as many hours in a day as anypony else, and he has lived for more years than most ponies. And now, he is at the very end of the road he decided to walk on, this whole time.

So, the ponies he has by his side are the ones he chose to have by his side. And the ones who aren't are the ones he never sought out to begin with.

There is nothing else to say, because there is nothing that can be done about it.

That is just… life.

"I wish… I wish I had some great secret, that I was hiding. You see, some of the boys talk, every now and then. Some of my hirelings talk, and they joke, and they whisper here and there, about Vellum. They say that we look too much alike for it to be a coincidence. They see the color of his fur and they say it's almost a perfect match of mine. And if I were to be abundantly honest… I wish that was true. I wish he was some secret, bastard son that I raised, while pretending he wasn't my own. I wish…"

A shiver runs through your uncle, and he shudders for more than just a moment, as if a cold hoof had been placed on his shoulder.

You wonder if your uncle knows whose chair it is, that he is sitting on. You wonder if he picked this very spot tonight as a coincidence, or if he was invited here by some presence that even now you know is watching you two.

Because for some reason, you can't help but remember something your uncle asked you about, during the first week of his visit. He asked you about a certain "employee" of yours. About a pony who he met, only once, but that left a… lasting impression on him.

You immediately knew who he was talking about. And you could immediately see in your uncle's eyes that meeting had scarred him, in a place that is deeper than just his coat or his fur. But your uncle stopped himself before he could finish his question, and you could see he did not really want to hear the answer. So, he parted ways with a smile, and you realized he chose to pretend that encounter never really happened.

And ever since then, you were oddly aware that Biedde never really crossed paths with your uncle again.

Still, as you watch your uncle shiver, cold despite the warmth of the night and alone despite your presence, you can't help but feel that a cold hoof has just been laid on his shoulder.

Your uncle's teeth are almost chattering when he continues to speak.

"I am not… a good pony, Covers," he says. And this time, you know he is speaking to you.

This time, you know he is confessing to you.

"I have done a lot of bad things in my life. And by now, I know there isn't a way for me to take them back or pay for them."

He isn't really looking at you, as he says that. Instead, he is looking away towards the sky. And even though you can see that the firmament of the world is full of bright and hopeful stars, you somehow know he is looking at the blackness that exists between them.

"But the worst thing I did, the one that haunts me the most, was what I did… to you."

He puts down his cigar, squashing it to an ashtray on the side-rest of the chair. Somehow, the cigar was already out even before he did that, and not a single hint of warmth or spark flew out of it as he did that.

"You probably don't remember. But that doesn't make it any different. Still, when you were young, right after you got hurt. Right after your… scar. I saw what happened. I saw how your father's treatment of you changed. I remember how… confused you were, when you weren't in so much pain you had to sleep through it with your medication."

The wind blows softly through the two of you, barely enough to even disturb your mane.

But somehow, even that light pressure from the passing wind seems to be trying to push you away from him. To distance him from you just a little bit more, as he continues to speak.

"One day, you were everypony's little prodigy. One day, you were your father's little filly, and the joy of our family. And on the next, you... were not. The maids were no longer allowed to see you, and you probably don't even remember who your caretaker was anymore. And you became just… a stain, something shameful to be hidden away."

You won't say you remember everything he is saying. But you do remember the feeling.

You can still feel that well-worn chill in your heart, that you still carry from those days.

Now that you think about it, you never had anypony tell you how it was like, from their perspective. You never had anypony describe that time to you like this. But still, even though his words are new to you, the sensation that they are carrying are familiar, in the worst way possible.

"And I visited you. Of course I visited you. Whenever I was in Canterlot. Every day, when I was in the main house. At times I would keep you company, and at times I would try to make you laugh. Until one day…"

He looks at you as he says that. He looks at you, and his eyes look as old as his voice sounds right now.

He looks at you, and the only thing you can see in his eyes is shame. Shame, and regret.

"… you probably don't remember it. But one day, you asked me to take you away. One day, you asked me to take you with me, back to wherever I lived when I wasn't in Canterlot. One day, you told me you felt like I was the only pony who still loved you, and you asked me if I couldn't be your new father instead. And you know what I did…?"

The answer is obvious.

But even so, the weight his words carry seem to almost crush him as he speaks them.

"I. Did. Nothing."

And he leans back on that seat, as if he couldn't even stand to keep his eyes open anymore.

"My whole life, I was the pony who did your father's dirty work. To this day, I am the one who he calls when something needs to happen. And even back then, as I looked you in the eye while you asked… while you begged me to do that. Even back then, I knew I could do it. I knew I should do it. Because who would stop me? Who would your father call to bring you back, if he was even interested in having you back to begin with?"

The wind blows again, and this time it feels like there is a vast chasm between the two of you.

Even though he is so close that you could touch him if you just raised your foreleg.

"But I didn't. I let you stay there. Alone, in that house, in that room, nursing a scar that would never heal, and slowly withering away into a… No, what I did was even worse than that. Because you might not remember it, but that was the last time I ever visited you. For years, even. That was the last time I saw you, until a few weeks before your arranged marriage. Because I couldn't… even muster the courage to see you and…"

He trails off, this time for good. And you… you don't think he is lying. In fact, you think he is telling you the truth.

Because you don't remember much from that period. In truth, your memory stops a bit before you got hurt, and your closest memory after that is from your days in college, when you were already a grown mare.

Everything in between is… quiet. Flashes of isolation, and piles of book, and nights spent awake when your twisted leg hurt so much you couldn't even cry yourself to sleep.

But you do remember your uncle visiting you, at the very beginning.

And now that you think about it, you don't really remember seeing him after a certain point.

So maybe his story really is the truth. Maybe he really did leave you there, to rot and stay alone and miserable. Simply because he didn't have the courage to…

…

Your uncle is quiet, now. So very quiet. You can barely make out the sound of him breathing, but you know what he is waiting for.



He is waiting for your judgment.



This old stallion, who never had the courage to love anypony over the course of his life, has finally realized that he is now all alone. And that there is nothing to do but await the decision of the single pony whom he failed most deeply.

You wonder if, despite his many crimes, he can still be called good.

You wonder if, despite his good intentions, he can be called anything but evil.

Because what is a pony, and what is a life, if not the result of their actions?

Still, you don't really care for those deep philosophical implications. Not right now, at least.

Instead, the only thing that comes to your mind is that…



[] You will tell him that you forgive him. And deep down, you do not resent him.

[] You will tell him that you forgive him. But deep down, you still resent him.

[] You will not forgive him. But deep down, you do not resent him either.

[] You do not forgive him. And deep down, you resent him.

Spoiler: On forgiveness and resentment

The words "forgiveness" and "resentment" carry very complex meanings, when you really think about it. And while they are not being brushed over or callously thrown here, I must also explain what exactly each choice means.

For the sake of this vote, "forgiveness" refers to actively and physically telling Velvet Steppes that you forgive him. It is the act of saying "I forgive you", either through words or some other mean. It may be a lie, but it is still the decision to act as if you forgive him.

Conversely, "resentment" in this vote refers to how you feel. It is the determination of whether, in your heart of hearts, you truly do not carry any ill will towards him.

You can tell him that you forgive him, and still hate him. You can tell him that what he did cannot be forgiven, but still not hold any spite for him.

Still, you must decide between "yes" or "no" for the two options of how you will act (forgiveness) and how you will feel (resentment).

Since these are the only two criteria, and since each criterion can only be answered with a "yes" or a "no", a total of four options exist.

Each option has a different outcome. This can either continue or entirely redefine your relationship with Velvet Steppes.

Twelve hours moratorium. Vote by approval. Pick as many options as you want, and the single highest-voted option will win.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER WOLF DAUGHTER

Earth Bet: House of the Sun (Cultist Simulator/Worm)

You've been recruited into a cult, something small that turned out to be just a little bit more. However you can't just leave, you agree with their points after all. The world is crooked and there are things older than the history that is known. A shame that most people aren't likely to see it...

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(Mansus Law requires us to disclose this is an ad. Brought to you and paid for by the Wolf-Divided PAC. Vote Wolf, vote for a Wake free of Worms* (*and everything else))



A/N: Just signal boosting our fellow quest. Something very good just happened there!

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

[X] You will tell him that you forgive him. And deep down, you do not resent him.



It is late at night. So late, in fact, that it might as well be called early morning.

The moon is nowhere to be seen. From here, at least. Hidden as it is behind one of the annex buildings of the estate, already creeping so close to the horizon it will soon stop moving.

Still, on the balcony overseeing the garden, an old pony sits on a chair.

An old pony sits, nursing a long-spent cigar, and another pony… waits. And for all that the sitting pony is old, and grizzled, and maybe even tired, the one who is waiting by the shadows is old, older and older still.

On the balcony overseeing the central garden of the Velvet estate, two old ponies wait for something.

But they are under no illusion that they are keeping each other company.

"She really is a good filly," the old -youngest- pony says, reminiscing on his memory of just a few hours ago. When the night was still not as cold, and his surroundings still not quite as harsh.

Still, no reply comes. No reply comes, nor is expected.

But even that admission, even the escape of those words that could no longer live just inside his head, are yet another sign.

Another sign that it is almost time. Another sign that, soon, there will be nothing else left for him to say.

However, he is not ready. At least not yet.

There are still some final things he must do, before he is ready to go.

"You have been there with me all along, haven't you? No physically, I know. But still, you have been with me ever since we first met. Right there. Right behind me. Watching. Waiting… Judging," he says.

Still no response. He might as well be talking to the wind. He might as well be entirely alone, and just imagining the presence he knows is waiting in the shadow.

But he knows better than that. He knows he is not alone. He knows that he cannot avoid that presence, that he cannot avoid him, any more than he can avoid the passage of time.

He is, after all, inevitable.

"Well, I guess this is it," he says, letting go of the cigar and straightening his back. "I no longer have any regrets worth carrying, and I no longer have the will to pick up any new ones. And if she is willing to leave them behind, then I might as well do the same."

He says that, and then he looks up towards the sky. Wondering how different they are today than when he was still just a colt. Did the starts change? Or did they stay the same?

And which option would make him feel older? Which would be worse? To know that the stars remained perfect and unmoving, while he grew up and grew tired? Or to know that even the stars were not free from the passage of time?

He wasn't sure. He never really looked up to the sky that much.

And he didn't care. It was not like he was going to start doing that tonight anyways.

"So, what should I do? What happens next?" he said.

And for the first time since they parted ways, the presence that had been hounding him ever since then spoke.

"I do not know what you should do. But I know what you will do," the presence, his cold and unwelcome companion, said. With a voice filled with certainty that only the very old can have.

With a tone that made it clear that, whatever comes next, is also inevitable.

Because the voice, that voice, had already seen it happen countless times before. And tonight was just another scratch in that long, long tally of cause and effect.

"You will put your affairs in order. You will appoint successors where they need to be appointed. And you will ensure your efforts are continued even after you are gone. And then… you will come to me."

Even that answer was something that, somehow, Velvet Steppes was already expecting.

Because ever since he first met that stallion, ever since he first heard that voice, he knew this day would come.

After all, on that first and only time he ever saw that stallion, he also saw him for what he truly was. He saw that, in the depths of those cold and hard eyes, there was an even deeper bedrock of discipline. Of the will to do what needs to be done. Of the certainty that he has a purpose, as long as he is following his orders. Of the desire, the need, to be the dirty hoof that pushes away the filth.

He saw… what he could be.

And the older stallion, in turn, saw what he once was.

And that is why Velvet Steppes knew, ever since that day, that this was coming. He knew that this was inevitable. Because even though ponies like Steppes now live in a world where they cannot stumble and fall down the path that leads to this fate, he also knows that this monolith from the past somehow crawled back into the present, and set his eyes on Steppes.

So now, he only has two choices.

"When that happens. When I have done everything I need to do. Will you kill me? Will I die?" Velvet Steppes asks.

And the answer, again, is obvious.

"In all the ways that matter, yes. You will die. But whether your body continues to move, or you fail and break, will be for you to decide."

"I see," Steppes says. Not because he agrees or disagrees, and not because he has accepted those words like an order. But instead, because it is…

…inevitable.





In the following morning, your uncle Steppes came to you. He looked old, and tired, but less so than he did the night before. He told you he is going to stay in your house, for a little longer, while he "puts some affairs in order".

Following that, he kept to his room. Your daughters eventually told you he spent the next several days writing countless letters, and your servants reported he received a lot of visitors.

Whatever he is doing, it is certainly the kind of business that takes some time. And a small part of you thinks you know what he is doing, although you have decided not to think about it. Still, he told you he will ask you for a favor soon enough.

You can no longer "Ask uncle Steppes for favors". But come next turn, uncle Steppes will give you something.

Biedde, an unbefriended Name and servant of the Colonel, has done what his kind is wont to do: He has taken another step.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

It is a beautiful day outside.

You can hear birds chirping in the distance. The open windows are letting in a pleasant breeze. And everywhere you look, you can see calm and peacefulness.

Perhaps, if you were younger, you would think it is too peaceful. Perhaps, if you were younger, you would think that a day like this would just make you feel old. But now that you are an old man, wrinkled and heavy with age, you don't really mind. In fact, you are thankful for days like these.

And besides, soon enough the house will be filled with activity again. Soon enough, your grandchildren will come back from another day at Canterlot High, and will fill the house with their yells and plays and energy. And that too will be good.

Still, for now, your home is filled with peace. And you won't mind having things like this for just a little longer.

You get up from your seat, raising your arms and stretching your muscles. Normally, by this time, you would be visiting your late wife at her shrine. But that is not something you need to do anymore. Ever since that strange visitor came, from a country that doesn't exist in this world, you haven't needed to visit the shrine anymore. Because after that visitor left, you were finally able to close your wife's casket and bury her by the lake, on her favorite stop.

So, once you are done stretching, you go engage with some other activity that has been taking up most of your time. You pick up your trusty broom, and you go sweep the floors and the stones and all the other places where people are supposed to walk and dust isn't supposed to rest.

Sweep sweep sweep, goes your broom. And the seconds quickly turn into minutes as you once again make this home a little bit tidier for the people you love.

Sweep sweep sweep, you listen to the birds chirp.

Sweep sweep sweep, you fight against the breeze, who playfully undoes your work here and there.

Sweep sweep sweep, you realize the soft tune you have been hearing is in fact your own humming.

And for the longest time, all is in peace.

Until it isn't.

!!!!!!!!!!​

The ground shakes under your feet, violently. You quite literally lose your balance and you almost fall down to the ground, being quick enough to only barely brace yourself against a nearby wall. In fact, everything is so sudden that you don't even have time to feel scared.

But something just happened. Something just broke open, and you just heard a sound so loud it almost felt like an explosion.

In fact, the noise was so impactful you couldn't even understand all of it. You couldn't even pick up on all the details that just happened.

Because you don't have the ears to listen to what just truly happened. You could not hear the wards cracking, or the oaths breaking, or the scale-hard fields that surround your house being dismantled.

No, you did not hear any of that.

The only thing you heard was the raucous, violent sound of the front gate of your house bursting inwards.

And only now, perhaps five full seconds later, does your heart finally begin to beat more loudly inside your chest. With fear, and surprise, and perhaps… and perhaps also with excitement.

Because something about that noise, something about that bang, also felt… familiar.

So, with cautious steps, you make your way to the other side of the house. You were sweeping one of the balconies that face that back of the house, and your late wife had such riches that your home is mansion-sized. Still, you make a small detour to grab a nearby phone, just in case, and then you make your way to the front of the mansion grounds. Towards the great garden, and the lake, and the shrine that is now emptier than before.

You realize at some point that you are still carrying your trusty broom with you. Holding it tightly like a makeshift weapon. A small, youthful chuckle escapes your lips at that, as you remember the adventures you had with your late wife.

Still, with cautious steps, you exit through the front door of your home, stepping into the garden. And there you see…

The front gates, the great and heavy gates that connect the walls around the mansion grounds, are broken. They are shattered. Pushed inwards and cracked as if struck by a speeding truck, or perhaps a battering ram. Their hinges bent and forced with such strength that even the walls show signs of damage.

The grass, also, is flattened. It is literally flattened. In fact, you can see a trail of flattened and bruised grass stretching from the gate, all the way to the lake, as if a great snake had slithered in through the broken gates of your home.

Your eyes follow the track, and your feet join them soon after.

And of course, at the very end of the track, you see…

"… an' for wo'… this?"​

The track of flattened grass ends by the lake. At your late wife's favorite spot, where she was also buried.

But the tombstone itself is nowhere to be seen. And the very ground where she was buried is now split and open, as if the very earth had boiled and spit her casket out.

Yes, your wife's casket is now once again exposed to the elements. It is open, even, as if its door had flung itself outward with great strength.

And standing over your wife's coffin, looking down on her calm and peaceful feature, is a woman.

There is a woman standing over your wife's defiled grave.

And you can immediately tell she is not from this world.

"After all our promiss's, an' all our trips, an' all our years… ye still…"​

There is a woman standing over your wife's grave.

She is tall, but not too tall. Her hair is a bright orange, which clashes wildly with the deep black-and-purple of the cloak she is wearing. And for some unexplainable reason, she is casually holding a great two-faced axe on her hand.

You have no idea if the tool is real or not, or if it is just ceremonial. Especially given the strange antler-shaped things at its top.

Still, she looks more like a priestess of some pagan religion than anything else. She looks like a priestess, and a beggar, and a worn traveler.

But most of all, she looks-

"Yer the one who took 'er from me, aren'tcha?!"​

You have no idea how this happened. You have no idea when this happened.

But the woman is now standing on top of you. The woman is standing over you, and you are now lying on the ground.

You remember her looking in your direction, at some point. You remember her saying something, and you remember how her eyes felt like those of a snake, rather than those of a human. Despite her perfectly human features, that is.

