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Her majesty Celestia looked at me for a second, her expression blank and focused. Then she took another sip from her black tea that time, though she added honey and a bit of what I can only guess is brandy that came from the ceramic bottle she summoned out of Hammerspace. I’m actually impressed that she knew such modern spellcraft.

“So, you are saying that the evidence of these claims are in this ‘shop’ and that, if we can get that under a microscope, then it can be determined that the Philharmonic family is guilty of using dangerous magic against their only daughter?”

I hunched at the table, look at her in the eye and said, “Aye”.

She set her cup down and took in a deep breath. She then decided get up, the entire room became more silent as she did so.

I then felt somepony grab a hold of me and give me a full bear hug.

It was one of the telepaths; she got behind me while I was distracted and decided that I needed one apparently. It may be strange to see another pony doing that during this type of situation but a telepath is, in a way, forced to empathize with those that they read, due to the instinctual nature of their power.

Most ponies would assume that telepathy is something that would come out of a unicorn spell. But in reality it’s an ability that can appear on any pony regardless of race. And Earthen telepaths are actually some of the strongest due to the instinctual nature of Earthen Magic; it is a double edged sword, though. Because it’s instinctual, they can’t really turn it off, at least not completely; they have to train to filter out any unnecessary foreign thoughts or else they would go insane from the sensory overload of feeling, seeing, and smelling the memories of all the ponies around them.

Their rarity and the difficulty of their training is what kept the concept of investigation to still exist actually. Telepaths would have replaced every detective in existence otherwise.

Though I wouldn’t wish anypony to hold my old job; ask any of the telepaths that interrogated me that day. They got a taste of the sort of madness that I had gone through; this is the work of ponies that are not sound of mind.

I held her left hoof while I took in a deep breath; I then decided that it was best that I got up as well, considering that Princess Celestia was already out the door and looking down at the city from the balcony.

As the telepath was still reading my mind at that point, she let me go before I could say a word. She stepped back and I got up and I headed after Celestia with as much calm as possible.

I looked at Celestia as she sat on her haunches, contemplating what I could only assume at the time was the situation. Her prism-like mane of flowing ether and the alabaster color of her fur complemented each other surprisingly well with her gold regalia; not to mention the fact that her figure was quite befitting of a goddess, especially from the back.

I audibly gulped before continuing to her side. I sat to her right and looked at her face; tears were flowing down from her magenta eyes, sorrow written all over her face. One can only imagine what she thought back then, of her citizens, or her family, of all efforts she had put forth.

In the end she was the most powerful pony in the world, yet she could do nothing but watch as the ponies that she swore to protect spit in the face of everything she had ever worked for.

That, to me, was the final straw; they abused their own child, incinerated my apartment, slaughtered my friends, and they made the most beautiful mare in the world cry. With that in mind I came to a resounding conclusion.

-I need my rifle.-

But then I mentally kicked myself in the back of the head; the princesses are suspects. Celestia could have properly arranged the transportation of the stars to Equestria, simply do nothing and wait for the Thule to try and release Nightmare Moon, and finally have an opportunity to release her sister.

But then I kept looking, and then I realized that while she is intelligent and powerful enough in every sense of the word, it would have simply been simpler to try and get the artifacts herself, use them, and then find a loophole around the sacrifice requirement.

In the end, she is Celestia.

And if she was a detached monster interested in only her own benefit, she would have stayed in her birth land of Gaul with Luna and taken over the place with an iron hoof and an unhinged taste for vindictive slaughter. Especially considering the facts that their neighbors declared both Celestia and Luna witches due to them both having a horn and wings, were sold into slavery before they could use their full power, and they were developing into the most beautiful mares in history, you can unfortunately guess what kind.

We should count ourselves lucky that Starswirl got to them before anything unsavory happened.

If you are asking how in Tartarus and the Nine Circles of Sheol I know this, you can blame A.K. Yearling for that.

“Folklore, are you all right?” Celestia asked, noticing that I was no longer on Earth. Some tears were still visible on her face.

So I answered. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. I think that it’s best if I prepared to leave. I don’t think that it’s wise for me to take any more of yer time.”

She then just hugged me out of nowhere, telling me, “Just call me Celestia, you brilliant idiot.”

I felt my cheeks redden at the sudden turn of events. I wasn’t sure if she should even do this out in the open, or if I even was worthy of the affection.

So I said probably one of the stupidest things I have ever said in my life.

“Prin- I mean Celestia, ya can let me go now.”

