***

Evening arrives quietly over Canterlot, settling into every nook and cranny of the city. The artificial lights hold on to their own, creating islands of light amidst the growing sea of shadows. The Canterlot School of History and Linguistics also brings its formidable arsenal into the fray, illuminating the premises and even some of the surrounding alleys. Most of the windows are already dark, so the work is left for the magical lamps that have been arranged all over the arches, roof, and walls of the building. Only one window still has life in it, the one office located near the Eastern end of the School. In the shadows below, a figure stares at it intently, and after the light finally dies, he disappears into the young night.

On one of the School’s side entrances, a door opens and closes as Professor Axiom makes his way off the building. His black top hat and suit make him a natural inclusion to the surrounding dimness. He manages to take full four steps before a low voice stops him.

“Hello, Professor.”

Axiom freezes for an instant, but then turns quickly around to locate the source of the voice. All he can see is blackness, passive, indifferent blackness. Until it comes alive, that is.

“Who goes there!” shouts the old stallion as he sees a figure detaching from the shadows. His breathing quickens and he drops his suitcase that floated alongside him, for a new spell is gathering in his horn. “I warn you, I’m a skilful magic user!”

The figure clad in shadows comes closer, and speaks. “No need to panic, Professor. We’re all friends here.” Syllable light’s his horn and repels the darkness around.

Professor squints at the sudden burst of light, but he doesn't need to see the stranger to recognize his voice. “Reg Syllable. By the mane of Celestia, what are you doing here?”

Reg walks idly closer, and stops a few steps from the professor. “My light isn’t too bright, I hope? Would you have me fade it a bit?”

“Answer the bloody question!” snaps Axiom, still squinting.

“I take that as a ‘no’. What comes to your question… We need to exchange a few words.”

“And you couldn't think of a better time then after the closing of the School?! What on Earth is the matter with you, boy?!”

I wanted to make you feel a bit less secure, and that is exactly what you are without your dear tomb of an office around you. “The issue is a private one, you see, so there is no need to bother you with it during your time in office.”

“What nonsense… I don’t even care to know what you want from me! Mark my words, I shall bring this up in the next meeting of the Board. Now, get out of my way.” The professor tries to walk past Syllable, but he steps in his way, dimming his light at the same time. It’s only then that Axiom sees his bruised face. The gruesome sight makes him flinch.

“Come now, Professor… The night has only just begun.” Syllable’s disfigured smile makes a shudder travel over Axiom’s spine. His horn begins to glow faintly.

Syllable notices that. “You try to cast that immobility spell on me, I knock your teeth out. My hoof outruns you aged mind thrice over, but mark my words, it will have the exact same effect as your favourite spell.” He ends his sentence with another smile.

Axiom’s eyes widen. “You… you just threatened my person…” The shock alone makes his horn dim again.

“Trust me, at this point, I’m ready for much more. But I didn’t come here to beat you up, and if you don’t give me a reason to, I won’t have to resort to beating old ponies.” Syllable’s smile dies away slowly. “Although, given that you just called yourself a skilful magic user, my conscience wouldn’t be too bothered if the need to defend myself were to arise.”

The rage building up inside Axiom is so huge that Reg can easily see it filling his whole body. He is practically a barrel of black powder that has somehow grown hands and tried to juggle a flaming torch. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he can formulate a sentence.

“You… despicable piece of… rotten corpse filled with… What do you want?”

Well, that was easier than I thought. “I wish to resign from the School,” says Syllable with a casual tone.

Axiom’s jaw drops.

“I have one condition, though. First I need you to give me some information about a certain mare. A mare called Chillburn.”

Syllable can practically see from Axiom’s eyes how the contradicting drives and instincts clash with differing thoughts and impressions in his mind. “How do you… I have never heard of any such person!” he finally manages to shout.

“And yet you visited her on several occasions during the last year. I heard this from a reliable source, but if you really want to prolong this encounter by arguing over facts like this, we’re really going to have a long session ahead of us.” For the sake of both of us, suck up your pride, you mummy.