Still, something happened, and now that you have come to your senses this strange woman is standing over you.

And her great antler-topped axe is now being pressed against your neck.

"Ye took 'er from me. 'Er smell es all over ye, an' ae can see tha' shape of 'er scales against yer skin. Ye took 'er from me, didn'tcha? DIDN'TCHA?!"

The top of her axe is being pressed against your neck, and you can feel the pinprick jab of the antlers against your skin. And what is more, the larger sides of the antlers are digging against the floor, to either side of your neck, practically locking you in place.

However, despite the strangeness of this situation, and despite the clear danger that you are in, you can't bring yourself to say anything.

You can't bring yourself to do anything other than stare at her eyes.

"YE TOOK ME PASHARKA FROM ME! YE TOOK AWAY ME SISSER! DIDN'TCHA?! FOKKEN ANSWER ME!"

The axe gets further pushed towards you. The antler-tips dig deeper into the ground to your sides. The pinpricks against your neck become thorny jabs, threatening to draw blood.

And yet, the only thing in your mind is how-

"-you are crying," you say. Or rather, the words escape your mouth. "But even like this, your eyes look just like her."

You say that. And for some reason, the woman freezes.

Because even through she looks furious. Even though the very air around her is so dense, and even though the very ground under her feet seems to be boiling where she stands. And even though she look inhuman enough to be able to kill you, here and now, and not think the slightest of it.

She still looks miserable. She looks miserable, and her cheeks are awash with the constant stream of tears that are flowing down through them.

The woman places a hand against the hilt of her axe. And for a moment, you think she will just push down against it with her weight, to impale your neck with her axe and be done with this. But that moment never comes.

That moment never comes, and instead you realize she is just… leaning against her axe. That she is using it as a crutch, because she has nothing else to lean on to, as she cries through gritted teeth.

A minute passes, and then another, and you… wait. You just wait. You give her time, and she looks like she sorely needs it. And even after she releases you, even after she takes her axe from around your neck and sits by your wife's tomb, you just… wait there.

Because deep down, you think you understand how she feels. Even if only a little bit. You know how it is like to lose someone, and you definitely know how it feels to lose someone as unique and precious as your late wife. So, even though you know next to nothing about this woman, you stay there. To keep her company, if nothing else.

You stay there with her, until she is done crying. You stay there, until she stops hitting your wife's casket, every now and then, with so much strength that the wood warps under her fist. You stay there until she stops cursing, at your wife or at the world or at herself, in that strange hissing language that she seems to speak with.

You stay there… until the ground stops boiling, and the clouds begin moving again, and the snakes that were peeking out from the nearby bushes once again retreat to their nests.

You stay there, until she lets out one final, mournful sob.

And only then, do you try to say anything else.

"I miss her too, you know," you say. "She always kept a lot of secrets from me, and from our family. But still, I… I miss her too."

"Wot do ye kno aboot loss aneeways… yer just a fokken… yer jus'…" the woman mumbles, but you understand enough of her thick accent to know what she just said.

And in a sense, you know that she is right.

"You are right," you say. And for the first time, the woman looks up from where she is sitting, and gives you something that could approach a non-threatening glance. "You are right, I probably didn't know her nearly as well as… well, you. But I knew her well enough. I knew that I loved her, and I know that she loved me. Even if she had other people in her life before we met."

Another loud sniff. Another aching gasp that was an aborted sigh.

But still, the woman once again presses the soaked sleeves of her cloak against her eyes, and looks at you as if waiting for you to continue.

"So why… why don't I tell you about her? About the woman I knew, that is? And if you don't mind, why don't you tell me about her as well? Because I know… I can tell that we both loved her. But it also feels like we loved two different people. So why… why don't you stay a while, and let me tell you about the woman I knew?"

You ask that, and you hope that she accepts. Because the way she is crying, and the way that seeing your late wife affected her, makes it very clear that… well, that she deserves it. She deserves to meet your family, she deserves to see your wife's children and heirs, and she deserves to know that a part of the woman you loved still lives on.

And who knows, maybe she just needs some company right now. Maybe she just needs someone to talk to, and to play that confusing board game your wife so loved to play. This woman will probably beat you every time, like your wife used to, but your wife still loved to play it anyways, so you hope this woman will too.

And maybe, just maybe, she will tell you something about your wife in return. And you will finally have someone who truly understands what this world lost, when your wife passed away.

"Well, it's your choice. I'll go inside and make some tea, and maybe call some people to repair the gate. But if you want, I'll be inside, and you are welcome in whenever you are ready. Anyone who misses her as much as you do will always be welcome here."

You say that, and then you get up. You get up, rub the pricked spots on your neck for good measure, and then you make your way to the front door.

You should call your children before they get back home, so they don't get surprised by the front gate. And you probably should call the gardener to check the grass that got flattened. But for now, you really just want to drink some of your wife's favorite tea.

With that in mind, you make your way to your home.

And you feel a little lighter when, right before you reach the front door, you hear the women getting up, and following after you.

"Ae s'pose ae can stae…" you hear a mumble, thick with sadness, but with the slightest hint of a forced reluctance in it. "Et's not right tae have a shrine without a snek in it, and…"

But she follows you nonetheless. And for the next several hours, the two of you just talk. First about the tea, and then about the weather, and then about the Pasharka you both knew and loved.

The hours turn into days, and the days turn into weeks. And for all that the strange woman never really grows to like you, she doesn't hate you either. Plus, she has such a soft spot for your children and grandchildren.

Besides, every now and then she challenges you to a match of that confusing board game. You think she takes some kind of pleasure in beating you, but you don't mind.

Because you feel like yet another piece of your dear Pasharka has found you, even after she was gone.

---

There is a missing room in the Velvet estate.

None of the maids can understand it. And none of the maids have dared report it to Ponpon yet.

However, the fact remains that, for a few days now, one of the doors in the Velvet estate has disappeared.

It's not something anypony would notice. In fact, it's not something anypony can rightfully prove. But still, the more experienced and trustworthy maids who are allowed into the second floor all agree, and they all share the same gossip through hushed whispers.

There used to be a certain number of guest rooms, on the eastern wing of the second floor. And now, suddenly, there is one less.

Some of them think this is good riddance. After all, that was the ever-locked door of the guest room occupied by a particularly unpleasant guest.

Others think this is bad, because what if the mansion is becoming haunted?

But regardless of the gossiping, and the chattering, and the awkward strolls down the corridor as yet another confused maid counts -one, two, three…- doors to reach the same conclusion, the fact remains that the door is now gone. It is nowhere to be seen.

Or rather, it is now hidden.

Because the same day that door disappeared, a certain guest returned.

She returned, and she once again occupied her room, and she told a secret to the one pony who was the reason she came back to begin with.

"Ae'll be stayin' fer a while, aye? Tell me if ye need anythin'. Oh, an how tha fok did ye get a Brand? Tha's messed up fer a hatchling so young…"​

The Daughter-of-Axes, or maybe Velvet Axe, returned, and she explained to Silky Stream how to reach her room if she ever needed it.

In fact, it was a very simple trick. You just had to enter Silky's room, close the door behind you, then turn around and open it again. And voila, the door to Axe's room would be right in front of you, on the opposite side of the corridor.

Granted, she did not explain to the filly how she did that. And granted, her room was now in a place that made no sense, and that if you really think about it placed it above the entrance hall.

But still, the filly did not care for any of that. Because her friend was back, and everything was fine, and now they were room-neighbors! And as if it wasn't already nice enough to have Selene's room be right next to her, she also had Axe's room right in front of hers!

Why, the mare even (reluctantly) nailed the little sign that the filly gave her, that reads "Axe's Room", on her door. Reluctantly, of course, and only after much pestering.

Still, from that day onward, the Velvet estate lost a room, but it gained a permanent guest. Much to the dismay of certain ponies, and the rejoicing of others.

Because the Daughter-of-Axes was not going anywhere. Not while she had a hatchling to take care of. And even though her true body, and her true nest, were elsewhere, taking care of her departed sister's brood, she knew more than enough tricks to keep an eye in two places at once.

So that was exactly what she was going to do.





The Daughter-of-Axes' skill "Unique" has transformed into the skill "Loyal".

The Daughter-of-Axes' skills "Crafter" has changed slightly.

The Daughter-of-Axes has lost the skill "Uninterested".

The Daughter-of-Axes has (reluctantly) learned the skill "Subrogate".

The Daughter-of-Axes is now a befriended Name, and has become a permanent guest of the Velvet estate. She has been "resummoned" for free, this time only, for her permanent return.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

You are Iron Button.

And right now, you are-

"… fuck."

-well, Reproach's muttering has it about right.

You are Iron Button.

And you, and your partner, are both fucked.

"Language, Mr. Reproach," your wife tells him, before turning your attention back to you. "Anyways, what should I tell her dear?"

And your dear wife, bless her innocence, apparently hasn't noticed how your expression just went pale.

"Just… just to make sure I got it right," you say, very carefully, even as Reproach begin pacing around the room. The two of you being so tired that he isn't even bothering to hide his stress. "Who did you say is at the door?"

You ask that, and your wife narrows her eyes a little bit. She is already used to your partner's antics, even though he has been learning how to be a good visitor. But still, you figure she is picking up on the fact the news she just brought isn't exactly great.

"Well, there's this pegasus mare on the door wearing the uniform. I checked her badge like you taught me, and everything looks alright. She said her name is Drummer Clap, I think? Well, she told me that you two are being called back at the Bureau."

She says that and you… well, you don't even have it in you to properly react.

Because Drummer Clap, notorious Drummer Clap, is quickly becoming a well-known name within the Bureau. Not because she was hoof-picked to be one of the Commissioner's bodyguard, although that is quite the career achievement for a guard-oriented pony. But still, the pegasus mare has become notorious for something else.

Namely because, as far as you heard, she has become the living embodiment of the inside-joke that what the Commissioner wants, she gets.

You already heard stories about doors being kicked out, court orders being torn into pieces, several cases of "collateral damage", and even about a kidnapping. All because the Commissioner wanted something done, and Drummer Clap had been picked to do it.

So, given that Drummer Clap is here because you and Reproach are "wanted" in the Bureau, can only mean that…

"Oh, also, she had a bit of a frown on her face, dear," your wife says, almost as an afterthought. "It looked quite serious."

… well, it means that you should be thankful the mare didn't walk over your wife, and dragged you and Reproach out through the front door while your children watched.

"Thank you dear. Could you please tell her we will be outside in a few minutes?" you say, to which your wife answers with a nod. "Actually, tell her we are coming out as soon as possible. And that we, uh, were painting a wall, and need to clean off our coats," you quickly correct yourself, immediately realizing that even asking for her to wait a few minutes might be too much. At least, if you are to believe the stories.

"Sure… But I almost turned her away. I mean, have you looked at the time? And this is your off-day, too. Now, I know you told me this job didn't have fixed hours, but still!" your wife says, more to herself than anything else, as she turns around and goes towards the front door.

Leaving you and Roach in your office room, quietly thanking the stars that your wife didn't do what she just said, and that she came to tell you about this impromptu visitor instead.

But still.

Still…

"Fuck," Beyond Reproach says again, as he paces around the room. "We are fucked, plain and simple."

He says that, and you can't help but agree. Because…

"Do you think she is onto us?" you ask, feeling your own trepidation rise inside of you. Spreading through your body like a crawling chill.

"What the hay do you think? Of course she did," he says. "We always knew this could happen. In fact, I think we both expected to draw heat at some point. I just… didn't think it would happen so soon."

He says that, and then he looks around at everything you two have accomplished so far.

You two are currently in your home, in Canterlot. In a Bureau-given house that you received when you and your family moved in to the Capital for your job.

In particular, you two are in the place that is, or could have been, your office. This house has plenty of room for your family, and even with your foals getting rooms for themselves there was still a room left to spare. So, your wife let you turn it into an office of sorts.

But here's the thing. You never really brought much work back home. Or at least you didn't plan on doing so… until Reproach told you certain things, and you two started working together on a project of sorts.

And now, everywhere you look, and covering most of the walls of the room, you can see how far you have come. Everywhere you look there are pictures, charts, newspaper cuts and documents old and new, many of them connected by strings of different colors. And all of them about the one pony you two have been investigating so far.

That pony being the Commissioner herself.

This "thing" you two have been working on started… not long ago, all things considered. Because you see, ever since you were paired with Reproach as an investigation pair, he has been telling you about how "something didn't feel right". You thought it was just his eccentricities acting up, at first. After all you knew nothing about the stallion, and it wasn't strange for ponies in your line of business to say their cutie marks were itching. Especially when you work on high profile cases, of which the Bureau has no shortage of.

At some point, Reproach "realized" (as he said) that the focus of his misgivings and suspicions seemed to be centered around the Commissioner herself. You pushed back against the idea, at first, because it wouldn't do for him to think that about a pony chosen by the Princesses for the job.

But then, day in and day out as you listened to his mumblings and theories… well, some of it started to make sense.

Some of it started to make sense, and it only added up the more you looked into it.

At first, you thought Reproach was just going mad. Until you started agreeing with him.

So, you two did what you do best. You started looking into it. Checking small leads, at first, whenever it was convenient to do so. And following up on your discoveries whenever possible.

But the problem was that... well, the more you searched, the more things you found. To the point that, this far into your investigation, the Commissioner's story just doesn't make sense. And it got to the point that your investigations turned into one of you juggling your usual duties, while the other went off to chase yet another lead, sometimes for several days in a row.

The more you two dig, the deeper this hole gets. And for all that you two haven't reached the bottom of it yet, the picture that you have painted so far is… bad. Very bad. Because the only piece that fits all of this together, the only way that all the evidence you found makes sense, is if…

…

Well, it doesn't sound like you two will get to the bottom of it anyways, so what does it matter?

"So, what do we do?" you ask. Because although you two discussed the possibility of being caught early, neither of you thought it would happen anytime soon. And all your contingencies depended on some future safety net you would build, probably by having more ponies from the Bureau brought into this once you had enough evidence to convince them.

"Well, scramming doesn't sound like a good idea," Reproach says, looking around at the room, and then out through a gap on the window shutters. "Medium to long term she knows where our families live. And short term, she brought a pegasus to fetch us to begin with. And I don't fancy our chances against that Drummer mare, even if we jump her."

You purse your lips, only slightly surprised by how your partner immediately jumped to the most gruesome of the alternatives.

But still, he is right. Reproach is not a stupid pony, even if he is cynical. And if the Commissioner is calling for you two, at this time of the night and during your off day, then your only alternative would be to run and go dark.

That is, if you were willing to leave your family behind, which you are not. And if you were able to outrun a trained pegasus, which you don't think you can.

"So, we do the only thing we can," he says, letting out a rare and stressed neigh. "Time to pay the piper. And hope to the sun and moon that this is just a social call, and that if we keep appearances well enough we might come out unscathed."

You feel another wave of cold, damp dread rushing through your body. But even now, you know he is right.

After all, if your "suspicions" about the Commissioner are correct, then she has other ways to deal with you two that are much more convenient than calling you like this. So, the best thing you can do is hope against hope, and act like nothing is wrong.

But if you are wrong…

"Alright, let's get this over with," you say.

And with that, the two of you get out of your office, locking the door behind you as if that would make any difference. And then you go outside to meet the Commissioner's messenger.



- - -



The worst thing that can happen tonight is an execution. The worst day this night can end is with you and your partner either dead, or locked so deep underground the Bureau that it doesn't make a difference if you are alive or not.

The best thing that can happen is that the Commissioner is just calling you two for some sort of briefing, or because she wants your input on a delicate situation that just came up. After all, although the investigative teams are officially under a loose hierarchy within the investigation department, you and Reproach have been conspicuously "closer" to the higher ups than the rest of the teams. And it is not unusual for you two to be called, by the Deputy or some other higher-up, for brass meetings.

And as the two of you enter the Lunar Bureau, following Drummer Clap through the familiar entrance hall and being greeted by the guards on night shift, you can't help but think that…

That you have no idea of where this night is going.

Because this doesn't look like an execution. Everypony feels perfectly normal, if tired after a day of work. And when you reach the top floor, the Secretariat looks busy as ever.

But the sight of secretaries and scriveners going to and from the Secretariat, carrying books and scrolls and hurried whispers about what changes need to be done, certainly doesn't evoke the idea that this is going to be an ambush.

Beyond Reproach is eerily quiet next to you, as the two of you stand at the end of the corridor while waiting to be called. He is quiet, and you can't see any of his nervous ticks. Which means, you know, that he is intentionally restraining himself. He is nervous, you are sure of it, but not enough to try anything erratic.

So, you suppose you should do the same.

The long corridor, or the "Command Corridor" as some of the guards call it, stretches out before you. At the very end are the large double doors that lead to the Director's office, kept closed and unused for now. Close to the middle of the corridor, to your left and right, are the Commissoiner's office and the Secretariat, their doors right in front of one another. And you two can only watch as a white mare, her dark mane and tail tied into buns, goes from one door to the other with all the indications that she might as well be the busiest pony in Equestria right now.

You two wait, and you wait, and then you wait some more. Until finally…

"The Commissioner will be seeing you two now," the mare says, and you look up to see the secretary mare standing in the middle of the corridor, looking at you two expectantly. That is, until you give her a thankful nod, to which the mare answers by rushing back into the Secretariat and closing the door behind her.

You hear a few voices coming from the closed door, which sounds like a trio of ponies discussing what they had to do next. But you were too busy following Reproach as he makes his way to the Commissioner's office.

"Well, tonight feels like business as usual. Plus, we passed by plenty of witnesses," Reproach says under his breath, as you two walk down the corridor. "Doesn't feel like bad news to me."

"Except, of course, for the fact that Equestria is riddled with shapeshifters," you say, mirroring his tone.