She then let me go and then did her best to straighten herself out. I noticed that I was bare of my woolen long coat so I looked to my left to see a dumbfounded bureaucrat with a rather nice handkerchief in his left suit pocket; frankly I didn’t know if my access to the ether had returned but I decided to telekinetically take that handkerchief, and to my surprise, it actually flew out of that pocket and smacked me straight in the face.

I then took it and gave it to Princess Celestia. I know it’s a tad silly, but leaving an upset mare without a handkerchief is something that I couldn’t really sit right with. If I didn’t provide one to a crying mare in front of me, I felt like my mother would somehow manifest herself from the grave and smack me in the back of the head for being an inconsiderate moron.

“Here, you should probably wipe the tears; ye have a country to rule after all.”

She did as I said and once she was done she folded it neatly and trotted back to the table with it floating by her side. I looked back to the poor stallion I stole that from, a certain Dotted Hieronymus Line. He was staring at me with a blank expression, but I could tell something more than just contempt was there, judging by the subtle glint in his eye.

He was wearing a rather neat wine red jacket with a silk cravat hiding what I can only guess is his service medallion. He looked at me and, with his golden aura, he telekinetically pulled a simple wooden pipe from his jacket along with a small box of safety matches and some tobacco.

As soon as he placed the tobacco in the pipe, I pyrokinetically lit it before he could use his matches, slightly startling him.

“I know it’s not my place to say, but pyrokinesis is faster, and due to the ether’s immaterial nature, it has no flavor, unlike the matches you were about to use. I think it helps with the quality of the tobacco.”

He took a drag for a second, nodded with some approval, and then talked to me.

“I won’t say that I don’t appreciate the courtesy, but I would have liked a warning first.”

I couldn’t help but smirk slightly; this was rather entertaining.

“I should probably also thank ye for lending me your handkerchief.”

He raised his eyebrow at me for that one; he then exhaled a puff of smoke. This was going to be fun.

“Careful, Lore, you know what was said about Icarus.”

I shot back in haste. Icarus never knew what he was dealing with anyway. I, on the other hoof, had an idea.

“I fancy myself as more of a Daedalus, maybe an Odysseus.”

Then we heard the hoofsteps of a certain solar divine, causing us both to look behind us.

“As much as I enjoy watching you two bonding, I believe you both have work to do.”

We both looked at Princess Celestia incredulously. I felt like breaking the awkwardness, since I saw no need to make her feel uncomfortable.

“Right, I’ll head out then.”

I begin to trot in the direction of the door before been stopped by one of the telepaths. She then took off her cloak to reveal that she was white, blond, and a long-haired earthen. She stared through me with cold blue eyes.

“Henri wants to see you.”

That was the telepathic message she gave to me. A mental image of it written down in plain ol’ ink and paper. I couldn’t help but smirk; something was actually going my way on that venture. I winked her way and headed through the door with newfound swagger.

I was sure that I could finally do it, get Arpeggio in hoof-cuffs and have him tried publicly, his crimes exposed, his fellow Thule Esoteric Order brothers found, identified and vulnerable, make the whole thing a spectacle, as to let the aristocrats and the mad sorcerers know that they have no sway on the world anymore, and let them know that their dream of a unicorn ruled world was about as ludicrous as a tyrannical Celestia. A more primal part of me demanded that I take Arpeggio's head and then have the rest of his body hang in front of the Philharmonic Hall, but I wasn’t going to do that.

That was a good high; I wished that I could have kept it going.

I was greeted by one of Celestia’s maids as she held a brown duffle bag in her mouth; it looked like one of mine, so I immediately took it off her hooves, or in this case mouth.

I shamelessly trotted past her without so much as a thought, only for her to quickly catch up with me. At the time, I simply thought that she wasn’t going to have none of my attitude.

“Hey, stop! Do you even know where you are going? I’m supposed to escort you to your room.”

I looked back reacting to the sound of her voice. Truth be told I was confused, I was planning on heading straight to the shop.

“I think ya maybe confusing me for somepony else, sweetheart, though I can’t see how. Last I checked vagabonds aren't exactly allowed in here.”

I looked at her green eyes, sandy-yellow color, and her seafoam mane with renewed interest, mainly in that she looked that she was slightly confused to what I said.

“Aren’t you Arcanum Folklore? Princess Luna’s guest? She gave me orders to show you to one of the diplomatic guest rooms.”

Given that she said my name and that she had a nervous look on her face, I concluded that she was new to working in Canterlot. But what she said gave me alarm because nopony was supposed to know that I even knew Princess Luna. Though Celestia figured that out; she already knew me previously, and more importantly, she was Luna’s older sister; as such, she knew her better than anypony else at the time, so that gave her the means to figure out that it was Luna that hired me.