A mighty fine blush rises on Axiom’s cheeks. He glares at Syllable for a moment before speaking. “If I indeed were to know something about this ‘Chillburn’... and I were to tell you this something… what guarantees do I have that you will hold on to your end of the bargain?” His voice is thinned by pure rage.

“I have a signed form right here,” says Syllable and pulls a piece of paper from his saddlebag for Axiom to see. “If you have something worth knowing, you can have this right now.”

The professor reads the paper quickly, and grumbles something. “I could have you suspended, at the very least, for the this encounter alone already. Threatening a senior professor is a serious offense.”

Reg only chuckles at that, and puts the paper away. “And who would believe you? It’s no secret that you hate me, and I can easily have a friend or two testify that I spent the whole evening in some bar or whatever. Can you boast the same, Professor?”

Axiom’s look is a literal proof of the fact that an idiom certainly can’t kill anypony, for if it could, would Syllable just about explode right now. Still, the glare manages to make him flinch. Another moment goes by in silence.

“I swear to you, after this evening, if I ever see you again, in the School or otherwise, I shall have your head.” Axiom spits on the ground. “What do you want to know about that whore?”

Syllable’s jaw clenches. “I’ll let that last word slip this one time... but if you call her that again, our deal is over.”

A wicked grin stains Axiom’s face. “Oh… is that the name of the game you’re playing. How intriguing…”

“Just spit it out already,” says Reg. The old stallion’s eyes study Syllable with a renewed interest, and Reg doesn’t like the feeling one bit. “Start by telling me where she is,” he says.

“Oh, I will, if that’s what it takes to get you the hell out my School. Unfortunately I don’t know the current location of that… prostitute…”

“But you know where she used to live?”

Axiom smiles. “Conveniently, I do. You can have all her addresses I know. If you’re aim is to find her, though, they will do you no good.” Syllable tenses for a moment as the professor’s horn begins to glow, but he only produces a piece of paper and a pen from his suitcase, and begins to write down street names and numbers.

“How can you tell?” asks Reg. “Do you know for certain that she has left the city?”

Axiom finishes writing rest of the lines before answering. “I checked all of them during the first month of the year; they’re all empty or sold to new owners.” His grin is the most disgusting thing Syllable has ever seen. He takes the paper and tucks it into his saddleback without breaking eye contact with him.

“There are a few ways you can locate her though,” says the professor.

“Well…?”

“Hold on a minute… Why exactly do you want to find her? I know she has attributes that make her company most… alluring... but in the end, a mare is a mare, and once you’ve been inside one, you’ve pretty much covered them all.”

Keep on trying your luck, you ruin of a pony. Go on, see how much I can take. “My interest in her is not your concern.”

“Do you actually believe that you love her? Or that she might love you?” Axiom’s laugh is dry and filled with malice. “She knows no love! She never will! She can only corrupt, not foster, and she eats fools like you for breakfast.”

“It should be in your interest then to guide me to her as fast as possible, don’t you think?” Says Syllable with a chilly tone.

“Absolutely. Were I you, although I thank the Sun daily that I’m not, I’d start asking from the ponies who currently own the apartments.”

“What can they tell me?”

“Nothing. But they can lead you to the pony who can. From what I’ve been hearing, the mare left Canterlot in quite a hurry, for whatever reason. Anyhow, she couldn’t have sold the apartments without the help of some middlepony, and that middlepony might know where he is getting his instructions from.”

Reg makes a mental note and labels it as: “The Middlepony.” “Fine. What about the other way?”

“That one requires a bit more work but, seeing how you have been kicked out school now, I trust that you can find the time. A mare like Chillburn would never simply walk out of a city. She would have somepony transport her to whatever hellhole she has moved herself into. Find the coach driver, find the mare.”

Another mental note gets scratched inside Syllable's skull. “You have anything else to tell me?”

“Yes. You will fail. Whatever you do, whether you find her or not, you will fail. It’s in your nature, I can sense it, I have always sensed it. You will fail.” His smile dribbles bile.