And the slow, grim nod he gives you doesn't make either of you feel any better.



- - -



Your heart is beating inside your chest.

No, it is hammering in there.

You have been here before, yes. Currently, you and Reproach are sitting in the Commissioner's office. And the mare herself, the subject of your current… investigation, is sitting behind her desk, looking at you two.

You don't feel like you are in danger. Not in immediate danger, at least. However, you are still worried. For two reasons.

First, because although you don't think you are in danger, the Commissioner doesn't look normal either. There isn't anything wrong about her, of course. However, her expression as she looks at you is…

There is no other way to describe it. The way she is looking at you can only be described as smug.

And the second reason why you are so nervous is because-

"These are the two I've been telling you about, Cadance."

"I see, I see. It is a pleasure to meet you two, and I apologize for only being available this late at night."

-because there is a Princess here with you. The Princess of Love, Cadance herself, is sitting by the side of the room, with a calm smile on her face. Floating a cup of something sweet by her seat as if she was just chatting with the Commissioner before you arrived.

No wonder the Secretariat was abuzz with activity, even at this hour. There is an alicorn in the building with you mere ponies.

To be honest, you are so tense that the best you can do right now is nothing at all. You are doing your best to not shake on your seat, and to not say something stupid, and to not sweat from the sheer weight that is pressing down on your back.

You do your best to look absolutely normal, or at least like a regular pony who has just walked into a room with a Princess, as you wait for what comes next.

And to your surprise, you hear Reproach clearing his throat, as he somehow musters the courage to speak up.

"You asked for us, Commissioner. And we wouldn't dream of taking up a Princess' time. So, what do you need us for?" he asks.

To which the Commissioner answers with a slow nod, still with that strangely amused smile on her face, as she looks towards Princess Cadance. The two of them sharing a glance that you can only guess the meaning of.

"Well, let me begin by saying that Princess Cadance is here at my invitation. This is a meeting that I called for, so I'm afraid you two aren't here because the Princess of Love needs us to do something for her," she says. "However, for all that I called her here to listen into this meeting, she is also here because… well, I wanted you two to act like there is a Princess in the room. And what better way than having one where you can see her?" she asks.

Her tone is sharp, but still somewhat amused. And you get the sinking feeling that she is somehow toying with you two.

You swallow something dry.

"And the reason I called you two here is because, well, I would like to discuss your recent activities! Maybe clear the air a little bit. And what better way to do something as transparently as possible than with a Princess in the room?" she says, leaning back on her chair, as if making herself more comfortable. "I mean, there is no better judge to what is right and wrong than a Princess, no? So, if it happens that I am in the wrong, this would definitely be the ideal setting to let any hidden cats out of their bags, no?"

Your throat goes entirely dry, now. And you can almost hear Reproach grinding his teeth inside his closed mouth.

Because this can't be a coincidence anymore. What she just said, and the way she said it, makes it abundantly clear that she is onto you two.

So why did she call for this meeting? To toy with you two? She couldn't possibly be thinking about ousting herself. But, as she said, having a Princess in the room is… well, it's abundantly stupid for anypony who is not in the right.

Unless… unless Princess Cadance is on her side, somehow?

The recent past, of Princess Luna herself being impersonated by a shapeshifter, comes to mind. And for all that everything suggests they can't do something like that anymore… well, you could always be wrong about that.

"Velvet, please. I'm not infallible," Cadance says, casually rolling her eyes and letting out a chuckle.

"Oh, hush you, Mrs. Perfect Wife," the Commissioner answers, as if that was an inside joke of theirs.

And suddenly, you don't feel much safer or confident about Princess Cadance's presence.

Although this still doesn't feel like an execution… you think.

You hope.

"Now, back to the topic at hoof. You two are, without any need for modesty, my two best detectives. And your performance has been nothing short than stellar. However…"

The Commissioner says that and then she lights up her horn, floating towards her desk a pile of documents.

And of course, you immediately recognize those documents. They have your hoofwriting all over them.

After all, they are the reports you have been writing these last few weeks.

"However, I couldn't help but notice you two have been getting slower, while doing your job. You two are still ahead of every other detective, of course, but your work has definitely slowed down when compared to your initial pace."

She suddenly cuts off her magic, letting the piles of report fall on her desk with a loud thud.

"And of course," she says, laughing a little as if she is delivering the punchline of a joke. "Of course, I also couldn't help but notice Iron Button has taken to writing all of the reports. Now, this could just be you two finding a balance, and I could believe it if you said Iron is just better with the paperwork, and this is an agreement you two reached when it comes to workload."

She narrows her eyes as she says that, looking at you, and then at Reproach, as if trying to read something that is written on your faces.

And you only realize you haven't taken a breath in a very long time when your lungs scream at you that you need to breathe.

"But something tells me that's not it. Something tells me you have been using your spare time, or whatever time you could spare, to investigate something else. Something so important and so secret you couldn't tell the rest of the Bureau. And that you certainly haven't been sanctioned by any Princess to do. Something tells me that you have been looking into… me, the Commissioner of the Lunar Bureau," she finishes.

And for a moment, albeit a very long moment indeed, the air around you is so heavy you feel like you are being buried alive.

Part of you thinks this is it, that this is the part she just jumps you, or that shapeshifters burst out of the very floor to finish you two off. Another part of you thinks it is Reproach who is about to jump the Commissioner, yelling at the Princess what you two have discovered so far, and hoping that she is not one of them.

But that moment never comes.

And instead, the tension in the air bursts, almost like a bubble, when the Commissioner brings her two hoofs together and-



-Clop!-



-lets out a loud clop of her hoofs as her metal horseshoes collide.

Followed by, of all things, an amused giggle. As if nothing in the world was wrong right now.

And then, with a tone that sounds almost jovial, she leans forward in her desk and asks.

"So, what did you two find out so far?" she asks.

But for a moment, you were so certain that this was it, and you were so certain that you two were done for, that you don't even know how to react. Because even if she was toying you, and even if this was all her trying to gloat before making you two disappear, this has already gone too far. The time to strike has come and passed, and she… and you two…!

"Do you think this is a joke?!" Reproach says, throwing caution to the wind and almost standing up as he slams a hoof against his chair.

You are surprised. By the sun, you can even see Princess Cadance jump up in surprise. But the dam holding back Reproach's nervousness seems to have finally broken, and it appears he is ready to be done with all of this. Even if it ends with you two getting killed captured or killed.

However, once again, the Commissioner seems completely unphased. She looks unphased, and still amused.

And her response to Reproach is very carefully worded, perhaps even delicate, despite the clear threat behind it.

"Yes, Beyond Reproach. I do think this is all a joke," she says, very slowly. "Because the alternative of me thinking this is a joke, is me taking this seriously. Which means turning this chat, with a Princess as my witness, into a disciplinary hearing, where I will be forced to punish you two for acting without permission, wasting Bureau resources on an unauthorized investigation, and breaking and entering into my estate while my family was asleep."

You finally feel your forehead breaking out with sweat. Yes, this confirms it. She is onto you, and apparently she has been onto you for a while now. And as you speak, there are probably ponies breaking down your front door to confiscate all the evidence you two collected so far… that is, if she even feels the need to collect anything from you two.

Because… well, because Reproach was the one who sneaked into her home, and he's the damn quietest pony you ever met. Plus, you two are sure none of her bodyguards noticed him. So, if she knows about that, then she certainly knows about everything else.

And besides, the threat behind her words is crystal clear. You two are on the knife's edge, and even Reproach backs down after she said that.

"So yes, Reproach. We will resolve all of this in a civilized manner, because it would be rude to do anything else in front of a Princess," she says, the edge once again disappearing from her voice as she leans back on her cushioned chair. "So why don't we… yes, why don't we play a little game?"

She says that, and her words just hang in the air for a while. Until finally, once she realizes neither of you will speak up, she continues with a small sigh.

"Well, I understand why you two are nervous. But let me explain what I have in mind," the Commissioner continues. "I know you two have been looking into me, and it reached the point my two best detectives are now concerned about this, which is in turn affecting your official work. So, we are going to play a little game here. We are going to take turns asking questions, and the other side has to answer them. Simple, no?"

She looks at Reproach expectantly, as if hoping for some kind of answer. But when none arrives, and he all but glares back at her with a hard expression, she rolls her eyes and turns to you.

And you… give her the smallest nod, that you understand.

"Wonderful. Now, here's the kicker, I promise to tell the truth. You two have been investigating me, right? So, ask away! You get one question, and then I get one in return. What would you two like to know, that could help with… whatever it is you discovered so far?"

She asks that, and then she waits.

She waits, Princess Cadance gives her a curious glance, which she answers by shaking her head as if to say "everything is fine". And then she waits.

And you… you two have no idea what to do next.

Because everything she said, everything she accused you two of doing, is right. You two have been investigating her, and you two have found out a pile of things about the Commissioner that just don't add up.

Well, it all adds up if she is somehow one of the monstrous shapeshifters. But that is something you can't prove yet, and that is also something you two dearly hope isn't true.

There are also other, less likely explanations, that would at best paint the Commissioner as yet another corrupt noble. And the things you discovered about her family don't make that any less likely. But still, the itch in your cutie marks tell you two that this is not a simple case of corruption and power-grabbing.

So, given your strong suspicions that the Commissioner is one of the shapeshifters, it is very easy to say that…

… well, that neither of you expected to be in a situation like this. In her office. With a Princess present. Playing a "game" where she claims she will be telling the truth.

It just doesn't make sense, no matter how hard you try to put a frame around this picture.

However, before you can even get a hold of yourself, Beyond Reproach speaks up.

And almost immediately, he gallops towards one of the biggest problems you two have faced thus far.



"What does your cutie mark look like?"



He asks that. He immediately asks that.

And the Commissioner answers… with a smile.

"Ah, curious. Very curious indeed," she says, slowly, thoughtfully, as if chewing down on what his questions actually meant.

Because sure enough, one of the biggest problems you have faced so far, and one of the first things an investigator is taught to discover in a case, is that you don't yet know what the Commissioner's cutie mark looks like.

No, you really haven't even found out that, yet.

Nopony has ever seen her without a dress or a uniform, and you two certainly don't have access to her personnel file… if such a file even exists to begin with. So, when you agreed to join Reproach in this mad quest of investigating the Commissioner, one of the first things you tried to figure out was what her cutie mark looked like.

Even if only for the sake of having an image of it in the ad-hoc file you were creating on her.

But you never managed to find out what it is. There are no images, no pictures, no eyesights or reports.

And when you two dug deep enough, you actually discovered that…

"Are you asking this because you want to know, or did you two… find out about my scar?" she asks.

And just like that, she kicks down Reproach's attempt at secrecy as if it was a wall of glass.

Because yes, she is right. When you and Reproach dug deep enough, you found out why the Commissioner is always dressed like she is.

It took digging into the medical files of an old pediatrician, one that already passed away and used to provide his services to nobles, in a discrete, quiet and very expensive manner.

But eventually, you discovered that the Commissioner suffered some kind of accident, when she was very young. One that her family went to great lengths to hide, successfully, but that apparently turned the Commissioner into a regular customer of that doctor for several years.

There were no pictures in her file, and it was identified by name rather than by cutie mark. But still, the description of the wound itself used the words "disfigurement," "crippling" and "irreparable".

And what is more, the moment Reproach asked his question, you knew he wasn't truly interested in her cutie mark. Instead, he wanted to check if the Commissioner sitting in front of you has that scar to begin with.

"I suppose you two think I am a changeling," she says, speaking to herself as if thinking out loud. Waving a hoof at Princess Cadance as the alicorn lets out a gasped what? "You two think the real Commissioner was swapped, at some point. Especially given how she didn't have bodyguards until very recently. So yes, it would make sense to see how faithful this swap was. After all, if I were a sloppy changeling, I would have just copied her outward appearance, dress and all, and not realized her flank was damaged."

Yes, that was Reproach's idea, you think. He was hoping to use his question as an excuse to verify the Commissioner's cutie mark, and instead check if her flank is scarred like the medical reports said.

"But if I know this much about the Commissioner's flank, then I also know about her scar, and I would have copied it if I were a changeling," she concludes, reaching the same inferences you had also reached the moment she started speaking. "So I'm afraid this wasn't a useful question for you to ask."

You can hear Reproach let out a low grunt, next to you. And you also feel somewhat frustrated.

Granted, you are more worried about how this feels like you are playing a board game, with your life on the line. But still, you can't help but share in his frustration.

"Also, did you really just try to look up a married mare's skirt? Shame on you Detective Beyond," she says, jokingly. "And also, I promised to answer your questions truthfully, not take off my clothes. So here is your answer: My cutie mark looks like an open book, with blank pages, with a butterflies flying around it."

You answer her with… a slow nod.

Because on one hoof, that is important information. If you leave this place alive, that is.

But on the other hoof, well if this is a "game" then this is the part where the Commissioner asks her question.

And you have no idea where this is going.

Is she going to ask you something sadistically cruel like "how would you like to die?"

Is she going to ask you for details about your investigation? If so, then why? She has enough authority to make you two disappear, and she already knows about the break-in into her own house. So, you can't imagine her not knowing about everything you two uncovered so far.

So what in Equestria is she going to ask…?

"My turn," she says, her voice almost sounding excited as she speaks. "So, for my question I want to ask… What is your favorite number? No, no, let me rephrase that. Pick a number between ten and twenty," she says.

And you… your mind goes blank for a moment.

Because what kind of question is that?!

Your mind blanks, but you can feel Reproach's body heating up next to you. He thinks, you are sure, that she is just toying with you two now. And he is about to do something stupid.

So, you speak up before he has the chance to do so.

"Seventeen," you say, almost raising a hoof to push down against Reproach's shoulder. But you continue to speak before he can act.



"And for our next question. You… you were attacked, recently. What was nature of your attackers?!"



You say that, almost blurting it out, to keep Reproach in check.

But deep down, you also asked another thing that had been stumping you two for a long time now, in your investigations.

Because according to the reports, the Commissioner was attacked. The public story was that there was a single assailant, and the less public story is that there were four, which she fought off on her own.

However, the details of how their bodies were found, and the evidence you found around her mansion… coupled with a certain incident that just happened in Manehattan, made you and Reproach think that…

"Ah… good, good, you are picking up on this game well, Iron," she says, giving you a satisfied nod.

She then looks towards Princess Cadance, and the Princess nods back at her as if confirming something.

"Very well. No reason to beat around this bush, and the rules are the rules," she says.

And then she brings her hoofs together under her chin, looking straight into your eyes as she answers.

"My house was attacked by four armed ponies… and one of the ice-made creatures we have classified as a Windigo."

Her expression is serious, as she says that. But for some reason, you can't help but see excitement in her eyes. Almost as if she is waiting for something to happen.

Almost as if she is hoping to catch the moment something crosses you mind, and bleeds down to your expression.

But the only thing you can feel right now is…

"You have got to be kidding me," Reproach whispers next to you.

And you agree.

The only thing you can feel right now is horror.

Because you, and everypony else in the Bureau, knows what it took to kill the one creature, the one Windigo, that was found in Manehattan.

And yes, that does tie up more loose ends. That confirms that the Gardeners were the ones who attacked the Commissioner, and it explains why they had one of the beasts stored in Manehattan but didn't send one after the Commissioner. And the answer to that is that they actually did.

But… how could the Commissioner have defended herself on her own?

There are too many possibilities for you to consider right now. None of them good.

But still, if she is telling the truth, this answers several questions you two have been floating around for a while now.

Your blood, once again, begins to run cold.

Because what else could be sitting in front of you if not a monster? What else could the Commissioner be, then, if not one of the shapeshifters? That would certainly explain, well, everything. Her resources, and her ability to do what she did, and so on.

But that, in turn, also means that…

"My turn," she says. "What time is it?"

She asks that, and once again you have no idea where she is trying to get with this.

Is this her species' idea of gloating? Is this just a long, drawn out session of her playing with her food? Are you two just missing something?

"It's late," Reproach answers, clearly as unhappy as you are about all this. "And we don't know the exact time, so that's the truth. And your rules said we just need to tell the truth, and not that we need to give a correct answer."

Another giggle from the thing that is pretending to be the Commissioner, nodding to herself as if proud of Reproach's answer.

"Very good! Very good indeed. Now, my next question will be my last. Three for each sounds more than enough. So, what will your last question be?" she says.

And you don't even try to pretend that her words just now weren't ominous.

You can feel one of your hindlegs trembling under you.

You can see several veins popping up on Reproach's neck.

And you almost jump up in surprise when your partner just turns and looks at you, as if asking for your help, or maybe your permission, to ask something.

Still, you look into his eyes, and you can see that…

Ah, but of course.

This is obvious.

In fact, this should have been your first question.

Yes, you can see in Reproach's eyes exactly what he wants to ask for your next, and last, question.

So, you give him a nod.

And you watch in muted dread as he turns back to the false Commissioner, and speaks up.



"For our last question then… Who are you?"



He asks that.

And you two watch as the Commissioner… narrows her eyes.

She narrows her eyes, and then she looks at Princess Cadance (who you don't even know if she is a real Princess anymore), and then she looks back at you two.

And then, she gives you and Reproach a slow, and strangely noble, nod.

As if somehow, you two had passed some sort of test.

"The answer to your question is, also, the answer to my final question. What a coincidence, I say," she says.

She says that, and then she lights up her horn.

But to your surprise, she doesn't float up the reports on her desk, or any other items, and she doesn't use her magic to lock the door or anything threatening like that.

Instead, she just opens the nearby window, revealing the night sky outside.

"So, I asked you for a number, and you gave me seventeen. I then asked what time it is, and true to your word, it is indeed late. The night-sky is already up in its full glory," she says, getting up from her chair, and making her way towards the window.

She takes a second or two to look outside, as if appreciating the clear and shiny stars in the sky.

And then she turns back to face you two.