I had no reason to believe the maid at first about her orders, but that look on her face and the tone of her voice told me that at least she thought that her orders were real. So at the very least, I still had to follow her to see who knew my connection to Luna, and if it was actually Luna that ordered her to fetch me, I had to talk to as to why she needed me to be away from my evidence and my personal library.

“Aye, I am. I apologize for not telling ya who I was earlier, I’m not exactly at liberty to talk.”

She groaned slightly, giving me that ‘I’m not paid enough for this crap’ expression that one encounters so frequently in everyday life. Not that I blame her; having to deal with a smelly, crazed stallion must have been last thing she expected to do at around 8:40 AM in the morning.

“Just follow me and don’t wander off.”

And so I did. Despite the fact that I was surrounded by beautiful art, exquisite architecture, and the sound of chirping mockingbirds, I was focused on another piece of exquisite architecture. Also, by ‘exquisite architecture’ I meant that particular maid’s round and well sculpted arse that was still visible despite the rather conservative and professional maid attire she was wearing.

I’ll be the first one to admit that me staring was probably due to the fact that I’d denied myself any tail over the last year and beyond. But it probably also had to do with the newfound pep in my step that I felt the moment I left the Celestial Archive. I shouldn’t have been feeling that well. Fucking Tartarus, I should have died back there. Yet I was feeling like I’d drank a whole mug of coffee, not to mention that I suddenly just felt fifteen years younger.

I wasn’t exactly middle aged being thirty five back then, but the war, the adventures with Bronze Savage, my detective work, and my occult dealings and investigation had really taken its mental and physical toll on me. Yet at that moment, I felt as fresh as when I first started, which, instead of being a source of joy, perplexed and worried me. When did I make a deal for something like that? And what was it that I agreed in exchange for it? Knowing many a demon, fay, and decaying half dead gods, the price couldn’t have been cheap. The price probably hadn’t even been paid yet, and there was the possibility that it was something that I never knew that I had in the first place. Not to mention the fact that I didn’t remember a thing.

“You're being pretty quiet back there,” the maid with the seafoam mane and green eyes told me as she looked back at me with her sandy-yellow face. She was giving me that tilted inquisitive look for a second there as we kept trotting.

“Sorry sweetheart, I was lost in thought. Though I thought that ya maids prefered to avoid talking with guests. Considering how most high class guests usually look at ya as furniture rather than another pony.”

I’ll admit that I was grasping at straws, but let’s face it, if anything is universally common around the world, it’s the higher class’ contempt for the working class. Their pampered silver spoon-fed lives renders them incapable of comprehending what real labor is like. Sure that is not true everywhere, but in Canterlot, the stereotype applies to such a degree that it can practically be considered parody. And ya lot were wondering why I would destroy Canterlot if I could get away with it? That is one of the reasons.

Honestly, one week of planning, bomb making, and me placing a bomb on each of the Magical Anchors is all I would have had to do to achieve that. But alas, one cannot make the entire city pay for the sins of its wealthiest; it’s not exactly sane.

Funny how Canterlot’s unique brand of corruption keeps crime hidden away and ignored so that it can always claim to be the most peaceful city in Equestria, but in reality it’s not that much better off than Manehattan; of course, that is probably because the common Manehattanite back then was more interested in actually solving a problem rather than keeping their property values up.

“You are not exactly giving me the impression of a socialite, or a noble, not even a foreign one. Your accent sounds like it’s from the Celtic Isles, but some of your vocabulary is undoubtedly Equestrian.” She was curious, so I saw no harm in making conversation.

“And ya would be correct me lass. I’m actually from Manehattan, and ye could argue that I’m just a Consultant Sorcerer of sorts. I’ve been on hard times, so I was relieved that the princesses gave me some honest work. Had a bit of an incident last night with some me commissioned research materials, so I barely made it out alive. Her Royal Highness just had me join her breakfast to make sure that I can continue working. As for me accent, that’s real, lassy. I’m of Celtic descent.” It was barely a half truth but it should have been good enough to sate her curiosity.

“So you are just one of the scientists that the princess likes to throw grants to when she catches wind of research she likes. That does explain the stubble; I imagine that you barely get to leave the lab for any social outings, so you don’t bother much with appearances. Doesn’t explain the toned muscles though.”

She spoke that last sentence almost as a whisper, but I still heard it. I couldn’t help but think mischievously. But then I reminded myself that I was in the middle of a job and that my last relationship ended with me having to talk to Redheart about ending it for her own happiness and future, and I went from having a wolfish smirk to a somber scowl in less than a few seconds.