Reg counters with cool contempt. “In any case, you yourself are already past the point of even getting to try.” After throwing his resignation at Axiom’s feet, he begins to back away, but doesn’t turn his back before he can disappear into the shadows. In the darkness, the professor stands alone, the chill of the night creeping inside his clothes and coat. He picks up the piece of paper, blows the dust of it, and neatly folds it into his suitcase.

He leaves the scene humming a happy tune.
***

The numerous beeswax candles fill the small apartment with soft light and sweet scent, not to mention the homely warmth. Despite the summer, nights can be cool for the inhabitants of Canterlot, who reside in the side of a mountain. But it’s not the candles alone that bring their heat into the household. On a mattress in the middle of the living room, two ponies radiate as if they were aflame themselves. A mare lies on her back as a stallion buries his head between her thighs. She moans every time his rough tongue slides inside her.

She cracks her eyes slightly to watch him sink his muzzle into her. Her lean body writhes and twists under the treatment, as if he could control her movements merely with his tongue. The mare opens her mouth as another deep moan travels through her throat, and arches her back so that she can push better with her hips. He lets her rub herself against his face, and draws in her scent in deep breaths. As he gives another quick lick to her clit, she screams in lust.

“Come here, love, come,” she says and smooths his short mane with her front hoof. “I want you deeper in me. Now.”

He opens his eyes while pulling back his tongue, sending another shiver down her spine. His muzzle is covered with her juices, and some of it dribbles on the carpet as he moves over to her. The mare realigns her hips better, and locks her hind legs around him as his tip brushes against her inner lips. They both move without hurry, calmly, enjoying of every second, of every ounce of pleasure that they can strip from each other. They are face to face now, with eyes closed, mouths devouring one another. Their hips push in unison, once, twice. Three times they manage to stay in chorus of swinging, but then their rhythm breaks as overriding pleasure replaces whatever was left of their consideration. From the collapse of the two bodies, a singularity of pure bliss emerges, one in flow and in feeling.

The mare sinks her teeth first into his shoulder, then into his neck, and finally she reaches for his right ear. Her tongue travels over his auricle, and past that deeper into him. The stallion moans and rams himself again and again into her, reaching deeper with every thrust until his balls become wet, too.

“I… I can’t hold much longer…” he says between the moans and panting. The squelching sounds are becoming more fervent.

“Take it easier, love… there’s no hurry…” her voice tries to sound soothing, but her own pleasure makes the effort difficult.

“I… I can’t... I’m gonna–” He loses it. Simultaneously his whole body tenses from hind legs to his neck, and his cock twitches inside her one last time before unloading a spray of seed, one after another, into her. The mare’s eyes tear open and for a moment, a disappointed scorn fills them. But as his limp body collapses on her, the sour look hides beneath her eyelids. For a while, the two bodies lay still on the mattress. A thick trickle of mixed fluids dribbels along her inner thigh.

“Lakey…” says the stallion quietly, his head resting against her mane. “I… I’m sor–”

“Don’t apologize,” says the mare. “At least not when you're still inside me.” Her voice strains to cover her annoyance, but Willow Fall notices it nonetheless, although he is not sure if he is supposed to. “Could you still… go on for a bit?” she whispers to his ear.

Fall swallows. “I could take some those herbs… I still have some left.”

The mare cringes. “Ugh, that plant makes your breath smell weird… And we don’t have anymore mint left to cover it up…” She sighs. “Never mind, then… Could you get off me?”

The disappointment in her voice makes his heart sink. He pulls free of her, and rolls onto his side while she stands up and goes to the bathroom. Fall lays on his side and watches her go, and punches himself mentally into the groin because he failed to pleasure her. He almost opens his mouth and offers his tongue to her again, but the magic is gone and anyhow, he knows that she only likes that as foreplay. His mood only grows darker when he hears her washing herself in the bathroom. She only does that right after sex when she wants to forget it.

After a while, the sounds in the other room stop and the mare walks back into the living room, where Fall is still laying. The candles throw shadows over both their faces. She sits down on a couch next to him. “Fall… I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m acting like a filly in her teens.” She lets her hoof caress his strong chest that heaves in rhythm of his breathing.