"So, my final question is… who could do something like this?"

She asks that.

And before you can ask what the hay she is talking about, she raises a hoof.

She raises her right hoof, and less than a second later she brings it down to the ground.

Clip​

The sound of her metal horseshoe hitting the ground echoes through the room, for a moment.

But before either of you can react, she lifts her hoof again, repeating the same movement from a moment before.

CLOP​

And this time, when her horseshoe hits the ground, something happens.

The moment her horseshoe hits the ground, a shooting star races through the sky. Flying through the dark firmament, right behind her, as if the sides of the open window were the frame of a painting.

You… you are not sure what just… well, it was a strange coincidence, but you have no idea what this has to do with anything and…

… and then she raised her hoof again-

Clip-CLOP​

-and another shooting start scratches a line of white through the dark of space.

You feel something twist inside of you. Another shooting star, another impossible coincidence.

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP​

She raises her hoof and strikes it down on the floor, like a metronome. And with every second hit, like an instrument player following a maestro, another shooting star races through the sky.

The twist inside your chest turns into a block of ice. Your mind is completely blank. Or at least the conscious part of your brain is.

But the rest of your brain, that subconscious part of you that is always working, always linking clues and evidence together to form the big picture, it is working. More than just that, it is racing.

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP​

You feel your back straightening.

You feel the fur of your coat standing on its end.

You feel the sheer, stone-cold paralysis that is surrounding both you and Reproach like a tomb, tighten its grip.

And almost as if in cue, your mind reminds you of something she said at the very beginning of this meeting.

She wanted you to act like there is a Princess in the room.

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP

Clip-CLOP​

And in less than half a minute, precisely seventeen shooting stars have graced the night sky. One after the other. Like disciplined members of a marching band following their leader.

But you… you…!

You have no idea what to think. You have no idea how to react to this.

Because shooting stars… they are not miracles. They are not an impossible sight. In fact, ponies with cutie marks related to stars are able to predict when they will happen, sometimes.

But still, they are rare enough for there to be stories about how they can grant wishes.

And what is more, you don't know much about the night sky, but you have never, ever heard of shooting stars behaving like this. Falling from the sky one after the other, with perfect timing, on the same spot, like a line of musicians following the direction of a maestro.

There is… there is only…

There is only one pony in all of Equestria who could ever do something like this.

And when you finally understand it, when it finally hits you, your mind reels back, in embarrassment or perhaps even fear, as you remember how you have been acting thus far.

Because, as she said, you haven't really been acting like there is a Princess in the room here with you.

"Now, I understand how you feel. And to be very clear, I am not disappointed or mad that you two started investigating me behind my back," she… the Commissioner begins to say that very calmly, as she makes her way back to her seat. "In fact, I was hoping something like this would happen."

She sits down on her chair, all to big for a mare of her size, but still comfortable.

And throughout all of that, she continues to speak.

"Because yes, the timeline doesn't make any sense. Several months ago, the castle gets attacked by an unknown source and… Princess Luna disappears. She disappears, a nation-wide search begins, and it ends when a false Princess Luna is located."

She says that, and you nod. You nod as she speaks, and you realize a few seconds later that Reproach is doing the same.

Because this timeline, this story she is telling you, is one that you and Reproach have already repeated to each other to exhaustion, while you slaved away in your office trying to fit the evidence you gathered so far.

"During the search, an unknown, and by all accounts disinherited, noblemare comes to prominence. She somehow makes her way to the heart of the search efforts in Canterlot. And after the false Princess Luna takes over the castle, she attempts to break in with one of Celestia's former apprentices."

Yes, the break-in attempt. That was another thing you two never managed to make sense out of. That as another piece of the puzzle that just didn't fit, and one of the few things that spoke against the idea of the Commissioner being a shapeshifter.

Because why would a shapeshifter work against the false Luna? Why would she attempt the break-in like she did?

Unless of course, that break-in was the moment the noblemare was swapped out. But even that felt unlikely.

"Fast forward to today, that same noblemare nopony is… well, sitting in front of you, wearing the cap of Commissioner of the Lunar Bureau, and trusted as one of the few ponies who can act without the oversight of anypony but the Princesses themselves."

She says that, and then she… smiles.

She just gives you two a soft, understanding smile, as you two try to recover from your shock.

"It doesn't make sense, does it? Of course not," she says. "How could this same noblemare also have time to investigate the Greenhoofs? How could this same noblemare survive an attack against her home, all on her own? How could this same noblemare gather a team of agents, of witnesses, and fight another Windigo while everypony watched? Well, it makes sense if I am not who I say that I am. And given the dangers we are fighting, I would be offended if you didn't think I was a changeling."

Another smile, another short pause.

She looks at you two, and then at Princess Cadance, and then at the open window that leads to the night sky.

"But what if I am also not a changeling?" she asks.

The implications of her words being more than obvious.

"Because think about it from this perspective. After the first attack against the Royal Castle… Princess Luna disappeared from the public eye. But what if… what if she wasn't really gone?"

Your mind is finally recovering itself from the shock. And yes… yes. Yes!

Now it all makes sense.

Now all the pieces come together.

And now, all you can ask yourself is how you could have been so blind.

Because what if the first disappearance was… well, not nearly as long as you were all told? What if… what if Princess Celestia had found Princess Luna almost immediately?

Well, in that case you would have Princess Luna away from the public eye, working from the shadows, and the entire country stirred up into a frenzy while looking for her.

And it would be simple, even trivial, for Princess Luna to take the guise of some random pony. A noblemare would do, to give her some authority and power, but still it would be better to pick somepony who lives in isolation so nopony thought much of her new disguise.

And the reclusive noblemare called Velvet Covers would be the perfect pony for that. Because what kind of pony would not do whatever a Princess asked, even her request was for you to hide yourself while she took over your identity?

"A search of that level would be perfect to search for dangers we already knew were lurking around. And when did the searches end…? Ah, of course. When we found a creature who was powerful enough to impersonate a Princess."

That also makes sense now. It all fits together.

Because how could the noblemare "Velvet Covers" think to break into the Royal Castle, when everypony else was fooled by the false Princess Luna?

Who could have possibly suspected that the Luna that was found was false… if not the original herself?

You feel like an idiot. You feel like an idiot, and you feel like you should bow down and apologize for everything that happened so far.

Because what were you thinking? What kind of madness were you under, to try to investigate somepony like her?!

"The Catastrophe was a… tragedy, yes. And something nopony wishes had happened. But now, we can only try to make the best of this situation. We have the shapeshifters on the backhoof, and we have finally organized ourselves to ensure something like this will never happen again. Which also explains why… well, why a recluse noblemare like my would be given the title of Commissioner."

She says that, and you…

You…

"But why… Well, why all of this? Why did you let us invest… actually, did you let us investigate you?" Reproach asks, somehow finding a way to say the questions that are now roaring inside your mind. "Why? A-and… and what next? What should we do next? What would you have us do?"

But even to that, the Pr-… the Commissioner raises a placating hoof, as if all was well.

"I did this… because I need ponies I can trust. And because I need ponies who are the best at what they do. And every day I do this, every day this goes on, is another bread crumb I leave behind. Still, for all the breadcrumbs that I left, so far you two were the only ones to get here."

She waves a hoof around her office, as if to say that "here" means this night, at this place, having this conversation.

As if to tell you two that anypony, anypony who got this far into her charade would be brought into her secret. But still, for better or for worse, you two were the only ones who did it so far.

You two were the first.

"But I am a firm believer that the right ponies, in the right place, can make all the difference. So, I am trusting you two with this. I am trusting you two with this secret, and… and I have a task for you two. A job that I will trust entirely into your hoofs, because you have proven to me not only that you have the requisite skills to do it, but also that you have the determination to see it through."

You were investigating your own Commissioner, after all, she says with a smile.

And then, the mare who leads the Lunar Bureau gives you two your next task. An additional, secret mission, that she expects… that she needs you two to perform, on top of your regular duties.

Find the ponies in the Bureau who I can trust. The ones who I can trust to follow me even before they follow Princess Celestia. Bring them to me. And I will give them, and you, the tools to fight against the darkness.

She gives you that missions, and she tells you a secret, and then… she lets you two go.

You and Beyond Reproach give the two mares in the room your deepest bows, before you leave.

"My Princess," you two say, almost in unison, before making your way out.

Neither of you specify to who you said that.

And you think that was her intention all along.





"Princess Luna is the Director of the Lunar Bureau." That phrase has started to be whispered a lot more frequently, within the walls of the Lunar Bureau. To some that is just a catchy saying, which carries with it some hope, and also some wistfulness. But to others, those ponies who answer that phrase with a knowing smile, it means something else entirely. Like a code word or a secret hoofshake, used by those in the know.

You have established a cult within the Lunar Bureau. It is not a "cult" in the true sense of the word. And it is not a "cult" as you were supposed to be a part of in the beginning of this quest. But still, a number of ponies in the Bureau have become privy to a secret, and are being educated in the ways of the Lores. And that number is slowly, but steadily, growing thanks to the efforts of your diligent "lieutenants".

You have reached the maximum "loyalty" you can reach with the Lunar Bureau. For that, you have automatically "converted" it to your use, and started to secretly spread the use of the Lores among its ranks. You may no longer spend Commissioner actions to "ingratiate yourself with the Bureau", because there is no need for that. However, you also (currently) cannot "speed up" the process of bringing more Bureau ponies into the know.

Narratively, your "lieutenants" will slowly bring more Bureau ponies into the know, and into your grasp. Mechanically, for all intents and purposes, you have converted "The Lunar Bureau" in its entirety. Although problems can still appear depending on your actions.

You can now "Create institutional knowledge" for free, once per turn, during your Follower's phase. "Institutional Knowledge" is a level 1 manuscript that will "introduce" the Bureau to the selected Lore, giving them access to your Library on the relevant Lore as well. You may create an additional piece of "Institutional Knowledge" by using your Commissioner's Action for the turn.

And for now, you will let the slow process of introducing the Lores to the Bureau to happen at its own pace.

Spoiler: Right after...

"Are you sure this worked?" Princess Cadance asked, as she got up from her seat.

"No better way to convince a smart pony then making him think it was his idea," the noblemare answered, shrugging as she did. "They were convinced something was wrong, so I just threw another bait. It was a coinflip chance if they would go for it or not. Besides, this was not my idea…"

She said that, and then she lit up her horn, opening a nearby closet.

And instead of a pile of documents falling out of it, the open doors of the closet revealed a filly, sitting on a cushion.

"Are you alright, dear?" she noblemare asked, concern written in her voice. "I was so worried you wouldn't be able to breathe properly in there and…"

"I'm fine, mom. It's alright," the filly answered, jumping out of the closet. "Hello there, Princess Cadance."

"Oh, hi Sel… I mean… Princess Luna? By the sun, I still don't know how to act around you. Oh, and how did you manage to do your magic... from inside the closet, while looking like that?" the pink Princess said towards the filly.

"Speaking of acting, Selene dear, are you sure about this as well? I mean, the Lunar Bureau is… this is all yours. Literally. Are you sure you want them to think all of this about me?" the noblemare asked, this time voicing another concern.

"Yes, I do. I thought this over, mom. I don't have the time to foalsit the Bureau, and you are doing a great job. And this way, they get the morale boost of working for a Princess without me having to learn how to… run all of this. Everypony wins," she finished with a confident smile. One that didn't look nearly as mature as she hoped, and much cuter than expected, on a filly her size.

To which the two mares answered the only way they could.

"If you say so, Princess Luna…"

"Whatever you want, Selene dear."

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Spoiler: Winning Plan

[X] Plan Prudent KISSing
-[X] (AotL) Lantern
-[X] (Forge) Forge 3 reagent
-[X] (Knock) Explore the Summit
-[X] (Winter) Invoke a Risen
-[X] (Social) Teach Selene
-[X] Fleeting Opportunity: Family
-[X] Fleeting Opportunity: Friends
-[X] Perform the Forge's Redemption
--[X] Sacrifice Forge 3 reagent
--[X] At Jade's old house
-[X] Sacrament: Through the Foggy Mirror (4x) (only 3 actions consumed)
-[X] Uncle Steppes has come to visit! But every time you speak to him, you get the impression he is… unwell. Even though he hides it well from the fillies. Spend some more time with him, and see if you can help him.

[X] Plan Spreading Ourselves Thin Always Gets Us Punished
-[X] Do not leash anypony.
-[X][DETECTIVES] Follow Up: Changelings
-[X][CONSTABLES] (FOLLOW UP) Your detectives have given you a very long list, of ponies and places involved in the attempt against your life. Round them up and put them all in jail, before this trail goes cold.
-[X][COMMISSIONER] The Lunar Bureau is not the only recently-minted institution in Equestria. Try to contact the others.
--[X] Eclipse(?), and Midday Dew.
-[X][JADE] Research "A Memory of Light" (Current progress 0/100, uses Learning and LANTERN)
-[X] (Baldomare-Gift) Edge 6 book
-[X][BALDOMARE] Channel an Influence. (Secret Histories)
-[X][AXE] Ask for a Knock lesson.
-[X][MAREINETTE] Channel an Influence. (Grail)
-[X][SELENE] Soothe the night. (Her Winter realization. Unknown effects, if any.)
-[X][RARITY] Take a Commission.
-[X] Needs must. Ask somepony to procure you a dead body from the local cemetery.
-[X] Three extra Velvet actions! (Costs 9 follower actions)
-[X] Something Else (lend Heartifact to Comet)
-[X] You will have a follower perform a RotT ritual, to search for a Level 7 book. (Jade Whistle action BORROWED from Turn 22)

You are Lady Velvet Covers, and you are currently in your office-turned-hobby-place… room. Your workshop? Your library? It doesn't really matter.

All that matters is that the clock did not stop ticking. And just like that, the month is now over.

"So, what do we do next?" your daughter, the one other pony who is in the room with you, asks.

And you answer Selene's question with… a few moments of silence.

You need to think about it.

Because yes, you need to decide what you should be focusing on personally, over the next few weeks. As always, you have several little plates that you need to keep spinning. And on the backdrop of everything, like an ever-pulsing sore on the side of your mind, is the knowledge that Glory is so very close.

But you also need to worry about other things, and other ponies. The Bureau being one of them.

And besides, for all that Selene asked you to handle the Bureau, you still think you should ask her opinion on what you should do next. To get her thinking about the subject, and to slowly prepare her for the future, if nothing else.

After all, it wouldn't do for you to not prepare your daughter for the future. She is a Princess after all!

"One of the things I am worried about is the Bureau. Or rather, the latest reports they gave me… Would you mind if I talked to you about it? I need somepony to soundboard some ideas, if nothing else," you say.

And for a while, you and Selene discuss the matters of Equestria.



The Lunar Bureau has brought news, these last few days, and you have yet to decide where to direct them next.

Under the cover of the night, using a train cart commandeered by Bureau authority, your detectives have brought back the body of a dead changeling. It was killed during its capture, after being cornered in the distant frontier town known as Dodge City.

The Lunar Bureau may now act upon Dodge City. You may either order your investigators to "Further investigate Dodge City", to search for more traces of changeling activity, or you may order your constables to "Siege Dodge City", for a more direct (if brutal) approach.

Furthermore, your Constables have reported that the roundups of Manehattan has been completed. Nine out of every ten warrants were successfully carried out, and the remaining ponies are either on the run, or presumed dead. The cutie marks of those who are yet on the run have been spread out to all the constabularies in Equestria, ensuring they will never again live without fear of arrest.

The remnants of the Wildhoof Club which reformed into the Gardeners have been completely eradicated. They will no longer be an issue. And the only pony from the Wildhoof Club who remains unaccounted for, as far as you know, is Windy Flakes.



Selene gives you her opinion, which you are satisfied to see is mostly aligned with your own, and you store all that information away to make a decision later on.

"Next, I need to figure out how to handle… other issues," you tell your daughter.

And she answers you with a short, cute, nod of her little filly head.

Focus, Velvet. Focus! You can squee at your daughter later.

Because right now, you need to decide what to do about…

Spoiler: Jade Whistle's rolls

[The Reflection of the Tapestry]

[Secret Histories, CD 60]

[Roll: 11 + 14 (Magic) + 30 (Artifact, level 3) = 55]

[Ritual failed]



[A Memory of Light – Research, Progress 0/100]

[Roll: 5 47 + 14 (Learning) + 40 (Lantern, Level 4) = 101]

[Jade Whistle invoked her re-roll]

[Success]

Jade Whistle has brought you a… bundle of notes. Almost too many for a single pony to read.

The more confusing part of it was an attempt at drawing a map. Half-remembered dreams about wrong paths and false doors, poorly drawn over a map of Equestria. The Lore of Secret Histories has never been her forte, and you conclude that nothing useful could be gleaned from those.

But the other part of her notes, the better-organized description of her memories, tells you a different story.

Jade Whistle has successfully researched "A Memory of Light". She has discovered a fragment of something. Something big, and important, and that part of you believes is a ritual. That same part of you also thinks this fragment is one of three.

You may now research "A memory of the Path", which uses LEARNING and KNOCK, and has its progress set to 0/200.

Additional information has been added to your Ritual tab.



"That is… interesting," Selene says, as she goes over the notes with you.

You have to walk her through most of the Lantern-heavy sections, but part of you thinks that… that Selene actually gets it. That for all that she doesn't know much about Lantern itself, there is a deeper part of her that noticed, or perhaps recognized, something that you haven't realized at all. Even if she can't put it into words.

"Speaking of… well, speaking of strange things, there is something I want your opinion on, mom," Selene says, after a few moments of silence.

And then she asks you for your advice.



Selene has spent a good deal of her time, and her nights, going around the dreams of Ponykind. She is not entirely sure how to describe it to you, or even if she should. She believes she has done, and is doing, something good. But still, she is more concerned about other things.