She didn’t see that as we kept trotting, as she was actually paying attention to where she was going.

“My name is actually Sea Sandstone Cove; normally we maids don’t talk to guests, but the way that I see it, us who serve the princesses should stick together. They may pay well and have the best of intentions, but it doesn’t mean that they won't work us ragged. Am I right?” Sandstone was pretty playful for a maid, though she was young; from her looks and attitude, I would say twenty five at most. Though she was no child; that was certainly true. How she got one of my duffle bags was a bit of a mystery, but it’s possible that whoever brought me to the medical wing in the castle brought with them one of my duffle bags with spare clothes and ammo.

“Well Ms. Cove, I personally couldn’t agree more. Though call me surprised, what is a west coast pony like ya doing in Canterlot--not that I’m one to talk considering me own birthplace on the east coast. But Canterlot is the last place that you would expect to see a mare like yourself.” Say what you will, but Canterlot’s anal retentiveness is something that I can barely stomach; a west coast mare like her must have found it maddening when she first came to the city.

“Well, what if I told you that Princess Celestia herself sent me a letter with an airship ticket, and interviewed me herself the moment I got out of the airstrip? As it turns out, we met when she went to Los Alicorn to see what a film studio looks like, I was working as a stagehoof and we managed to get into a rather riveting conversation on how I needed a higher paying job; after she left I thought that would be the last I would see of our illustrious ruler until I got the letter.” What did I tell you? Celestia isn't a manipulative tyrant. Take it from somepony that has seen his number of conspiracies, I know a real one when I see it.

“Oh, and we’re here.” She said that as she stopped and turned around.

I tried my best to fake a smile as a bit of an attempt at being polite. “Ye think I can see ye later, sweetheart?”

She gave me a genuine smile, not the kind that they teach ya to fake in Castle Maid Training for delegates, nobles, and diplomats, but an actual smile as an actual show of affection. “Sorry, I can’t guarantee that. But I’ll talk to the princess to see I can have some time off.” She accented that with a wink as she opened the door for me; I trotted through and then I heard the sound of the doorknobs click behind me. I looked back to notice that the door was closed, and I still had the duffle bag floating beside me.

After a sigh, I turned around to look at Bloody Merry herself laying comfortably on her side on the luxurious looking white queen sized bed reading some files, this time wearing her usual black trench coat and seethrough black stocking ensemble. As soon as she noticed me staring, she closed the file placed it on the nightstand. “Don’t be so surprised to see me here. Though I think that we both have some explaining to do, luv’.”

I dropped the bag on the bed and went to the vacant right side of the bed; I prepared myself mentally for what was to come.

“Should I start, or do ya want the honors?”

I heard her take a deep breath, thinking it over. Though the answer didn't take long to come.

“It’s fine Lore, I think I need to come clean anyway. I started working for Celestia after she discovered I was spying on her. You know the ‘Sun Job’ tradition that Albion has? As expected I failed, and then I just about had it with the Kingdom of Albion. So instead of returning to jolly Albion, I decided to stay here. I even have full citizenship and everything. Celestia had heard that you died, so she had me investigate. It wasn’t until yesterday that I managed to find you. I had to go to Manehattan blind; I was searching for you for months, nopony was willing to sell you out, I would have believed you really did die if I hadn’t checked the morgue to only find a manikin where your cadaver should have been. At some point, your friend Signature Typewriter just decided to just tell me that you were living in Canterlot under the name of Whisper,” I heard her say, almost sounding depressed. She was certainly in a melancholy mood, probably because I nearly died in front of her. I owed her my life, yet I was grimly determined to have my vengeance before I could consider any possibility of a life outside of that.

“I guess it’s my turn? All right, what do you want to know?”

I said that thinking on what she would ask, if anything. But then I thought that she was simply going to ask me one thing: what happened to me?

“What happened to you last night? You coughed up a lot of blood, and you looked like you had a magical rebound. I had to get one of your adrenalin shots to get you stabilized long enough to burn a letter to Celestia to send in some medics. When it was Luna that showed up, teleporting into the room to come and get you, I was surprised. She had that look on her face that said that she knew you. She had me gather that duffle bag, and then we all teleported to the Canterlot Castle Medical Wing.” Oh boy, was that tough to explain, but I had to come clean so…

“Princess Luna is the client; I sought her out once I could, and we talked. We had a mutual enemy with the Thule Esoteric Order so she hired me to identify their members, find out where they are, and then join her in hunting them down. We sealed the contract in blood.