Fall stares at the ceiling. The dim light makes it appear to be farther away than is true. “No… I’d be mad too if you’d pull away from me before I was finished,” he says.

“Would you?” asks the mare, raising an eyebrow.

Fall shrugs on his back. “I don’t know, really. You’ve never failed to please me. I guess I could be a bit hurt.” He smiles faintly.

She lets a smile caress her lips, too. “It’s not that big of a deal, honestly. These things happen to all couples.” The mare’s brow furrows. “And if I recall correctly, this is the first time it happened to us.”

Fall keeps on staring at the ceiling.

“...is there something you’d like to share with me?” asks the mare after a while.

He sighs deep. “There is. But I don’t really know if you want to hear about it.”

Her hoof travels to his neck, and stops there. She can feel his strong muscles moving beneath the blue-grey coat. “It’s not about the School, then. You never refuse to complain about your assignments.”

“Not if they’re Axiom’s hoofwork, no.”

“You can tell me anything that bothers you, Fall. But I’m not forcing you.”

Celestia knows you could. Fall closes his eyes, and enjoys her gentle touch on his ear. “It’s about Reg.”

“Syllable? Did you have a fight with him?”

“In a way, yes. To be frank, we split.”

The mare blinks a few times. “Seriously? I thought you were the best of friends?”

Fall opens his eyes, and lifts himself up a bit, relaxing himself against the couch so that his head rests on her lap. “We have known each other for six years, but it feels more like twenty. He is like another brother to me.”

“When did you last see him?”

“About a week ago,” says Fall with a hollow voice.

She cringes, an empathetic look covering her face. “Ouch. That bad, is it? What happened?”

Fall quiets down for a while, and his eyes avoid hers. He is idly drawing circles on the floor with the tip of his hoof. “This might be a bit hard to explain… but there is this mare involved… but not in the way you might think.” At least I hope it’s not like you must think.

“Ah-h…”

Fall swallows, and tells her the whole story, starting from the Pre New Year Eve’s party at the School. He leaves out the bit where he himself gets involved with the mare, telling her that he separated from Reg before that, and tells the story as if he heard it from his friend afterwards. He tells her about the Gala and what Reg had told him happened there, and about the torment of the last six months that Syllable has faced. He tells her about the boxing match that took place a week ago, and how he hasn’t seen Reg since, not even on the courses they share together. She listens without interrupting, seizing her petting for the duration of the story. After he has finished, she says:

“How could you turn your back on him? In the state he’s in?”

Fall bites his lip, his eyes still averting her gaze. “It just happened, and later, the key dropped into my mailbox. That had been my last hope, I couldn’t believe he'd actually call my bluff.”

“You bluffed about splitting with your friend?!” The mare’s voice turns almost shrill.

Abruptly, Fall springs on all fours and turns towards the mare. “I had no idea what else to do! His eyes, you didn’t see his eyes! They were like cursed or something. Fevered. Famished.” His voice settles down slowly. “They weren’t his eyes. I had to go for a rabbit bunch.”

“A what?” asks the mare, raising an eyebrow.

Fall rolls his eyes. “It’s a boxing term. I had to fight dirty, I meant to say. I know it sounds horrible, but I panicked.”

The mare’s eyes go wide. “You? Panicked? I thought you didn’t even know the word!”

His head droops down. “But I do. He was talking of suicide, Lake. About hanging himself. And I couldn’t tell if he was joking. So I panicked.” His voice gets so quiet it almost disappears. “And now I lost my best friend.”

Honey Lake watches the stallion in front of her shriveling, almost withering away. It’s the first time she has seen him acting like this; it’s like watching a mountain topple.

“Look, Fall, maybe… maybe everything is not yet lost.” She feels like she should get closer to him, but somehow the sight of her trusted coltfriend crumbling just like that fills her with dread. It’s as if pure panic tried to invade her mind, and it's at that moment when she knows what Fall must have felt.