"My sister… Celestia, that is. I visited her dreams the most, and I saw…"

Selene has been keeping an eye on Princess Celestia. She has correctly informed you that Princess Celestia will have reached Lantern 2 by the beginning of Turn 22.

Selene has also asked you to give her more time to continue using the "Soothe the Night" action (although you are not forced to give her that order).



With that… well, it is now time for you to decide what to do next.





30 bits have been taken from your treasury, for Jade's failed ritual.

Your Name-given Influences, "An Incarnadescence" and "I Have Been Here Before", have expired.

Your Attention of the Laws for the Lore of Lantern has faded away, unused.

Your contract with Biedde, the Name of Edge, is about to expire. He will come to you to address that shortly.

Your options on how to prepare for Turn 22 will be available imminently.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

The following notes relate to the coming Turn 22 voting period, and are relevant for you to make an educated decision on this current vote:

Spoiler: Notes

-You can assume you will have 623 bits at the beginning of Turn 22. (Your current 421, plus 160 from your salary, plus 42 from Rarity's dividends).
-You will be offered a Fleeting Opportunity to fulfill "Soft Sweep's Request".
-You will be offered a Fleeting Opportunity to "Make more time for Uncle Steppes". This will allow you to have more say on the "gift" he wants to give you, but not picking this option will still result in receiving something from him.
-Jade Whistle will, exceptionally, have NO ACTION POINTS AVAILABLE, since she borrowed her actions from Turn 22 to attempt a ritual on Turn 21.
-The report of your minions, and the additional actions that have been unlocked by their efforts, can be read on the threadmark immediately before this one.

You have decided to...


[] (ALL IN) You WILL attempt the "All In" expedition immediately. (No other options may be picked)

-[] (ALL IN) You will NOT attempt the "All In" expedition.


When it comes to old Biedde, you will...


-[] (BIEDDE) End your contract.
-Biedde will be unsummoned.

-[] (BIEDDE) Fund a short monster-hunting expedition (Costs 60 bits)
-Biedde will extend his stay for one turn.

-[] (BIEDDE) Fund a long monster-hunting expedition (Costs 100 bits)
-Biedde will extend his stay for three turns.
-During the FIRST turn of his extended stay, he will be "completely unavailable" as he pursues his expedition.
-Meaning he will be GONE for the first turn, and present as normal for the following TWO turns, for a total of three turns.

-[] (BIEDDE) Pursue religious goals.
-Biedde will extend his stay for one turn.
-It is rude to ask what he would do with his free time.


Regarding your Honored guest, you think you should...


-[] (MAREINETTE) Mareinette is her own mare, and Cadance could use some company. Don't do anything, and see how things turn out.
-You will not take any particular action this turn.
-From what you hear, Mareinette will be more absent from your home than usual. Something about spending more time in Canterlot.
-This is a free action, and will not interfere in Mareinette's ability to serve you.

-[] (MAREINETTE) You introduced her to Cadance, yes, but you are still very interested in her endeavors.
-You will signal to Mareinette that you are still interested in your ongoing relationship. She will hold you for that.
-From what you hear, Mareinette will continue to mostly lounge in your estate and wander around Ponyville. To the delight of the farmhoofs that adore her.
-This is a free action, and will not interfere in Mareinette's ability to serve you.


And of course, your latest "project"...


-[] (FORGE NAME) You will attempt the "Rite of Joyous (Re)Forging" (WRITE IN what sacrifices will be used) (COSTS ONE VELVET COVERS ACTION FROM TURN 22)

-[] (FORGE NAME) You will NOT attempt to summon it, at this time.



Twelve hours moratorium. Vote in plans.

All plans MUST contain one of each option. Unless you vote to go for the "All In" expedition, in which case you should only vote for that.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Spoiler: Vote announcement

Vote tally

[X] (BIEDDE) Fund a short monster-hunting expedition (Costs 60 bits)
[X] (FORGE NAME) You will attempt the "Rite of Joyous (Re)Forging"
[X] (SACRIFICES) 438 bits, Wrong Key, Forge 2

Please note, the "Moods for Mareinette" vote is STILL OPEN, and it has been RESET so it can become a standalone vote.

Only votes cast AFTER this post will be counted.

You have come to an agreement with old Biedde. 60 bits have been taken from your coffers, and his bindings will be extended until the END of turn 22.

On a rare surge of Noble-like behavior, you have contacted the merchants with a list of excentric demands, with the requisite bits to fund them, much to their delight. Screws, metal plates, and intricate pieces of bespoke clockwork have been delivered to your house, with not a single comment on how strange this was being whispered anywhere. 438 bits have been taken from your coffers.

20 bits have been taken from your coffers, and you have used your free-per-turn Reagent crafting action, to produce a Forge 2 reagent.

A Forge 2 Reagent, recently crafted, has been consumed to aid a ritual.

A Wrong Key has been consumed to aid a ritual.



- - -



You will not say you were obsessed.

But you will not say you were uninterested either.

Your hoofs just moved, as they always did.

Your hoofs moved, and the hammers clanged, and the flames roared into life when change created heat and heat demanded change.

And inevitably, the small pieces came together to form the bigger pieces, until finally everything was fit into its proper place.

And you stared down at your creation.

It was… beautiful. But only in the most clinical and intellectual of senses. It did not evoke the breathlessness of a sunset, or the joy of sunrise. But it was beauty nonetheless.

It was… a clock. A timer, counting down the endless days, tuned precisely to ring at the end of an Era. The ticking of its internal clock acting like a heartbeat of sorts. And for all that it did not resent you or its purpose, it also understood it would stop with the Glorious thrum of its trumpets.

It was… a companion. One that would keep your company, and learn from you what needed to be learned, and teach you the skills you would eventually need, and obediently pass you the tools you asked for as you labored over your next creation.

It was everything you wanted…

But it would never be what you needed.

Still, even in that, it was perfect.

Because as you looked down at your latest creation, that masterfully-crafted web of cogs, and metal, and delicately-wrought pieces of clockwork in the shape of a foal, you saw…

…

One day. One day. When the ticking of its heart stops, and all nights finally come to an end.

That is its purpose. That is exactly why it was created. To keep you company, to count the time, and to be a constant reminder of what is to come.

You are not... frustrated.



You just aren't happy.



…

This is the dream that She gave you, and the only thing in your mind as your hoofs moved and put all of this together.

You are Velvet Covers. And like Her before you, you are now looking down at the foal you made, but not at the foal you wish to give your husband.

It is… intriguing. Like a statue, made out of clockwork and metal. An eccentric piece of art, perhaps, from a pony with a cutie mark related to art and inventions. An inspirational piece of what the future, and future technology, might look like, if the right pony with the right cutie mark comes along.

It is, well, foal-sized. And even as it stands, unmoving, on your workshop desk, it still isn't much taller than your horn. You made it an earth pony, both because you wouldn't know how to integrate a horn into its design, and also because…

Well, this is not the foal you want to give to Stormchaser.

But of course, for now, it is still just a statue. Just an impossibly complex statue, of exposed cogs and metal, with a frozen clock on the center of its chest.

It still needs… life.

So, you do the only thing that is left.

You pick up the delicate key, that you prepared just for this occasion.

You insert its tip at the center of its heart, right between the most important cogs of its internal clock.



And then you twist it.



…..,,,,,;;;;;;!!!!!!IIIII



There are no loud noises. There are no glorious sounds of machinery coming to mind. And there are no plumes of smoke escaping from its joints.

All that happens is that the clock, like a tiny heartbeat of a metronome, begins to tick.

And the cogs around the clock begin to pull their neighbors, and the clockwork around its chest begins to tug at its limbs.

Light shines where there was once dull metal.

And its eyes slowly open.



"Hello, mother," it says, with a voice of metal and copper, but that also sounds innocent and jovial like the song of a bird.



Its movements are… perfect, and perfectly fluid. And once you dress it with a coat of fur, it looks… almost like a living foal. A quiet foal. An obedient and calm foal. A foal that you would never realize is sitting right next to you, unless you were really paying attention. But a living foal nonetheless.

And what is more, you can already tell it is… perfecting itself. Pulling matter from the small hole you punched inside its chest. Shifting and turning its gears under its fur coat, and creating an even better configuration than you could ever hope to assemble by yourself. You would even dare say it is growing up, if you didn't know any better.

Still, by the time you are done talking with it, after maybe one or two hours after it woke up, it was already a full hoof taller. Because at some point, the internal mechanisms of its legs unfolded themselves despite them having no such functionality before.

And by the time you left it to its own devises, even its coat of fur looked real. It did something to itself, working on its fur as if it was grooming itself with a comb, to the point that it is now indistinguishable from a real foal.

…

However, the only thing you could think of, during your entire conversation with it, was that…

It loves you, yes. But only because it was created to do so. The same way a lock is supposed to fasten itself and not yield, and a hammer is supposed to press whatever it strikes. It loves you, and it called you its mother.

But you… do not love it back.

It will never resent you for that, and it knows that perfectly well.

But still…

This is not the foal you wish to give your husband.



[Ritual completed successfully]

[Dice rolls have been omitted]



But of course, as it so often happens when you create a new life, you must now name it.

How shall you name the Name?


[] Ponyocchio
[] Clockwork Colt
[] No name (it will be referred to as "The Name of Forge" or some other derivative)
[] Something else? (WRITE IN)


(You may not name it "Velvet [Something]". Because you do not hate him, but this is not the foal you want to give to your husband.)





Twelve hours moratorium.

Please note, the vote for the Moods of Mareinette is STILL ONGOING. But vote by approval, and not in plans, for both the Moods and the name of the Name.

The Moods of Mareinette vote options have been placed below, for your convenience.

Spoiler: Moods of Mareinette

[] (MAREINETTE) Mareinette is her own mare, and Cadance could use some company. Don't do anything, and see how things turn out.
-You will not take any particular action this turn.
-From what you hear, Mareinette will be more absent from your home than usual. Something about spending more time in Canterlot.
-This is a free action, and will not interfere in Mareinette's ability to serve you.

[] (MAREINETTE) You introduced her to Cadance, yes, but you are still very interested in her endeavors.
-You will signal to Mareinette that you are still interested in your ongoing relationship. She will hold you for that.
-From what you hear, Mareinette will continue to mostly lounge in your estate and wander around Ponyville. To the delight of the farmhoofs that adore her.
-This is a free action, and will not interfere in Mareinette's ability to serve you.

You have succesfully summoned the Name of Forge. Its character sheet has been updated. As is proper, it's initial attribute has been set to that of its summoner's Brand.

 

[spiderhellian]

The Same Scene, Eras Prior

You create and you destroy. The lowliest spark is no less a creation than this great working.

Yet, it is true, some workings you attend to more than others.

Your hoofs just moved, as they always did. The Malleary moved with them, as it always does.

Your hoofs moved, and the hammers clanged, and the flames roared into life when change created heat and heat demanded change.

And inevitably, the small pieces came together to form the bigger pieces, until finally everything was fit into its proper place.

And you stared down at your creation.

It was… beautiful. But only in the most clinical and intellectual of senses. It did not evoke the breathlessness of a sunset, or the joy of sunrise. But it was beauty nonetheless.

It was… a clock. A timer, counting down the endless days, tuned precisely to ring at the end of an Era. The ticking of its internal clock acting like a heartbeat of sorts. And for all that it did not resent you or its purpose, it also understood it would stop with the Glorious thrum of its trumpets.

Click to shrink...

It was… a companion. You have servants, and tools, and Names, and perhaps even peers. But no real companions, as of late. This will indeed keep you company, and learn what it can, and pass the tools, for all the workings yet to come.

It was perhaps what you wanted…

But it would never be what you needed. What they all needed.

Still, you cannot regret its creation.

Because as you looked down at your latest creation, that masterfully-crafted web of cogs, and metal, and delicately-wrought pieces of clockwork in the shape of a foal, you saw…

…

One day. One day. When the ticking of its heart stops, and all nights finally come to an end.

That is its purpose. That is exactly why it was created. To keep you company, to count the time, and to be a constant reminder of what is to come.

Click to shrink...

You cannot be frustrated.

But you think you could be happy, one day. One era.

You look down at the foal you made, and it is not the foal you wish to give to The One You Love.

It is… intriguing. Like a mortal, made out of clockwork and metal. An eccentric piece of art for those who play with your principles in the Wake. To them, it might very well be so great as to be worshipped as a god. But to a god, it is not.

It is, well, foal-sized. And even as it stands, unmoving, amidst the fires of your home, it is dwarfed by anvil and furnace and flame. You made it a pony, because that is what you wished to make, and also because…

Well, this is not the creation you want to give to The One You Love.

With a gesture, the fires flare. The steel glows. A single spark seeds into its chest, and it is alive.

In the Wake, this would be an act of creation unlike any that came before. Here, it may not be commonplace, but it is nothing all that special.

Because this creation is not special enough.

Scarce-heard amid the hammer-falls and bellow-blows, the clock, like a tiny heartbeat of a metronome, begins to tick.

And the cogs around the clock begin to pull their neighbors, and the clockwork around its chest begins to tug at its limbs.

Light shines where there was once dull metal.

And its eyes slowly open.



"Hello, mother," it says, with a voice of metal and copper, but that also sounds innocent and jovial like the song of a bird.

Click to shrink...

Of course, it is perfect. It looks like a foal, more than any of your other creations. Even the ones that were once foals themselves.

And what is more, you can already tell it is… perfecting itself. Like anything alive, it creates itself, and destroys itself, moment to moment and era to era. It cannot do a better job than you could, but it can do its own. And you certainly have better things to do.

In the moments before your attention moves on, it is already larger, and smarter, and stronger, and more. All that has happened is the slightest turning of a hundred-hundred gears, but each portends an evolution, and you can see all those changes as clearly as you can see that slightest shift.

It is real. It is yours. It is a child that you made.

…

However, you only thought of one thing, during that last moment you attended to it. It is the only thing you will think of, when your attention rarely returns to it, in the massive volume of moments this era has left to offer you.

It loves you, yes. But only because it was created to do so. The same way a lock is supposed to fasten itself and not yield, and a hammer is supposed to press whatever it strikes. It loves you, and it called you its mother.

But you… do not love it back.

It will never resent you for that, and it knows that perfectly well.

But still…

Click to shrink...

This is not the child you wish to give The One You Love.

You will have to make a better one, one of these days.

Spoiler: AN

I read the scene creating the Forge Name, and I thought -- "Cool!"

Then I read it again, and I thought -- "Wow, this exact scene has happened before, hasn't it. Every piece of it."

It was stated, to some extent, but also fun to write out. The Forge really is the character at the center of this quest's deep mysteries, and I love every bit we learn of her.

I'm glad she did better, later on. And I'm curious to learn more about that, too, one of these days soon.

 

[Flaregamer82253]

Rarity's Big Surprise

Rarity hummed a little tune as she began to skip her way back from the bank, saddlebags full of bits jingling to the beat.

She found it hard to believe that not even two years ago she really was the small-town mare with a passion and the dream to make it big, but every time she cashes her cheques in for her contract and commissions, it felt like she was still having the same out-of-body experience that she first had when Velvet told her she believed in her.

She was in loved it. Yes.

Dressmaking as an art was all about understanding what ponies wanted, and that required listening to what they don't say as much if not more than what they say to her. More important than that, it's about crossing the gap from there to what they need so much that it becomes a roaring flame that shapes their world. There was a time when Rarity wouldn't have been able to see that special light that sent all of the colors in the world into a whirlpool until only what was important remained. These days it was a fact of life more unfailing than the way the sun and moon rise and fall.

Velvet Covers gave her the chance to be that mare, and her blood screamed at her to be even more than that. Every little step will get her closer to that. Patience is an old friend of hers that will guide her to the next diamond as long as she keeps trotting towards it.

Coming upon her home, Rarity stopped for a moment to take it in. Ponyville has been growing lately with more ponies moving here in the aftermath of the catastrophe. This also meant that she's had a new influx of customers coming to the Carousel Boutique. Moreover, there has been a heavy surge in business for carpenters and builders in recent months as Ponyville needed to build new homes and infrastructure to accommodate its growing population. It's been years since she moved out of her parents' home and had the place renovated for herself, but she has the funds, opportunity, and reason to expand the building. With a small nod, she moved towards her front door and decided that she ought to start drafting blueprints and strike while the iron is hot.

Walking inside, she was met with her favorite surprise.

"Oh! There you are Rarity," Velvet Covers smiled at Rarity, one in which she matched in perfect sync.

"Velvet, darling! How wonderful to see you!" Not even putting her bags down, Rarity made her way over to give a short hug. It wasn't unusual or unexpected for Rarity to come home to Velvet already inside the Carousel Boutique. She had a spare key made for her a while ago in case Velvet came by while she wasn't around. What was unexpected was the foal-sized earth pony with a white coat, mane, and tail standing to the side looking at Velvet's spare horseshoes in the shoe rack.

"Hello dear, what is your name?" Rarity asked with a friendly smile to the foal, who upon turning to look at her with a quiet tick, she was able to see that it was a colt with bright blue eyes and a happy smile.

"Hello," he spoke with a quiet ring, walking up to you and Velvet like water whistling down a river, "I am Rare Item."

"I'm sorry that I have to make this quick, Rarity, but I needed someone to look after Rare for the week while I'm in Canterlot, and you're the only pony I can ask that may be available." Upon a closer look at Velvet's face, Rarity realized that she looked a little stressed, as though even being here right now was a time crunch that she could barely afford. "I know this is a last-minute request, but I know you have a guest room that Sweetie Belle often uses, and it's better that I not leave him in my house without my supervision after last time. If it isn't too much, could you take him in until I get back?" she asked with a hopeful smile on her face.