“As for what happened last night? I saw something. I saw a tall figure draped in a cloak that switched aimlessly between golden and yellow, floating in the endless void among the stars, as if it was projecting itself from beyond the known expanses of reality; darkness peeked from the robes as I saw a the beginning of an endless amalgamation of shadowy tendrils peeking through the bottom of the cloak. A stone amulet hung in a golden chain from its neck, on it a gold glyph of neither Xing nor Arabic origin, or from any other equine or known mortal language. It was mesmerizing and inexplicable. As I tried and failed to compare it with anything else I had seen before, no Hyborian or Sumerian script matched. And then I noticed that that figure had been looking down the whole time, and then when it looked to me I saw a blank white porcelain mask featureless but slightly cracked. Then it continued to crack more until finally it exploded revealing…”

I began to hyperventilate, my blood pumping so fast that I could hear my own heart. I was having a panic attack. And then I spoke again. Celestia I spoke again…

“It was beyond anything I could truly describe! The horror of its inconceivable features were making me sick! Voices from beyond the void of known space yelled to me in over a dozen tongues that I couldn't identify for the love of me! But I could see its intent! It wants to come to our world, it wants to see its sibling dead but dreaming underneath the deepest oceans of our world! I know not why, or how, but everything in my mind and body screamed that it would be the end of us, of everything. This world is not ours, Merry! This world was never ours from the start, we are nothing in the cosmic scale of things, and even the gods of centuries past pale in comparison!

“I knew since childhood of our insignificance, but know I truly have a grasp of the scale! We have to--!”

And then Merry at some point got on top of me and slapped me out of my madness; my breathing started to calm down, my eyes still wide open now looking to the nightstand to my right. I then looked at her tear filled hazel eyes on her velvet-red face. Her breathing was rhythmic, but slightly panicked. And then she yelled at me, justifyingly so.

“What in bloody fucking sheol was that!” I looked at her; I did my best to look at her without averting my gaze, no matter how much I wanted too.

“I-I don’t know, but that was what I saw after I gleamed into Octavia Philharmonic’s mind. I saw her get physically abused by the family that uses her so. Then it jumped to that.” And that was that. I had nothing else to reveal. I stuttered a little but that was all I said to her at that moment.

Merry then quickly got off the bed, and said the following. “I need to leave. I-I need to think.” She then practically galloped out of the room, slamming the door as she left.

I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me back then. But I knew that I stumbled into something beyond my depth, into the first glimpses into the truth of our reality. Suddenly, my vendetta seemed small, insignificant compared to what I had just stumbled into. But I still had a job to do.

So I got up and I took my duffle bag and I went into the rooms luxurious bathroom located to the left of the bed. I opened my duffle bag to reveal a spare long black woolen overcoat and fedora. I also saw a couple of boxes of .44 bullets, my snubbed-revolver, and my kurdish dagger. I also saw my straight razor and some shaving soap mix, tied to a small bag with my sanitation kit and a bottle of Opiate Pills. I figured it was about time I groomed so I got to it.

I got to mixing, the soap with water using the shaving brush and a ceramic bowl that was graciously placed on a pedestal next to the sink.

I then took the soapy shaving brush and I used it to smother my stubble with the soap mixture. I telekinetically started shaving; it was going well until I started hearing the dozen voices again. My telekinetic grip slipped a bit and I cut my chin, drawing blood. My heart rate began to accelerate again as sweat gathered on my brow as another panic attack began. The blood began to form the glyph that I saw during the astral projection ritual I performed the night before.

But then I heard the discharge of magic on the room through the closed door of the batroom. And I snapped back into reality.

I took deep breaths to calm myself and I took a good look in the mirror just to make sure that there was nothing behind me. I then continued to shave, followed by a quick shower, hasty combing into my usual slicked back look, some teeth brushing and a bit of mouthwash that was also in my duffle bag. and then I put on my black overcoat, and fedora hat.

I actually thought for a moment that I began to look like myself again.

I topped it off with an unlit cigarette; some ponies, for some reason, always considered the cigarette to be intimidating, considering that I’ve used the smoke and the flame of it as weapons before. It didn’t surprise me. I then had a small pain at the back of my skull, then I realized that I began to sense Princess Luna’s magic. She was in the room, so just in case, I took my revolver and I loaded it as fast as my telekinesis allowed me to, and I cocked back the hammer. I then placed the weapon in my coat.

I then opened the luxurious white door to find the princess laying on her side reading the files that Bloody Merry left behind when she was there. She was also once again devoid of her royal regalia and jewelry, her starry mane flowing on the unseen winds of the ether. She then looked at me and began to recite what she read while I was preparing for the day.