“But it is.” Falls voice is thinner than hair. “I visited his house the day after I got the letter. Empty, all empty. I asked the landlord but he knew nothing. I would ask his parents if they know where he is but they live far away, and I don’t know the address, even though I told Reg I did.” With a heavy thud, Fall falls on the mattress. “I have failed him.”

Lake opens her mouth, but can’t make out a single word. The desperation of Fall is so severe it’s starting to affect her, too. But there has to be a way, she thinks. There has to. There always is. She rubs her temple fervently, trying to kick some action to those lazy brain cells, but the shadow of hopelessness spreads like a weed. Her rubbing only succeeds in planting a seed of a headache into her.

Then a flicker of hope emerges from the mist. “Wait,” she says. “What did you say about that Professor? Axiom, was his name?”

“What?” mumbles Fall on the mattress.

“The Professor!” yells Lake. “You said that Reg would pay him a visit before you separated!”

“...to see if the old bugger knew where Chillburn went…” says Fall slowly as he raises his head. Suddenly, the light fill his eyes, too. But only for a second. “He would rather die than tell me anything.”

“And that is what marefriends like me are for,” says Lake. She answers Fall’s questioning look with a devious smile. “Let’s pay the good Professor a visit in the morning, shall we?”

***

It’s morning, and the Canterlot School of History and Linguistics is buzzing with ponies. Summer break ended a week ago, and corridors are now filled with freshcolts and fillies, ponies who have just made it through the School’s taxing entry exams. Like most new students in all planes and universes, they too seek comfort and security in large numbers, and although their behaviour is nothing short of natural, they still very aptly manage to block every corridor and hall in the building. Staff and senior students either try to guide them to the right rooms or simply fend them off like a flock of pigeons. Nonetheless, despite the occasional annoyance that they are causing for everypony, they are tolerated and helped to fit into their new and exciting environment by their betters. However, not all ponies think alike, as Professor Axiom so keenly demonstrates for the new ponies.

“Out of my way, you imbeciles!” he shouts and pushes through a group of five newcomers. One of them, a colt with yellow coat and blue eyes, in a showcase of simultaneously admirable courage and sincerity, apologies to the older stallion.

“Name! yells Axiom straight to the colt’s face. “Give me your name!”

“Ch-chirp T-tune, Pro-professor…” says the colt, his eyes wide and wild. The other four newcomers follow the scene with woeful confusion in their eyes.

“Tune… What a bloody stupid name…” The older stallion glares at the youth. “If you ever speak to me without my leave again, Tune, you’ll fly from this School faster than sound. Is that clear?”

Tune dares only to nod quickly in response. Axiom snorts at him and leaves the scene, banging shut his office door as he enters in. The four newcomers quickly gather around their friend, and leave the scene without even so much as whispering to each other before they’re absolutely out of earshot. They walk past Fall and Lake, who witnessed the whole scene around a corner.

Lake shudders. “Jeez… I thought your stories of him were mostly faked, but it seems to me now that you’ve been quite conservative. That professor is nuts!”

Fall looks at the fleeing newcomers, and just before they disappear into a staircase, a familiar recollection fills his mind; a picture of younger him and Reg fleeing from the mad professor’s wrath. A sad smile appears on his lips. “To be honest, I haven’t seen him that worked up for a while, either. He practically traumatized that lad just there.” Fall’s eyes return to Lakes. “I don’t think you should do this, Lakey. Not right now, at least.”

Lake purses her lips as she turns her eyes from Fall to the door around the corner. The dark wood is scratched and worn out on several places, most likely because of all the writings that have been wiped away from it during its existence. Another shudder travels through her. “I’m not going to lie; the plan seems a lot more susceptible now than it did yesternight.”

“Then let’s delay it. I swear, he is not that bad all the time. Mostly yes, but not everyday. One might even call him happy on the first day of every moon.”

Lake turns a questioning look on her coltfriend. “What happens on every first day of a moon?”

An uncharacteristically ironic smile stains Fall’s face. “Grades are announced.”

Lake cringes. “Oh my Celestia… How can they keep him here if he is actually like that?”