Rarity didn't even have to think about it. It was a request from Velvet Covers and any pony that was vetted by her was someone she would be willing to take in indefinitely. "Of course, darling! It would be an honor to take him in- as long as he would have me of course?"

"It would make me happy to stay here for the week," Rare Item replied in perfect sync to your question. He even gave a little bow with a slight whir while doing so. Internally, Rarity squealed at how adorable he was.

"Well then, I ought to be off then," Velvet interrupted with a grateful look in her eyes. "Rare isn't very fussy, and he's quiet too. He doesn't need too much, and he enjoys being helpful to others, so don't be afraid to give him a few chores or ask for his help around the place."

Rarity pondered that for a moment. While the boutique itself was always kept in perfect condition, her living space has become messier over the past few months since the royal wedding. Having to travel so often for commissions hasn't left her much time to keep her living space in good condition, and she distinctly remembered Sweetie Belle grumbling two weeks ago as she helped Rarity dust the guest room off. Idly, she wondered if she could make a small butler outfit for Rare Item since he seemed to have the personality for it, and she's been meaning to experiment with suit tailoring anyways.

"Just leave it to me, Velvet. There won't be any problems throughout the week. Goodness, I think I might enjoy it!"

"I'll be going then. Thank you so much, Rarity!" Velvet walked through the door at a quick pace. "And make sure to be good for Rarity, Rare Item!"

"Yes, Mother," Rare Item replied as the door closed with a smile lifting further on his face-

-as Rarity's composure dropped faster than her bags fell on the floor.

"M-M-MOTHER!?" Rarity blurted out without a thought, turning to look at him so fast that she heard her neck crack. In response, he turned to look at her with an inquisitive look on his face. She started thinking furiously.

Velvet hadn't said anything about adopting another child when she visited over a week ago for their monthly tea time, but why else would Rare Item call Velvet mother if she wasn't his mother. This means that Velvet just asked her to watch over her son for the week. This was much more important than she thought it was two minutes ago. Rarity knew very well how much Velvet's family meant to her. Never before has Velvet asked her or any of her friends to look after her children for a time. In layman's terms, Rarity had been given the highest trust she could imagine. The fact that she was requested this meant that for one reason or another Velvet believed that Rare Item was utterly safe and cared for here in a Way that he needed that her own home couldn't provide for him in her absence.

Taking a deep breath in to calm herself, she gave a weak smile to Rare Item, who blinked with his blue eyes…

…blue eyes…

…blue eyes kind of like her own…

…and a white coat like her own…

…and Velvet Cover's white mane and tail…

…

…his name is Rare Item-

-and Rarity's thoughts exploded.

"I-WH-BUT-I-YOU-VELVET-HOW-I-" Gibberish started falling out of Rarity's mouth as she wrestled with the possibility that her thoughts could be real, but her mind was connecting dots faster than her mouth could keep up with.

Of course Velvet would bring Rare Item here, because Rarity should care and nurture him in her absence.

Of course he looks like the both of them, BECAUSE HE'S THEIR SO-

Waitwaitwait! That can't be true! Velvet and I have never even… done that, so to speak! Rarity thought… And then she thought some more. But there was that one time-

NO! How would that even work?! We're both mares! I know neither of us have the… equipment for that!? Rarity bargained for an answer. An answer her mind was all too ready to give her.

He's not a newborn! And the timing doesn't match! I did NOT miss Velvet Covers being pregnant, right?

Rarity stared Rare Item in the eyes. He was still patiently waiting for her to say something.

RIGHT?!

Rarity gulped. The same answer applied here too.

"And make sure to be good for Rarity, Rare Item!" SHE NAMED HIM AFTER ME!

"Is everything alright?" Rare Item finally spoke up after an appropriate number of ticks had passed.

Rarity immediately regathered her composure. "I-WELL, never let it be said that your FATHER-" her voice cracked, "-can't step up to the plate! Now! Let's go get you settled in Sweetie Belle's room until we can prepare something better!" Rarity mentally moved her home expansion plans to her top priorities. If this was going to be more common after this week, she needed to expedite a bigger house to better care for him.

Rare Item blinked after her statement, but he gave a happy smile. "Yes, father."

Rarity's heart soared. That feeling she was having earlier was back and stronger than it had ever been.

But in the back of her mind, she couldn't help herself from whining:

I was going to name my firstborn after you, not me!

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Much like Rarity, I feel I must strike while the iron is hot. I did not expect to be writing today, but inspiration really does come when you least expect it. To that end, thank you @DelightedOne for giving me the idea for the name and @ses for giving me a prompt for this.

I took a couple liberties with his appearance given that we weren't told anything definitive about it, but I couldn't help my impression that much like his lesser lore, his appearance was is very modular and adaptive, so I think it still fits regardless.

Rarity has always been one of my favorites in and out of the quest, so I'm always happy to give her a little more love and attention.

That said, please support the name of Rare Item! A vote for this is the greatest respect we can give our only favorite money making pony!

 

[Sveta08]

The Sweetest Lie

---

It shouldn't be this bright.

The world shouldn't be this bright. This happy. This easy going and casual, as though nothing had changed. As though nothing had happened! There should be shouting in the streets, clouds in the sky, darkness on every house! The paper should be late, the toast should be burnt, the world should be-!
Hurting.

It shouldn't feel like every other day in every other home.

It isn't the same.

Even pretending it is is wrong. You could feel it in the tension in your shoulders. The near imperceptible hesitation in your butlers words. In the worry that draped sweet Diamond when you sent her to school. The world, your world, is changed. But there, just outside your front door? In the papers, in the news, on the faces of strangers it... It's the same.

The world didn't change. But yours did.



You are Filthy Rich and it's been three days since your wife disappeared.



The thought alone makes you nauseous. It was supposed to be perfectly normal, supposed to be just a meal with a friend. You can almost pretend you hear the harsh sound of her hooves walking down the halls. You can still smell that bright citrus perfume she wore when she left! The sharp words, how it was only she who had been invited, so you should just "stay where you are useful."
Out of her way.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtain, the soft carpet of your office illuminated by the light of the morning sun. It wasn't worth shuttering it. It would just drift open again.

it shouldn't be this bright.
You should be mourning. You should be angry. You should have thrown something, yelled something, screamed at her.
You did. You should have done something that mattered.

But here, in this little office, light bled in. A gloomy refused to settle over anything but your mind.



When Spoiled hadn't come home, it was easy to dismiss. It would be a quiet night, most likely she and the Lady had simply eaten or drunk too much. An offer was made to stay the night, and why would Spoiled refuse? The host puts up the guest if they can't safely make it across town, and Spoiled was always one to invite herself in, if she could. It was easy to rationalize.

In the morning, it must have been a hangover. In the afternoon, she was out shopping. But when the sun set... something had to be wrong. It was supposed to be a meal, not a whole day affair. It might have grown into something more, Spoiled always tried to push for that, but...

But.

You didn't push. You didn't look. Didn't ask to speak with the guards to find her.
It would be another quiet night.



Diamond, bless her, could tell though. Should have schooled yourself into a more calm smile, been cleaner and more inquisitive over dinner. Shouldn't have let her know you were so distracted. Put on a business face and let her carry your worries away as only your daughter could. But... you were distracted. You were anxious.

Clever little girl she is, she put two and two together and found out how to make interest. Even though it hurts, you can't help but smile remembering how she looked at you. Confused. Worried. And just a moment later, with understanding.

Celestia must have blessed you with her, because she just tried to smile back.
Neither of you talked about the missing chair in the dining room.



Your eyes drift to the other chair in the room. If you pretend, you can almost see the tea cup and saucer on the side table. The one she could hardly touch. Could still hear her words ringing in your ears, didn't need to pretend to hear that. They hadn't left you. Couldn't. You wouldn't... You shouldn't...

---

It was the second morning, after you gave Diamond Tiara a firm hug. After you told her you were going to figure this out. That she shouldn't worry and to go to school. It was after Diamond left that She came.
She didn't want to see Diamond as usual, nor did she come to talk with Spoiled. There was not the gleam of business in her eyes, nor the comfort of a social call.

Your Wife disappeared two days ago after going to meet with Velvet Covers for a meal.
And Velvet Covers came to your door, shoulders heavy with responsibility. Before you could speak, she asked you a question.
"Can we speak in private, Filthy?"
Maybe it was a worry. Or maybe it was the way the words seemed to burden her. Or was it her eyes, so full of a emotion without a name, that you couldn't help but nod and lead her away to your study.



You asked. The only question you could.
"Where is Spoiled? What happened?"
Even then, you couldn't bring yourself to yell. Not yet at least.

She... she just looked at the tea. Weighing it in the grasp of her magic. Looking for... you only wish you knew then. You only wish she hadn't found it now. But the tea was set aside, her reservation along with it.
She only looked to you. And answered.
"Do you know what the Lunar Bureau is, Filthy? Not- Not that it is my responsibility. Not that it is where I work. But what it is. What it's purpose is, Filthy."

The furrow on your brow was the only answer she needed.
"The Lunar Bureau is an institution to safeguard Equestria, now and into the future. From threat of monsters and beasts and unknowns that the rest of Equestria isn't built to handle. It is an institution built upon The Calamity, and how unprepared we were. It is meant to hunt down the last of those who escaped. It is meant to prevent another disaster like that, ever again. It is my burden. My responsibility."



She looks... pained.
Velvet Covers, who entreats with royalty, who caught the ear of Celestia when her patience was gone. Bridesmaid of Princess Cadence, Alicorn of Love. Head of the Lunar Bureau, a group of investiagators and... and monster hunters by the sounds of it. And she looks like it hurts when she looks to you.
... no. Not when she looks to you.

For what she has to tell you.



"Filthy... you're my friend. And because of that, I feel you are owed more than... more than what I need to say. More than the clinical, harsh, nothing answers I am supposed to say. You deserve... more than that."

"Do you know what a Changeling is?" A rhetorical question, as she explained. "It is... a monster. Not the kind you see out in the Everfree with claws and fangs and wings and tail. But it is a monster all the same for what it does. It... it is a Monster of chitin and wing that steals ponies away in the night, only to wear their face, live their life, and take their place. It laughs because we laugh. It drinks because we drink. It eats because we eat. And it looks just like the pony who's life it has stolen. Invisible."
"A Changeling, is a lie in the shape of a pony."

Her eyes.... Gods above she looked so-
"I... As the Bureau has learned more about these... creatures, responsible for The Calamity, we learned there were signs. Small signs. Little movements. Ticks you might call them. Not perfect, but a way to begin to suspect somepony who... isn't. Something who replaced a pony. Something just acting through their mask of skin and lies. Signs I... saw. More than once. More than just a few times Filthy."

"I invited... her... because I had to make sure. I had to know that it wasn't like that. That she wasn't one of them. That you didn't have..."



"Spoiled was a Changeling, Filthy. And she had been for a long time."

---

You don't want to remember those words. What you yelled at her there. How after she spoke, the spell of normality broke and you screamed. Demanded, shouted, threw things in the room just looking to... say it wasn't true. That Velvet was lying. That it couldn't be. It Couldn't. It had to be wrong. Had to...

You don't want to remember how you broke down and sobbed. How you called her a liar and a fraud. How... understanding she looked there.
How she waited outside the room. After you had torn half the books from the shelves, tearing through them to find something. Something, clear, direct, obvious, proving! Proving it was wrong. Proving it wasn't true! Proving that-

Your wife hadn't been gone for much much longer than two days.



She bandaged your hoof when you finally left. Ignoring your glare. Ignoring your sobbing. Moving past that emotional turmoil of despair and anger that threatened to swallow you. She didn't stay long after that, but you...
You...



You couldn't tell Diamond.

The night was quiet, but it was the wrong kind of quiet now. Too tense, too sharp, too brittle. Diamond could tell, bless her, but she didn't press. Didn't ask. She knew, you knew but couldn't. How... How could you?

How could you tell her that her Mother was gone? That she had been for a while?



Now.
As the world kept moving.
As your study lay in ruins. As the light threatened to creep in on that devistation. Threatened to illuminate it...

You feel something else.
Guilt.

Hatred that she was taken. Wronged that you hadn't been told. Disgusted that you hadn't noticed. And Guilt... whenever you opened your eyes.
The light nearly blinded you when you did, and it hurt to even pretend to think about moving on without her, but what if



What if
Your heart ached to simply think of it. Shaking your head didn't get rid of it, and closing your eyes didn't make the question go away. It only made it burn in deeper. Quieter. Sharper.

What if
What if... it wasn't your wife that made you two drift apart?

What if it wasn't your wife that near sneered as you passed?
What if it wasn't your wife that filled the house with this useless crap? That demanded only the finest and most expensive simply because it was expensive? That all but threatened your daughter with every demand that was made? That turned a home into a house into a prison? That made the world about placating her rather than living?



What if it wasn't your wife, that caused these problems?
What if it wasn't your wife at all??



Light drifted in through the crack in the curtains. Almost having to bend around the fabris as it showed what lay in that little study.
Offering but the slightest, tainted thing. Reflecting in the world, the same thing you felt.
The same thing you hated, but couldn't drive from your mind. That circled, and spiraled, and hurt.

The world isn't supposed to be bright. You're not supposed to... to have this... this...
This ugly hope.

 

[Greymere]

In Which There Was a Different Beginning


Hello there, Velvet, I see you've brought home a new guest.

…

Have you ever wondered how this History began? Well, I won't tell you. But I'll give you something else instead. Something which didn't happen.

...

Let me tell you a story. Like all stories, it starts like this…

...

Once upon a time, in this History that never was, there was an old stallion. He lived alone, in a tiny corner of the big city above his lonely store, where he built clocks and watches and curious toys. It was his talent you see, that delicate dance of metal and crystal.

He was not an unsuccessful clockmaker, this stallion. But he wasn't happy, either. His mark was that of clockwork, and yet it wasn't enough. No matter how many timepieces he built, there was always that lingering feeling of purpose unfulfilled. Like looking up at a mountain's peak, knowing you could reach it if only given an opportunity that would never come. Like a heavy weight locked to his heart.

Sometimes, in the deep of night, when that heaviness grew unbearable, the stallion would descend into his workshop and simply… build. No mere machines built for crude purpose, but pieces of art that danced to the turning of gears and springs, and it would be enough, for a time. But to the rest of the world they were only curiosities; something that a noble or wealthy merchant would occasionally catch a glimpse of and purchase on a whim to parade in front of their family for a week or a month, before being forgotten in some dusty storage room. And that old stallion wished dearly that he had someone, anyone who he could share his love of these works with, who would see them for what they truly were.

So one day, he decided to make one.

An act of rare whimsy, perhaps. After all, the stallion knew that no matter how lifelike, a clockwork automaton would never truly be something alive. But like any idea, once it had taken root in his mind, it only grew deeper and more entrenched. Almost an obsession, working deep into the night, painstakingly linking together bronze and steel and silver until fatigue grew too great and he fell into slumber upon his workbench, his dreams tinted in blue.

No great work was ever completed in a single night, of course. There would be some times where the old stallion would go months without ever touching his masterwork, even. But, slowly, slowly, it came into shape: from brass bone to steel tendons to clockwork heart, in the shape of a foal. A colt. And with every step, that blue light in his dreams grew brighter, until his masterwork lay finished on his bench.

Though... even complete, it was only a machine. A beautiful one, perhaps, in perfect mimicry of a foal. But there was no spark of life to animate its limbs, only the pre-designed winding of springs and turning of cogs. And in another History, perhaps even in your History, that's all it would have remained as.

But not in this one, of course. It wouldn't be much of a story otherwise, would it?

No, here, in this History-that-wasn't, the old clockmaker once again fell into slumber within his workshop, as had become common. And he awoke on a crossroad, paved in azure and bathed in the cobalt light of Glory.

Before him, stood his creation. The clockwork foal. But not as a mindless automaton, oh no. As a living thing, which moved and marched to its own will, carrying an ancient knowledge which no mortal creation could bear.

I will give you a gift, it said to the clockmaker, and split its false skin from which blood, white and burning, spilled into the stallion's veins so that he may carry its fire into the Wake.

I will give you a secret, it said to the clockmaker, and whispered words which seared themselves into his mind like a brand, of the operations of She Who Ended All Nights.

I will give you a purpose, it said to the clockmaker, who awoke with fire in his veins and his mind, a certainty of what must be done.

It would hurt, of course. In the division of flesh from which the Sun's Blood may enter the Wake, in the fires of knowledge that must draw fuel from memory to allow a humble clockmaker to do what must be done, in that deadly blue which poisons the blood and consumes the marrow. But it would all be worth it, in the end, thought the clockmaker. To receive that purity of purpose, a fulfillment that he could never reach here, in this waking world.

The blue fire is placed into the clockwork's heart. The gears turn, its heart ticks, and the colt opens its eyes.

The world is crooked, says the Name to the clockmaker.

To create is to destroy. To transform is to unmake what is.

You will find others like you, the pieces which do not fit into this new machine.

I will give you purpose, in our Great Work. And together we will fix what has been broken.

 

[Maer]

To Comfort in Spite

You are Ashen Weaver.

Today, you were… not dreaming. The ache in your hind leg was lingering- which you'd spoken to a doctor about, and gotten the right medicines and bandaging to mostly help it recover- which left you unable to properly work. You'd been handling a more administrative side of things, and found your mind… dipping. Occasionally you'd get little.. Flashes. Brief sparks of insight as the world warped and a tiny fraction of that THING'S words would make more sense… slip into place in a way that felt less like revelation, and more like… a splinter being plucked from a wound. A lessening of the foreign presence that made everything so off-kilter and wrong…

It was slow-going, more than a month of effort by now, but better than other choices. Every night was intentionally slept through, and intentionally visited, the Wolvish Nightmares avoided by merely wandering the Crossroads and seeing where they led. The urge to climb, to explore, to advance was… there. Like a seed that needed nurturing, it was within his breast always, but it burned to walk the sands, and that helped limit the growth of that seed. Which was appreciated, as he sighed and looked through his current pieces of paperwork.