“Thou once fought in what is called here the ‘Gallic Foreign Legion’, for five years in a war between the Kingdom of Shiba and thine ancient homeland of Gaul. Thou wert distinguished for survival inside enemy encampments in the ruins of Urrasan--a place we are amazed was actually found at all. Thou fought thy way back into the Gallic fortification of thy legion, leaving no survivors back on Urrasan, in which thou wert trapped in for three weeks!

“This wast after thee, as ordered by thy lords, used thy alchemical knowledge to create a weapon known as the ‘Spiritum Balar’ which burned and even melted the enemies of Gaul.

“And when Shiba retaliated with the undead abominations known as ‘zombies’ that besieged the fortification, you took a small band warriors and managed to escape thy doomed fate.”

I was shaking at that; she had no idea of what really happened there, she was only reading the ‘official’ report. Flashes of that time, of that first taste of war, came back to me like wet moldy bread washed down with stale beer. The cannon and machine gun fire buzzing above my head from both sides, as I was in a deep trench. My first kill with a sharpened shovel as I split a zebra Infantry Stallion’s skull open in said trench, knee deep in the blood-soaked mud and sand, wet with the life blood of many unicorn and zebras alike.

Then I started to remember screams and the sight of the melting zebra civilians as I was forced to watch the effects of my most shameful creation, a creation that I was forced to make when my superiors learned of my knowledge and education. I’d labored to produce the bile chemical horror with a rifle aimed at my back, and the threat of execution by my superiors.

The foul smell of the corrosive effects of the ‘Spiritus Balar’ as I watched it eat through flesh and bone, and how the victims screamed in absolute agony, like the wailing of banshees signaling the damnation of your soul, only multiplied by the thousands.

And when I resisted I was sent to back to the front, along with many others on a suicide mission to capture the ruins of Urrasan, they were all slaughtered, I was captured, tortured, violated. I was abandoned and left to die. I, in my foolishness, refused, and in my wrath I escaped their grasp, but I was trapped in the ruins, three weeks being lost in that damned place killing and scavenging from any zebra that I could until I managed to crawl back to the fort of my station, being tailed by the cursed undead.

I came back to reality as I saw Princess Luna watching me with curiosity.

“How art thou feeling? When we made the potion from mine own blood, we were not sure thee would survive the ordeal of it being administered directly into thy veins. But here thou are standing in better vigor than when we first laid eyes on thee. Truly the Ghost of Urrasan lives up to his reputation.”

The way that she said it with such a prideful smile made me sick to my stomach. My sins were no glory, and I wasn’t happy that they were being recited to me as if they were accomplishments.

She then threw me my ‘trinket’; I catched it mid-air telekinetically with that devil may care smile that would have been charming had I been on a better mood.

“We take it that is the origin of thy accomplishments? We are impressed you learned to use such an ancient enchanted item. Didst thou find it in the ruins of Urrasan when thou wast in mid battle there? It must have been quite the advantage when thee learned how to use it.”

At that moment I snapped; I lost the ability to accept praise for such atrocities.

So I pocketed my ‘trinket’ and I started to trot towards the door, giving no heed or acknowledgement to Princess Luna. As she started to move towards me I spit venom from my words.

“Of course it was, your majesty, but then you would understand the advantages of the use of such ancient sorcery, wouldn’t you, Nightmare Moon?”

At the moment I dared to say that, a telekinetic blast had launched me through the air, causing me to smash through the white ornate door, reducing it to splinters and letting me slide incoherently onto the polished marble floor.

I heard her start to sob; she then galloped to my left, then I heard the crackling of electricity, followed by the unmistakable sound of a magical discharge.

Princess Luna teleported out of that hallway, leaving me by my lonesome. I got back on all fours, cracked my neck and then started to quickly think to what just happened.

I sat on my hunches, then I drew my .44 snub-revolver and gave it a good look. Judging by her reaction to the mentioning of Nightmare Moon, she remembered everything from that possession. What horrors did she perform while in that state? Her guilt must have been immeasurable, for if half of what the legends mentioned about the Celestial Vault War were true, her atrocities far outweighed my own. She didn’t know what I had gone through; she’d only read the official records, and those are hardly accurate; they are biased towards the Gallic Republic, and because they had no evidence of my mutiny, they never executed me.

For a second, just for a second I thought there was only one honorable thing to do in the face of everything I have done. So I took my .44 sub-revolver with my right hoof and placed it to the side of my head, then at that moment I began to pull the trigger only for the weapon to be yanked out of my hoof. Not half a second later, there was the feeling of a sledge hammer slugging my gut. It was a solid punch from a feminine brick-red forehoof who I recognized belonged to none other than Bloody Merry.