Fall shrugs. “It’s notoriously difficult to fire a member of the School’s staff, especially a senior member. Everypony loathes him, but as long as he doesn’t break the really important rules, like uses magic against other ponies, he is tucked safe behind the bureaucracy.” A warmer smile lights up his face. “Still, I hear he is going to retire at the end of the year, so there is that.”

Lake furrows her brow, and quiets down for a while. Finally she sighs. “I’m going to do it.”

Fall’s expression is a mixture of pride and anxiety. “I knew you would. You’re crazy and kind like that.” He kisses her lightly on the cheek. “Go on, then. And remember, if he gets too nasty, just leave. There is nothing he can do to stop you.”

Lake smiles bravely, and kisses him back on the lips. Her tongue gives a playful lick to his. “Don’t worry; I knew how to handle my dad and brothers when I was a little filly. I can handle one professor just as easily.” She smiles for one last time, and walks over the sinister door. Fall looks at her knocking it, and when a sharp voice inside orders her to come in, she disappears inside the lair of the beast. His eyes bury into the aged wood. Axiom. By Celestia, Luna, and Equestria I swear: If she comes out crying, I’m going to break that door and give your resign process a kickstart. He knows that he wouldn’t, not really, but the thought helps him cope with his restlessness.

***

Inside the office of Professor Axiom, Honey Lakey is crying helplessly. “...and that is why *sniff* I need to find Reg Syllable.”

Axiom studies the weeping mare over his table with a curious look. “So that you could have your vengeance upon him?”

“Yes!” shouts Lake, and the tears disappear as she angrily stomps her front hoof on the carpet. “He just ran off on me without even saying goodbye! That creep must pay for leaving me like that!” She clenches her jaw to look more angry.

Axiom smiles sympathetically at her show, resting his hooves on the great wooden table. Does he see through my act? thinks the mare suddenly. Did I overdo it? She keeps her stare nailed upon him, hoping that he is the first to flinch.

And he is. Axiom blinks a few times and leans over his table. “I am most sorry for your loss, dear miss Flower, although I must say that I’m by no means surprised to hear about your misfortune. I happen to be somewhat of an expert on Reg Syllable, having observed his life for six years now, and I can safely say that there never was a more hopeless case dropped onto my desk than him.”

You haven’t peeked at the mirror lately, then. “Please, you must help me set things right – that excuse of a coltfriend can’t be allowed get away with this.”

Axiom’s eyes narrow down. “I beg your pardon, miss Flower, but I ‘must’ do nothing.” A cold breeze travels in between the two ponies. “Besides,” continues the Professor, “you need not to bother yourself with a payback, I’m sure. Trust my word. Reg Syllable is going to get what he deserves, one way or another.” A nasty smile creeps on his lips.

Lake hesitates a bit. “Uhm, I wonder what you mean by that, Professor?”

Axiom ignores the question. “How did you get the idea that I, of all Syllables teachers, might know something about his current whereabouts?” He keeps on drilling his gaze into her mind, it feels to her.

“I already asked from a few others, and one of them told me that you knew where Reg is even when he himself doesn’t.” She shows her a sincere smile. “I thought that meant he was very close to you.”

The old stallion gives a short, dry laugh, and leans back in his chair. “A bit too close sometimes, I might add.” His eyes travel to a large cabinet that rests onto his left. She glances at the same direction and sees some papers spread on top of it. Axiom notices that, and his eyes jump back to her. “I think I have seen you before, miss Flower.”

Lake jumps a bit at the statement. “Oh? Really? Where would that be?”

“In the Angry Griffon. I eat there sometimes. You work there as a waitress, correct?”

“I… uhm… Yes, I do.” Lake tries desperately to remember if she has seen the Professor before, but she can’t recall his presence in the Griffon. That’s what you get for having the worst facial memory.

Axiom rests his chin on his hooves, apparently pondering something. “I must regrettably tell you that our dear friend Reg Syllable has… how should I put it… ran off for the greener fields?” The mare’s confused look incites another creepy smile from him. “He has another lover, miss Flower.”