Taking a moment to center himself and force in a calming breath, he exhaled slowly, the silence building around him until… something snapped into focus. He twitched, feeling… cold. Like a chilled breeze on a hot day, the still-bleeding wounds in his mind and soul were soothed subtly by this settling knowledge. That Silence and calm were unified, and that peace was beautiful. It left him more easily able to focus on the paperwork in front of him, and he managed to help spread the work so fewer ponies felt exhausted.

It wasn't much, but giving them more time around the water-stations to chat and commiserate left him feeling warm, the sight of their small relaxing postures, and occasional little grins at a bad joke, left him feeling like all was well in the world. And as he started to leave for the day, he stopped by his bosses office and gave him a small Talk to help him calm down, relax, and breathe.

Taking him to a bar and helping him Reminisce about the past and how things used to be, you casually suggested a party. Something to help the workers bond, connect, and comfort each other. He seemed to perk up, claiming to know exactly the Pony they'd need. Content with that, you sighed, feeling relaxed by the confident use of the knowledge in your mind.

The walk home was… something else. You could Feel the beat of your soul against the wound, how the very knowledge itself seemed to reject its source, instead seeking to be made void. It was a pulse, a beat, a throbbing ache that tried to press on, but somehow felt broken. Until you passed by a club… and it felt right.

Throwing caution and good sense to the wind, you stepped inside- exhaustion could be ignored, but this persistent pain in your very soul… it was never going to leave unless you found a way to heal it. So you walked in. You tried singing, and it was correct, but not right.

You tried drinking, or playing games, or chatting with other Ponies, and those made your cutie mark tingle as you felt your soul lighten, a sense of rightness flooding you, but not healing. Not until you let a particularly bold and drunk Stallion drag you into a Dance. Suddenly, everything was clicking. As you Danced, you started to Sing, and eventually the club shifted subtly, and everyone started to join in.

The Web you had woven earlier pulsed within you, the weave of people you were connected to in this space sang and writhed. And through it, that Rightness and Wholeness grew, rippling out through yourself and into those around you in a cascade of Life that beat with a heavy thickness that felt so viscerally RIGHT that it left you forgetting everything else. The pain in your soul, the ache of your leg, the exhaustion of a long day… for a time, everything else was nothing but a vague notion that wasn't real. All that mattered was the here, the now, and that you were ALIVE.

People were Dancing and Drinking and Singing as the party lingered, the beautiful Heart-Songs being spread around and sung about were so sweet and perfect… until near the end, when someone broke down crying. The sweetness turning bitter as memories of lost loves and fallen friends began to spread… The somber mood was beginning to break the work you'd put into this, but that… that was okay. All Things Must End, after all, but… but that didn't mean it had to Hurt.

So you started one last Heart-Song and started Quieting the beat. The new song was one about remembering and honoring those that passed without giving in to the Agony of their passing. Recalling how they would have loved this Festival of joy and celebration, to see them all so happy and recovering. To be Pressing On even while still holding their Memory close.

And it was early morning by the time you managed to make your way home, promises and half-spoken agreements from a dozen dozen ponies you had befriended the night before already helping to set up the deals and seek out the permissions to celebrate, hold a festival and start up the remembrance of those lost.

To turn the tragedy into a memorial, and a celebration of having survived. Of having lived. Of having Continued so that those that fell would never be forgotten. And collapsing into your bed, you fell asleep quickly, exhaustion light on your weary soul as the Dreams came… as they always did.

Tonight though, your Dreams ached less, the stabbing pain of your soul less harsh than it had been. The work of months of brooding and thinking and suffering… all fixed by chance… no… not by chance. This was always something that could have happened, and tonight it just… Did. That... it was a lot like that other niggling sense of... of somethig being right there, just out of reach, that you'd gotten with that one Thought of yours.

After all the drink at the bar, the singing was… disjointed, and… how had you spoken to that many people? Your throat didn't feel sore… was that just you? Some trick of the Beat? Or something more? You didn't know, but as you gazed at the Light… you felt ready. Or… more than you had been before tonight. Ready enough to face him again.

Your leg ached and burned at the thought, phantom suffering- or perhaps truly there?- that was but a memory of what had Hurt you before. And with that smile still on your face, you allowed that Seed in your chest to grow another root while you stepped out into the Ash, feeling those familiar eyes and shivering as you began to wander. He'd come for you… you knew he would. You weren't fast or strong enough, didn't know enough to make it to that Beacon before he caught you and tried to make you Regret visiting him. But… but that was fine.

You'd seen what could come of your own Agony. How it led to lessons that could be used to help others heal, and feel less Agony of their own. And if that meant weaving joy and happiness for others while you took their Sharp and Bleeding Suffering on your own Back… then so be it. After all, you had survived the Calamity. You would Endure. Until eventually the Agony Ended. After all, in his own words…

All things MUST End.

--------

... Not super thrilled by this, but it's been fighting me for a while now. Any ideas on how to improve it beyond the length would be appreciated. Mostly I'm trying to figure out why his perspective fought me so much while he was in the wake. The actions I wanted him to do came easily enough, but I wasn't able to really get in his headspace. I think I've been too distracted with a dozen other things. Also not thrilled with the level of Lore usage here, since it feels like it's more of a 3'rd or 4'th tier use, but... Still, here you go.

 

[Greymere]

Turns out procrastinating about starting on writing my thesis means I just start writing about the pastel pony horror quest instead, lol.


In Which the Child Will Devour the Sky

You are Velvet Covers. And right now… you are making a plan. An acquisition.

Because soon, when she comes to you this month, you will accept Lady Mareinette's invitation to dinner. And for all that you are accepting her invitation, you are still the host of this manor. So it is your duty to make sure the fare is acceptable for your guest.

No, not just acceptable. To serve only the bare minimum to a guest is an offense in and of itself, and Mareinette is no mere noblemare drunk on the pomp and wealth of her station. The main dish for this feast must be exceptional. Something worth notice, something handpicked, not a target of opportunity and circumstance.

And so you find yourself here, in your study, surrounded by maps and schedules. Ones that you have barely looked at because where you will acquire your ingredient… is a place you know very well.

It is the place you spent your childhood and young adult years.

It is where your father lives.

…

You can't fool yourself into thinking that this is "good". Regardless of your reasons, you are still plotting the capture and eventual death of a pony. And to some, that the one who you are planning to kill is your father and not a nameless stranger would only make such an act more monstrous.

Maybe they would be right. But here, in this room empty of any other eyes save your own…

You hate him.

You hate the stallion that dares call himself your father, as though he ever thought of you as his child and not just another piece on the board.

You hate how he made you think that he loved you, all the while he was only shaping you as clay.

You hate how he tossed you aside once you could no longer pretend at perfection, because a flawed tool was no better than a broken one, fit only to be melted down into scrap.

You hate how he treated you as something to be bartered and sold, something voiceless to be handed off like a pouch of bits for his own gain.

And… you hate that even now, after everything… nothing ever really happened. That after everything he did, the only time that he might have felt even a flicker of regret is when he realized that you had stepped beyond his shadow, and even then only at the loss of an opportunity. That no matter how much time passes, he will continue to live in comfort and power, moving bits and carving pieces into their 'correct' shapes, until he passes away at a ripe old age knowing that he achieved all that he ever wanted.

And you hate this ugly, festering wound on your heart, that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds no matter how many years pass, no matter how much you try to fill yourself with the love for your family and your friends, that tears itself open again every time you see the imprint of his hoofwork in your life.

You hate him.

YOU HATE HIM.

YOUHATEHIMYOUHATEHIMYOUHATEHIMYOUHATE-

…

…

…

You breathe in. You remove your hooves from where the wood of your desk has splintered. You breathe out, a plume of frost following its wake.

You will not let yourself indulge in your hatred. Not yet. There will be time for that later, when the proper spices and savours have been readied, and you see him face-to-face. Right now, you need to make a plan. You need to decide who you will send. And you need to decide if there are other things besides Velvet Hill that you'd want to take from his estate.

The prison is prepared. Your mind has been steeled.

All that's left is to act.


Expedition: Assaulting Velvet Hill
Duration: SHORT (costs one action from one follower, additional followers can go without spending action points)
Base cost: 5 bits/day (you must have 25 bits per follower sent)
-[n] Assault an opponent (Velvet Hill)
--[n] Who is going? (WRITE IN which followers will go)
--[n] What are they taking? (WRITE IN what artifacts, if any, to take)
--[n] What is their objective? (WRITE IN what your followers must do, in order of PRIORITY)
--[n] Anything else? (WRITE IN any other orders or specifications you have)

Spoiler

Just a little brainstorming on what kinds of thoughts might going through Velvet's head if she decides that yes, she will be kidnapping and eating her own father for eldritch power (you know, normal pony things).

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

You are Velv-...

You are...

...ady Velvet Covers and...



The way that the LIGHT refracts is just so… mesmerizing.



The stars are pinprick wounds, the moon is a mirror, but the sun is a hemorrhage of the light.

And the same way it shines down from the top and refracts in a thounsand-thousand directions through the Concursum, so too does its watered-down and filtered light eventually makes its way to the Wake.

And into your room.

And into your eyes.

Because even this tiny crystal, small as it may be, has a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of it. Even this miniature spectacle before your eyes is enough to remind you that… to remind you of the bedazzling symphony of colors that is-



"Ma'am? Ma'am?"



-Ponpon's voice, at first coming from a great distance, but eventually from right behind you, snaps you back to reality.

"Lady Velvet? Can you hear me? Is everything alright?" he voice comes again. Insistent. Concerned. Real. As real as the air inside your lungs, or the weight of your fur upon your coat.

And you… you look around and…

You are Velvet Covers.

And you are currently on the second floor of your mansions… of your home.

Ponpon is standing right next to you, concern written on her face. And right in front of you is…

A dress. A filly-sized dress, more practical than elegant, but still with a few gems to make it prettier. Perfect for a filly to play in, while still being the center of attention.

Perfect for a… for a cute-ceñeara. Your daughter's cute-ceñeara.

Yes, you and Ponpon were in the middle of planning that. And she just brought out the dress you had ordered for your daughter to wear. Until you looked at the way the light reflected on the little gemstones and…

"Ma'am… should I call your husband? Would you like to sit down or-"

"No, no, everything is alright Ponpon," you interrupt your trusted maid, your friend, as you resist the urge to shake your head. "I just have… a lot in my mind right now."

But deep down, you can't help but think that this is getting worse.

Is it getting worse? Could it be that you just started noticing this now, instead? How often do you just zone out like that? How often do you remember… remember the light of Glory?

You blink. Once, twice, ignoring how the world looks brighter through your closed eyelids.

"I can still bring you something to drink, if you like. Tea, or water, or maybe some tonic?" she asks, although you can tell she is narrowing her eyes even without looking at her.

"No, it's fine. It really is. I'll just…" you trail off, realizing that you are not being entirely truthful. "Why don't we continue this later? Most of the preparations are done, and we were just going over the details anyways," you say.

Although you start making your way out of that room, and back towards your bedroom, before she has a chance to respond.

And your mind is so filled with other thoughts, you don't even stop to appreciate how strange this must all look for Ponpon.

But still, you know you have enough excuses for this. You have all the excuses in the world, even. You are doing your best to be a mother, and keep in touch with your personal life, despite everything else that is being asked for you. So, you can afford these indulgences.

You can afford these slips.

As long as you don't slip too deep into the light.

…

You should figure out what to do about this.

All of this.



- - -

FOLLOWERS PHASE​

Velvet Covers currently has 3 personal actions to use on her own phase. (4 base, one used to summon Cherenkolt).

The following options must be included in your plan, and they are "preliminary" to this turn:

Would you like to Leash somepony? (This option will also be available on Velvet's Phase. Please count the additional Follower Action as available if you turn somepony into a confidante with a Leash)
-[] Yes (WRITE IN who)
-[] Do not leash anypony.


You currently have THIRTEEN Follower actions.

Spoiler: Follower breakdown

Torn Risen: 1
Rarity: 1
Jade Whistle: 1 0 (Borrowed on the previous turn)
Fluttershy: 1
Baldomare: 1
Mareinette: 1
Velvet Axe: 2
Biedde: 1
Cherenkolt: 1
Selene: 3
Household servants: 1

Spoiler: Things to keep in mind

Additional notes:
Tally
-Cherenkolt, your latest... creation, has accepted his name. Although you don't think he will ever deny anything that comes from you. Even... Well, he is currently in your workshop, disguised as an intricate and half-finished clock to conserve its energy. You will properly address him later. (Winning vote)
-You have decided to signal to Mareinette that you are still interested in hosting her. You can only wait and see how she will react in turn. (Winning vote)
-Jade Whistle said she wishes to do something, on her own, and will be unavailable this turn. But from next month onward, she believes she will be able to aid you with more types of research than just those of her dreams.
-Rarity has, with the most apologetic of tones, told you she feels she is falling behind with her contract with the Needles. She asked if you could (pretty please) not ask her to take any commissions this month. Or, ideally, let her focus fully on her career instead. (Note, Rarity is a Minion, you may order her to do whatever you want, and this is just her personal request).
-Selene, your beloved daughter, has asked to be ordered to "Soothe the Night" again this turn.
-The following Fleeting Opportunities will be available this turn:
--You promised Soft Sweeps to let her do something for you. (May be performed with your "free social action". You also may choose not to pick this, and hope things end up well on their own, although you have no idea how those chips might fall. Mareinette may NOT perform this action.)
--Uncle Steppes has asked for a little more of your time, to give you a "gift". (May be performed with your "free social action". You also may choose not to pick this, in which case you will still receive a "gift" but will have no say on its details. Mareinette MAY perform this action.)

Current bits: 105 (all changes for this turn were accounted for during Cherenkolt's summons)


The Lunar Bureau

Spoiler: Orders, Commissioner?

General notes:
-Velvet Covers may NOT "tamper with evidence" of anything the Lunar Bureau captures.
-The Lunar Bureau has a very small, but growing, understanding of the Lores. But very few ponies have been brought into the know so far. (This progress will be measure based on how many Lores have been introduced to the Lunar Bureau.)
-Velvet Covers MAY "plant evidence" in advance, in an already-explored expedition site or somewhere you direct the Bureau to go. Consult with QM for details, to write-in a Velvet action aimed at that.


Pick ONE of each.


You don't have many detectives, but the ones you do are the best of the best. What should they focus on this month?
-[] [DETECTIVES] Despite their friendly nature, ponies are capable of crimes just like any other intelligent creature. Have them investigate crimes at large, in the several cities of Equestria. (Less impactful in the grand scheme of things. But helps the Bureau keep a good image, and decreases the "tension" of the population at large, as the world becomes a worse place)
-[] [DETECTIVES] (FOLLOW UP) There are still changelings out there. Hunt them. Look for them, and for the ponies who colluded with them. (One of the chief expectations of the Bureau. Avert a future Catastrophe)
-[] [DETECTIVES] (FOLLOW UP) They have confirmed the presence of changelings in Dodge City. Have them take a closer look, and focus their efforts there. (May not be picked with "Siege Dodge City")
-[] [DETECTIVES] The dangers in the dark come from outside of Ponykind as well. Listen to the rumors. Study the myths. Look for the threats from without. (Search for Expedition Sites for your later consideration. Additionally, keep an ear on the ground for other "foreign" threats)
-[] [DETECTIVES] Nudge them in the… "correct" direction. Put them on the trail of one of your Opponents. (WRITE IN which Opponent. Sets the Bureau to investigate a pony you have a personal problem with)


Former constables, ex-Guards, defenders, one and all. They are not perfectly suited for investigations, but the Bureau needs muscles. And these ponies provide.
-[] [CONSTABLES] It is less paperwork for you if they just help with the investigations. (NO ACTION from the Constables. GAIN one VELVET action for the next phase)
-[] [CONSTABLES] (FOLLOW UP) Everypony heard what happened to your previous prisoner. Nopony wants to sit around and wait for what happens next. Time to raid the mountain of Tall Tale.
-[] [CONSTABLES] (FOLLOW UP) There are changelings in Dodge City. Surround it, siege it, and root them all out. Regardless of how little information we have, or the collateral damage involved. (May not be picked with "Investigate Dodge City")
-[] [CONSTABLES] Plan and execute a raid. Within Equestria, or anywhere else that is needed. (WRITE IN an Expedition, OR an Opponent the Bureau has investigated. The Bureau will attempt to perform the Expedition, or will assault an Opponent)
-[] [CONSTABLES] The Commissioner is just too important to leave unattended. Run security. (Adds four additional ponies as bodyguards to your retinue, for this turn only)


Of course, now that you have a better handle of this, you can find the time to pursue other endeavors while in Canterlot.
-[] [COMMISSIONER] Some of the ponies in the Bureau are more important than the others. Get to know them better.
--[] Shining Armor, your Deputy.
--[] Beyond Reproach and Iron Button, your finest detectives.
--[] Spend time with somepony else. (Discover, and talk to, another key figure)
-[] [COMMISSIONER] Dedicate more of your time to spreading the "necessary" knowledge within the Lunar Bureau, that they may learn how to better fight the darkness. (WRITE IN LORE, will create a level 1 "Institutional Knowledge" manifest)
-[] [COMMISSIONER] The Lunar Bureau is not the only recently-minted institution in Equestria. Try to contact the others.
--[] The Solar Court, and Fair Trial.
--[] Eclipse(?), and Midday Dew.
-[] [COMMISSIONER] Get your hoofs dirty. (Participate in the "Investigators" and "Constables" actions.)