I heard the clicking and the resounding dings of the drop of the revolver’s ammo to the marble floor. The sound of the brass and lead hitting the marble was almost like the chirping of mockingbirds easing me awake; it brought me back to my senses and back into the world of the living.

I straightened myself out and looked at Merry; she was looking at with an almost sullen expression that those of us that live our life of secrets and madness is expected to have. At that point it was obvious that this went from a case to something so much worse that it’s simply beyond me to give it a name.

“Thank ya for that. I wasn’t exactly in the best place.Though considering what happened, what are ya doing back?”

She took in a deep breath, and pocketed my revolver. She then came and gave me a hug out of all things. Maybe she wasn’t just trying to seduce me for her own purposes, maybe she had a real heart underneath the cheerful spy and murder machine that she was. Not that I wasn’t any better, my hooves were even more bloodsoaked, and I knew it.

“Simple. I in good conscience could not leave you knowing that in that state you would probably hurt yourself. Which is why I will be keeping the gun. I heard the conversation. It was rather harsh of you to pull the Nightmare Moon card on her.”

I started telekinetically picking up the bullets, unsure whether to look Merry in the eye or not.

“I lost myself, she talked about it like I should be proud when she didn’t know what really happened. I should have informed her, but the visions and the memories caused me to snap.”

She slapped her hoof to her face. Needless to say that she had the right.

“I think that you should consider yourself to have a devil’s luck, luv’. You should be chunky red and bloody flesh paste by now.”

She wasn’t wrong; one lightning bolt to the horn could have done that to me easily, and with the speed she could cast it? I wouldn’t have been able to see it coming. So once I pocketed the bullets into my coat, I already started having an apology for Luna forming in my head.

“Aye sweetheart, but I think we still have work to do. The princess and I have a Blood Sealed Contract; even if she desires nothing but my head on a pike and for my corpse to be paraded through the city, I still am obligated to to continue searching for the Thule Esoteric Order.”

Merry sighed in resignation, and decided to trot ahead.

“I will wait for you outside Lore. We may need more firepower; hopefully Henri will not mind lending us some of his.”

I then decided to go the opposite direction. I needed a favor, and truthfully that favor meant everything to me. And there was only one mare that I could trust with it.

_____________________________________________________________________________

{6 Minutes Later}

Luckily, Sea Sandstone Cove was still around the castle. I followed her ether trail from where we first met. She was at the moment talking to some tall, blond-maned, white pretty boy with a white smoking jacket and large chest frame in the lobby leading to the exit. He had the most forced accent I’ve ever heard, and his horn was half the size of a bloody damned foreleg. The only thing actually respectable about him is his brass compass flower mark, which was meant to represent his diplomatic ability. Of course, I’m talking about Count Blueblood. What? You expected me to call him Prince? Sorry, but let’s make something here clear: Blueblood legally changed his name to Prince Blueblood and declared himself to be a descendant of Prince Ironclad, Celestia’s first son, who died over eight hundred years ago at that point, I might add. He did this with a false convoluted genealogy as a publicity stunt to try and get the more conservative unicorn nobles that actually held seat in Parliament to try to agree on a trade deal with the Skorpan Empire, across the Atlantic, and past the Mediterranean Sea. Celestia might have liked the intention, but she despised her son's name to be used in such a way so she condemned him to be her eyes and ears in every aristocratic gathering he could enter.

When I got next to them to try and talk to Ms. Cove, I heard the following.

“Listen to me, you stupid mud pony, I need to get my tea at exactly seven sharp in the morning or else I won’t be able to stay awake and listen to the dribble of both the arrogant Parliament nobles and moronic commoner officials. And would it have killed you to wear the short Gallic outfit? I needed those-”

At that moment, I turned him to me in the blink of an eye and slugged his muzzle with a resounding crunch and the sickeningly wet feeling of blood. Naturally, he dropped to the ground covering his bleeding muzzle with both hooves.

“My beautiful sexy face! You made me bleed my beautiful sexy blood!”

After I heard that, I began to ignore his whining and pained groans, mostly because I really didn’t care much for him.

“Miss Cove? Sorry about that, but I need a favor. I need ya to take this letter to the barracks to a Corporal Percutor, with a bouquet of white lilies and lavenders that you will buy in the address I wrote on the back. Don’t worry about the bits, the banknote is in the envelope with the letter.”

She paid attention, but she was still trying to properly process the fact that I openly punch other ponies with little provocation.

“Um-m sure…”

Eh that was close enough.

“All right, see ya around.”