Lake weaves a broken expression on her face. “No! It can’t be! He wouldn’t…” Tears begin to well up in her eyes again.

“I’m afraid it’s true. He told me himself, when we encountered a few days ago.”

A faint flicker travels past her eyes when she hears that. “Oh? You met him? Did… did he say where he was going?” Lake puts all the skill she has into her words, blinking at the same time with her big, wet eyes.

Axiom clears his throat. “He didn’t know that himself, which surely comes as no surprise to you. He ambushed me on the outskirts of the School, and told me he would resign.”

“He what?!” After seeing the professor’s questioning look, Lake quickly corrects herself: “I mean, that sounds so unlike him… The School is his life.”

“It’s not anymore,” says Axiom as he pulls a piece of paper from his drawer with his horn. “Here is the proof.” He floats the paper for the mare to read. She gasps when she sees the signature.

“So it’s true…” she says.

“And official, too,” says Axiom with a happy tone. Then he notices the mare’s raised eyebrow and coughs a few times. “It’s a loss for the School, no doubt. The colt did have some gifts, after all.”

Lake bites her lip as she tries to think another way to get the Professor to talk. He is acting way too nice for me. Either he tries to hit me or he is hiding something... perhaps both. “So, uhm… Do you know anything about this mare Reg was going after? Where she might live or something like that? If they ran off together…”

For a fraction of a second, Axiom’s eyes travel again to the cabinet and on the papers there, and Lake notices the slight anxiety in his eyes. “No, I have no knowledge whatsoever of her. I tried to ask about her when I met Syllable, as I was trying to convince him to stay. But his will was indomitable. There was nothing I could do to stop him.” A sad look covers his eyes as he puts Syllable's resignation form back into his drawer.

It seems that I’m not the only in here with a gift for acting. “So… there is no hope, then?” asks the mare. “No justice?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” says Axiom, his voice cheerful again. “The world has a way of straightening itself out in the end, after all.”

And you’re the living proof of that, right? “We can only hope.” Lake dries another faked tear of her cheek, and looks around the room with a minor interest shining in her eyes. “Do all the School’s professors have offices like this?”

Axiom follows the mare’s gaze as it travels around the room mostly covered with bookshelves. Only the cabinet and the great, heavy-built table seem to have something else than paper and books in them, but their insides are a mystery to the mare. The floor is covered by a thick rug made of wool, and on the right wall there is an oil painting of an old stallion unicorn who has similar looks to Axiom. The stallion is wearing a military uniform of some sort, and his stern eyes seem to follow Lake wherever she turns her head. Despite the painting, no personal items are visible, just pens, paper, an ink pot, and a few unlit candles. The curtains are open and the room is filled with sunlight, but still there is no dust to be seen anywhere, not even on the curtains.

“Most of the others are smaller, and few have as many books as I do,” answers Axiom, with a tiny bit of pride in his voice. “I’m the head of the History faculty, you see.”

The mare turns to study the painting better, making sure that he gets a good view of her rump. “Is that your father?” she asks after a while.

Axiom flinches and blinks his eyes off the mare’s hindquarters. “No, but my great grandfather, Gilded Mail.”

“He worked in the post office?”

Axiom smiles faintly. “Wrong again, although he did serve for a while as an communication officer. His last names refers to a type of armor, as is the custom with military personnel.”

“Ah-ha,” says the mare with a fascinated tone. “Was he a part of the Royal Guard?”

“In a way… but why is this of interest to you?”

“I'm just trying to get a grasp of you, Professor.” She smiles kindly, and winks at him. “You’re a mystical stallion, I find.”

Axiom seems a bit baffled by the notion. “Well I… have seen the world a bit, I can confess that. Perhaps some of that mystery has rubbed off on me.”

The mare takes a few steps closer to his desk, swaying her tail from side to side. Her smile turns a tad more playful as she bites her lip. “I may sound a bit demanding when I say this, but… don’t the School’s archives have a file on every student who has studied here?”

He tears his eyes off her tail and shakes his head a bit. “No, not exactly… the information is destroyed after five years of a student’s graduation… why you ask?”