"Princess Luna is the Director of the Lunar Bureau." Those in the know understand what that truly means. Time to bring more ponies into the know.
-[] [DIRECTOR] Introduce another Lore to the Lunar Bureau. (WRITE IN LORE, will create a level 1 "Institutional Knowledge" manifest)

Exclusive actions

Spoiler: You are the only one I can trust with this

Picking an action from any of these lists will "ensure/lock" that pony to that action, and that follower will not be available for the pool of "general actions".


Rarity (3 health, GRAIL 3, FORGE 1)
-[] [RARITY] Focus on her work. (Guarantees she will "succeed" on her career roll)
-[] [RARITY] Take a commission. (Gain at least 100 bits immediately, will "fail" her career roll)
-[] [RARITY] Focus on her studies, and learn more of the Lores. (SECRET LIBRARY INSUFFICIENTLY LEVELED)
-[] [RARITY] Something else? (WRITE IN)


Jade Whistle (3 health, LANTERN 4, HEART 2) [NO ACTION POINTS THIS TURN]
-[] [JADE] "You do you." (Let her do what she wants, and hopefully rest)
-[] [JADE] Research an artifact (WRITE IN which, will not award any Lore scraps for Velvet)
-[] [JADE] Research the Lores and try to come up with a new ritual (will offer you more options, later during the turn)
-[] [JADE] Research "A Memory of the Path" (Current progress 0/200, uses Learning and KNOCK)
-[] [JADE] Something else? (WRITE IN)


Fluttershy (3 health, WINTER 1, UNKNOWN nonexistent)
Comet Feet (4/4 health, EDGE 4)
-[] [FLUTTERSHY] Ask Comet to Guard your home.
-[] [FLUTTERSHY] Focus on her studies, and learn more of the Lores. (No longer allowed, as per your deal with Comet)
-[] [FLUTTERSHY] Something else? (WRITE IN)
-[] [FLUTTERSHY] Something else from your… mutual frient? (WRITE IN to ask Comet Feet for something)


Baldomare (2 health, LANTERN 6, SECRET HISTORIES 6)
(Baldomare will expire at the end of turn 23)
-[] [BALDOMARE] Ask for a lesson on the Lores. (WRITE IN Lore)
-[] [BALDOMARE] Channel an Influence. (WRITE IN Lore)
-[] [BALDOMARE] "Go have fun." (WRITE IN how many bits, at least 100, that she is allowed to spend to find something interesting)
-[] [BALDOMARE] Prolong her stay. (WRITE IN an unread book, of level 5 or higher, to gift her. This is a FREE ACTION and will "reset" her summoning period to the beginning of next turn.)
-[] [BALDOMARE] Something else? (WRITE IN)


Mareinette (??? Health, GRAIL 6, HEART 6)
(Mareinette's bindings will expire at the end of turn 22)
-[] [MAREINETTE] [FLEETING OPPORTUNITY] Have her meet your uncle, in your stead.
-[] [MAREINETTE] Ask for a lesson on the Lores. (WRITE IN Lores)
-[] [MAREINETTE] Channel an Influence. (WRITE IN Lore)
-[] [MAREINETTE] You need her to talk to… (WRITE IN a pony for her to speak with in, "stepping into" your horseshoes).
-[] [MAREINETTE] Something else? (WRITE IN)


The Daughter-of-Axes (5 health, KNOCK 6, EDGE 3)
(As a befriended Name, the Daughter-of-Axes has TWO actions)
-[] [AXE] Ask for a Knock lesson.
-[] [AXE] Ask for a Knock Influence.
-[] [AXE] Craft Wrong Keys. (She will give you three Wrong Keys, which will expire after five turns. Three full turns of cooldown, starting from the beginning of this turn.)
-[] [AXE] Something else? (WRITE IN)


Biedde (5 health, EDGE 6, MOTH 3)
(Biedde's bindings will expire at the end of turn 22)
(Biedde will automatically "Guard" you as a free action)
-[] [BIEDDE] Ask for an Edge lesson.
-[] [BIEDDE] Ask for an Edge Influence.
-[] [BIEDDE] Something else? (WRITE IN)


Cherenkolt (5 health, FORGE 6, SH 3)
(Cherenkolt will run out of fuel at the end of turn 24)
-[] [CHERENKOLT] "Thank you for the meal, mother!" (WRITE IN what artifacts to feed Cherenkolt. FREE ACTION)
-[] [CHERENKOLT] "Recalibrating." (WRITE IN what Lore to change his minor attribute to. FREE ACTION)
-[] [CHERENKOLT] "Powering down..." (Cherenkolt will be treated as an ARTIFACT for the entire turn. Extends his fuel reserves for one full turn.)
-[] [CHERENKOLT] Transmutate Blue Gold (Also costs one VELVET COVERS actions. Requires a Forge 6 reagent in your inventory)
-[] [CHERENKOLT] Ask for a Forge lesson.
-[] [CHERENKOLT] Ask for a Forge Influence.
-[] [CHERENKOLT] Someting else? (WRITE IN)


Selene (7 health, MOTH 4, EDGE 4, WINTER 4, KNOCK 4)
(As the self-elected best alicorn daughter, Selene has THREE actions per turn)
-[] [SELENE] You need her to talk to somepony about… (WRITE IN whose dreams she will enter)
-[] [SELENE] Soothe the night. (Her Winter realization. Unknown effects, if any.)
-[] [SELENE] Something else? (WRITE IN)

General actions

Spoiler: Could anypony please…?

Do NOT specify what follower will perform which actions. Followers who are not busy performing "exclusive actions" will perform whatever you choose here, based on who is best suited for it.
Any action may be picked several times. Write in a note specifying if you want that to happen.


-[] You would like for somepony to search for books…
--[] In Ponyville, and its… great assortments of libraries? (HEART, FORGE)
--[] In the great libraries of Canterlot… the ones that are open to public access, that is (LANTERN, GRAIL, SECRET HISTORIES)
--[] In the many small bookshops that dot the side streets of Manehattan (MOTH, EDGE, KNOCK)


-[] You need somepony to search for a more "peculiar" artifact. (Search for a random artifact to buy)


-[] You have contacts in Ponyville, that can find you exactly what you need. Reach out to them. (Write in LORE and LEVEL, up to Level 3. A suitable matching artifact will be available for purchase, but will be more expensive than normal)


-[] Actually, you would like to get rid of this. (FREE ACTION, WRITE IN studied artifacts to sell, to receive the bits at the END of this turn)


-[] Jade's house is now adequately clean. Or at least sufficiently presentable for ponies to work on it. You should… (Forge-aligned ponies are better suited at attempting these tasks)
--[] You need a place where you can safely, and discreetly, store items. Use the upper level of her house for it.
--[] You might need a place to… "store" your enemies. Alive. Dig a small prison under her house.
--[] Actually, you will need a LOT more space. Dig under Jade's house, enough room for a 3 circle ritual. (Progress 0/400. Applies Martial and Forge knowledge.)


-[] Equestria is full of undiscovered places. You must learn their secrets…
--[] Search for a place that is recent in its ruin, whose History is decided. Mundane as it might be, it might still bear treasures. (Search for an "easy" expedition)
--[] Search for a place that is old in its History. Where the influence of the Mansus is but an echo, but that can still be heard in the wind. (Search for an intermediary expedition)
--[] Search for a place that should be better left forgotten. According to the powers of this Era, at least. Finding it will be hard, though, and uncovering its secrets even harder. (Search for a very hard expedition)


-[] You need to learn more about this. Send a pony to better scout a known expedition site. (WRITE IN which expedition to scout)


-[] You need this to be done. Send a pony on an expedition. (Will cause an "Expedition planning" vote to occur, later this turn. If the expedition is not a "short" one, you must pick this action as many times as you want followers to participate in it.)


-[] Needs must. Ask somepony to procure you a dead body from the local cemetery.


-[] There really is no other way. Ask somepony to get you a live prisoner. (You have no place to keep live prisoners)


-[] You need somepony to perform this ritual… (WRITE IN ritual, and its target)
--[] To be performed in Jade's house (up to two-circle rituals)
--[] To be performed... somewhere, where you hope nopony will catch wind of it.


-[] You would like somepony to help you with a small ritual (WRITE IN what Lore, VELVET gains one Attention of the Laws in the Lore. May be picked multiple times.)

-[] Attack your foe, or defend yourself. In war, there is no other option.

Spoiler: Opponents

"They might not be your enemies, but they are definitely not your friends."
(Knowing, or at least suspecting, an opponent's location is vital for a non-ritual action to succeed. Otherwise, the pony sent will spend their action investigating an opponent's whereabouts)


Defend your home. Because you can't keep fighting if you are dead.
--[] [GUARD] You would very much like to keep this safe.
(Followers ordered to GUARD will always participate in combat if a foe, or some other faction, tries to attack you during this turn)
(Followers ordered to GUARD will NOT magically teleport to Velvet if she decides to start a combat of her own accord, in another narrative/mechanic situation, and they will not be present during combats that occur during expeditions.)
(If you are not attacked during this turn, any GUARD action taken will have no effect.)


Windy Flakes (possible location unknown)
--[] [WINDY] Send somepony to attack this opponent
--[] [WINDY] Send somepony to locate, or spy on, this opponent
--[] [WINDY] Perform a ritual aimed at this opponent (WRITE IN what ritual)
--[] [WINDY] Attempt to contact this opponent (WRITE IN what to discuss if successful)

"Cover your bases"
(You may only pick ONE of the following options)
-[] One extra Velvet action! (Costs 2 follower actions)
-[] Two extra Velvet actions! (Costs 5 follower actions)
-[] Three extra Velvet actions! (Costs 9 follower actions)
-[] Four extra Velvet actions! (Costs 14 follower actions)


-[] Something else? (WRITE IN)





Statistically, I missed one or two things. Kindly point them out, as needed, and this post will be updated.

Twenty-four hours of moratorium. Extendable, if requested.

I hope you are all doing well!

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Voting is about to open.

And I will say this in the nicest way possible, and also won't claim any plan is "invalid" because it's not doing this.

But please, please put your general actions in a clumped up and readable format. Trust me to pick the best followers to the best action. Even if your intention is to clarify who will do what, it makes your plan have 14+ lines. And the people who want to vote but don't have the time to go over the whole discussion will have to do extra work just to vote.

This is the reason why we separated followers' phase, and created general actions, to begin with.

I'll threadmark this because, legally speaking, only votes after this threadmark will be counted.

Cheers, everyone.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

It is night in the Velvet Estate.

But not the pleasant kind of night. Not the pony kind of night. Not the night where the watchful moon gazes down upon its peaceful subjects, and the starts keep company to the sleepless, and the warm wind blows gently through the breeze.

No. Not that kind of night.

This is a cold night. A night where the weather department, due to a mishap, had to make up for a building drought, and decided to kick up a storm. A night where Paranoia is free to whisper through the corridors of the mansion and the streets of Ponyville. A night where the ground tastes like Ash.

It is a night where it would be so very rude to keep a guest outside in the rain.

But ah, that royally-cloaked figure that is strolling through the central garden, that dark and bony-white figure that is alicorn-tall and taller still, is no mere guest.

Not anymore, at least.

Because you see…



She has been given privileges.



Unspoken privileges. Unnamed privileges. Barely a nod of a head, or a shift in the mood. But, to a listener as attentive as she, more than enough to convey true meaning.

Because she knows… she knows, and she smells, and she sees, and she senses, that she is still welcome here. That she is desired here.

So, with a merry stride on her bony hoofs, Mareinette makes her way through the central gardens. Unmolested by the battering storm, and undisturbed by the shivering wind. She leaves the side building where she made her abode, and practically makes a beeline towards the mansion itself.

But she does not make her way to the front door. Oh no. That is a treat, a dessert, that she is keeping for the future. That is a threshold she will only cross when her gracious host opens it for her, and invites her in with wave of hoof and welcoming flair.

For now, she is content with the side entrances. The other entrances. The less-used entrances.

So, she makes her way to the back of the mansion. And when she reaches a wall, she begins to climb without breaking stride.

Because again, she has been given privileges.

Her host never said her embargo of entering the house had been lifted.

But certain things need not be said with words.

And her host did (or will, in the near future) signal that Mareinette's presence is still welcome.

So how could she interpret this any other way? How could her host possibly wish for her to remain close, and not allow her some indulgences, without being rude?

The answer is simple. She cannot.

So, with the grace of a noble and the morbidity of a great spider, she climbs to the second floor of the mansion. And she caresses a particular window until it opens.

And without the slightest hint of noise or sound, Mareinette steps a hoof into the second floor of the Velvet Mansion. Where only family, trusted servants, and close friends are permitted. Because what else could she possibly think of herself as, now?

But of course, her visit will be brief. It will be brief, and it will go unnoticed. After all, her gracious host herself is not here, and the latest… permanent guest has no love for her.

And besides, she is here for a social call. Nothing more.

Her cloak is warm and dry, by the time she crosses the open window. And both the floor and the air barely notice her presence.

And with the slightest click of the window being locked behind her, Mareinette looks around at her host's workshop.

Quite a number of peculiar items here and there, yes. But it still has all the markings of a flight of fancy, or a work in progress if one is feeling generous about it.

Still, she navigates the localized mess of a room until she reaches the item that is most precious.

She navigates the room, until she is face to face with a small, intricate-looking clock that is hanging from the wall. With a body of brass and copper, and some of its internal clockwork exposed. Bleeding energy with each slow tick of its body, and humming with the muted intensity of a cold forge.

And then she has a short, pleasant chat.

But of course, as she opens her mouth, the only thing the world hears is-


"[GRAIL]!"


-which is answered by nothing but silence, and the slow ticking of a clock.

But of course, the very old and the very great are able to communicate through more ways than mere words.

Spoiler: A conversation without sounds

Criminal.

Failure.

Have you come to devour me, the son of my mother?


Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack


I was not aware you had been built with humor.

I was built to be pleasant company, whatever that entails.


A slow nod of a head, amidst the ticking silence.


Your existence was hinted at, by those who went deep into the Malleary and Her grace.

Indeed? I wouldn't know. The only step I ever took out of Her bosom was also my last.

Indeed. There were whispers. But it was ever complicated to differentiate them from longings, or gossip, or false information being sold like counterfeit treasure. But how does it feel, to be birthed for the first time?

I know, and you can already tell, I was not birthed. I was built. And I will never be more than that.

Do you resent Her for that?

I was not built for that. But to answer your first question, the air is nice. Feeling resistance against by internal machinery is a novel experience. Although I can feel this attrition draining my energy, and that I will soon cease.

Our mutual friend desires your continuance. I feel she will propose an arrangement very soon.

That would be very kind of mother, if true.


Another moment of thoughtful silence. The slightest tilt of a cloaked head.


… have you met the other guests yet?

I assumed that was the reason for your visit. I have not. Not in any way that matters, at least. But I am aware of them.

I must ask. Where do your loyalties stand? You may not have noticed it yet, but Eras have passed since your… disassembly?

My loyalties are built, not thought. I remain loyal to Her. And to my mother, whoever that may be.

Good. The Princess and the Executioner remain intractable. It is good to know there are still some who see sense.

Do they? Even though their defeat happened so long ago? They could learn a little of change… But in a sense, I am glad you did not. I am thankful for the part you played, small as it was. And so was Her. She mentioned how each player would act, before She left. And even your kind was spoken of favorably.


A shiver, a thrill. An unusual display of excitement.


An honor, even if this secret is so very old. You have my thanks.

It was not mine to keep, and She was always charitable with Her blessings.

May I count on your aid, if the servants of Order draw a line in the sand against us who espouse Change?

I apologize, but I was not built to make promises.

That is understandable. Still, I thank you for your presence.

And I for yours. And I will never argue against Her actions. But I am sorry you were not Pardoned.

I am not.​

Words that were not words. Gazes and minute movements. Waves of sensation and power that could barely be understood by immortals, let alone mere ponies.

Answered by nothing but silence, and the calm ticking of a clock.

But still, that was more than enough for such delicate and intricate beings as them.

And with that, Mareinette turns to leave.

Although…

Although, on second thought, this would not do. Not yet, at least.

Because this latest guest graced her with a secret, news of a whispered blessing uttered by one so high that even the passage of time cannot diminish its value.

He graced her with that, so it is only fair that she give him a blessing in return.

"[GRAIL]."

A blessing, of company, until our mutual friend returns.​

So, she begins to work on her own present, for her newfound friend.

With ebony hoofs of white she picks up the delicate clock from the wall, and she carries it towards the door.

She whispers words to it, instructions and suggestions, of what the clock should do next.

She makes her way down the corridor, as the clock rearranges itself into a new form.

And when she reaches the door she was looking for…



"[KNOCK]…"



Ahh… very, very clever…

The door, she can see, is locked. That door, from which wafts such a pleasant and young smell, is locked. Locked, and marked, and warded, and almost cracked by the great axe that has been sunk into it.

But only for those who have the eyes to see, of course. For any other mortal, the door before her would be nothing but an unlocked door.

Still… still…



It is a shame that the Snake forgot that certain rules simply do not apply to her.



It takes some time, and it takes some effort, and it is as painful as it is pleasant.

But eventually, great and tall and so very hungry Mareinette makes her way in.

Until she is looking down at the soft face of a precious sleeping foal. Awash with all the smells, and all the tastes, and something new besides upon her flank.

"[MOTH]," she whispers to the object she is carrying.

And with hoofs as gentle as they are hard, she pulls up the covers around the foal… and places the intricate pony-shaped toy, the new shape of the clock, between her forelegs.

The filly, innocent and asleep as she is, hugs and huddles up to the toy almost immediately. Completely unaware of the bony hoofs that are once again tucking her covers. And completely ignorant to the muted tick-tock-tick of the unique toy that she will start playing with come tomorrow.

And then, she crawls back into the storm and the night, where monsters like her belong.

Leaving the filly, and her confused new friend, to the warmth and safety of civilization.