______________________________________________________________________________

{Around 9:00 AM, The Narrows}

I was restless; my mind played with the possibilities. About a dozen different scenarios were working their way through my mind. I needed to bring the evidence back to Celestia, and I needed to get my hands on a living Thule. The last one had proven to be difficult, the first one should have been easy granted that everything was still in order.

I wasn’t sure.

I knew that I needed to check the Canterlot Underground--the sewers and service tunnels that traversed the whole city. Henri’s gang knew how to use it well, and if there was a place more ideal in the whole Unicorn Range, the Everfree, and Canterlot Mountain to hide secrets and move freely, I didn’t know it yet.

Merry stayed silent, her demeanor more and more somber. I tried my best to stay focused on the task, as we trotted from the Palace district to the Canterlot Narrows.

It was the part of Canterlot that none of the tourists or foreign dignitaries got to see. It was old, made of ancient centuries old stone masonry, and, by all standards, derelict. The earthen, griffons, Xing, and even some unicorns that lived in this area were living in what can only be described as resentful squalor. Most there were either dying of sickness due to the nasty sanitary conditions, or because they got beaten to death in the process of stealing a wallet, that place could only be called misery.

The Redlight at least was clean, and by all standards was filled with pleasure houses of all types.

The Narrows, though...the Narrows was the last place you ended up before dying in Canterlot. The Narrows was the price of opulence, in a way. I was no stranger to slums, especially considering that I came from Sheol’s Kitchen, but back in Manehattan we at least didn’t pretend that Sheol’s Kitchen didn’t exist.

I pyrokinetically lit my cigarette as we started getting closer to the Corpse Alley, the only way to get on the route to Henri’s Place in sewers, mostly to just overpower the smell and to tell any would be desperate muggers ready to pounce on us to.

“Fuck off.”

After saying that I heard hooves stop in their tracks and start trotting on the other direction.

Until we reached it.

Corpse Alley.

Merry talked first. What she saw certainly earned her attention, and mine.

“It just is not my bloody fucking day.” In the harshest tone that that pretty mare could muster.

I, on the other hoof?

“In the alley filled with corpses lies the army of the hopeless. But it seems that we are late.”

What is it that we saw?

Chum, or at least it looked like that at first glance. In reality it was the blown up remains of half a dozen ponies, their blood still wet and painting the soot covered gray stone walls of the alley, some of their limbs still intact enough to be recognizable, and wet flesh and shattered bone everywhere on sight, along with I can only guess to be shredded internal organs. This of course was covering or was in with the somewhat shredded remains of their clothing consisting of green military style fatigues, with black leather trench-coats. Some brass goggles and gas masks were also around.

Oh, that was a fucking disaster. There was too much raw savagery back there to be the work of an equine, and the wound patterns spoke of something that moved in a way that I have never seen before. The corpses reduced to chum, speak of a sudden lightning strike to the horn.

“Nasty way to go, but from what I can tell it was probably quick at the very least. Not enough time to think about your imminent demise, a small mercy if there ever was one.”

Then I saw it, covered in blood, in the middle of it all, a steel object somewhat looking like a gun, but not quite it.
It was large and cumbersome, about twice the mass of the old Enfield service rifle that I used during my time in the legion. I telekinetically lifted it off the pool of blood and flesh, looked at it carefully, and then I took it with my right forehoof. The sound it made when it activated was like hearing an electrical generator up close, it had a powerful hum that ran through both our bodies, probably from the electrical energies that it emanated from its core. Did it have to do with the surrounding carnage? Probably; maybe one of them tried to turn it on in desperation because of what they might have encountered, and due to poor hoofdeling it caused a misfire or a power surge of some kind. Though to be fair, at the very least I had a good piece of evidence to study, if it proved to be too impractical to use that is.

“I say we move forward, do ya agree?”

Merry already had my .44 revolver loaded and ready when I asked. She certainly was a good girl.

“‘Agree’ doesn’t even describe it, luv’. Care to give this girl a fag?”

And I did so; I gave her one of my jade dragon cigarettes and pyrokinetically lit it for her. She took in a deep drag, and she then blew the smoke out between her teeth.

“I am good now.”

We trotted until reaching a seemingly empty wall on the back.

We waited only for a couple of seconds, as customary.

With the heavy sound of derelict gears grinding, the wall began to sank into the cobblestone alley, revealing a passageway into the stairs leading into the sewers. Somehow the stench emanating from it overpowered the stench of death in that alley of corpses.

“Once more into the unknown.”

We both went in.

And with that it began: first blood.

The oldest and strongest emotion of equine kind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.