“Well… Reg’s file might have information of where his parent’s live, right? I tried to get to see it earlier today, but the clerk said that I’m not authorized to see the files. So I thought… could you perhaps get that file for me?” She gives him her most pleading smile.

His face blushes slightly. “I, uhm… I suppose I could see to that… but of what interest do you have in his parents?”

The mare looks at him deep into the eyes. “He might’ve told them where he was fleeing with that slut. If there’s a chance that they know where Reg is, I’m going to check it.”

“You really do wish to make him pay, don’t you?” says Axiom, smirking. She nods slowly in response. He sighs theatrically. “Who am I to deny a lady of her vengeance? You shall have the necessary information at once. Would you like to come with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s wise. I might’ve caused a bit of a scene with the clerk.”

“I can only imagine. You can wait here.” With that, he stands on all fours and exits the office. She can hear him humming something through the door. Stallions… they’re all the same. Wiggle your tail for them a bit and they’re on cloud nine. The mare walks over the cabinet, and begins to study the papers there.

***

Fall keeps on checking behind the corridor every 30 seconds or so, his movements nervous and erratic. It was fifteen minutes ago when he left his office. What the hay is Lake doing in there? Did he tie her up or something? Why does he seemed so happy? The questions bounce in his mind only incite more questions. After ten more minutes, he sees Axiom returning, but this time he is not humming. The professor opens the office door and disappears inside. Minutes keep on piling on top of each other as Fall stares at the aged door, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t see through it. He shortly considers eavesdropping, but he knows from experience that the door is too thick for that.

After another five minutes, the door opens and Lake steps out with Axiom behind her. They’re both smiling. After exchanging a few words, Lake giggles girlishly and whispers something to his ear. The Professor blushes a bit. It’s then that Fall notices how painfully he himself is biting his lip. Finally, Lake leaves the Professor, who disappears behind his door. The mare walks casually to Fall, but before she can get behind the corner, Fall blurts: “How did it go?”

Lake frowns at him. “I’ll tell you in a minute. I just want to get as far from that office as possible. And get me a pen and paper from somewhere.”

Fall opens his mouth, but seizes his automatic question before it can make an idiot out of him. Instead, he stops a passing young mare and asks her for the items that Lake mentioned. “Sure thing,” says the mare happily, and reaches for her saddlebag. Soon Fall receives a pencil and a page of a notebook, which he hooves over to Lake.

She shakes her head. “You keep them and write down what I say.” Lake turns over the other mare. “Can we the pen, please? It’s important and we’re in kind of a hurry.”

“No problemo; I got plenty of those,” says the mare.

“Great, thanks!” says Lake to her. “Now let’s get going,” she continues, and starts to walk away with Fall behind her. They make it to the staircase before Lake speaks again.

“Okay, here it goes: Smith’s Road 31 A, Blueberry Street 4, Celestia’s Square 8.”

Fall scribbles the street addresses down as the paper floats in front of his face. After those, Lake names a list of company names, some of which Fall recognizes as transport firms. It’s not that easy to walk down stairs while writing, but Fall manages the task respectfully, although once he bumps into an elderly mare. “I’m terribly sorry,” he says to her as they get of the marble stairs. The old mare only shakes her head and continues on her way. “Will you now tell me what’s going on?” he asks Lake as they get into another corridor.

Lake tells him in detail what happened inside Axiom’s office, how she sent him away so that she could study the papers that clearly had something to do with Chillburn. “He had plenty of notes about her; photos, addresses, and some dates that I couldn’t say what they meant. It seems that she was more to him than just some company in the bed.”

A disbelieved expression masks Fall’s face. “Really? That’s… Wow.”

“What is it?”

Fall rolls his eyes. “I just find it surprising that the old demon could actually love somepony.”

A worried expression spreads on Lake’s face. “I didn’t say anything about love; I think he has stalked her. The pictures looked like they had been taken secretly, and he had these weird, random remarks spread all over his notes about her.”

“Do I want to know what they said?”

Lake shakes her head, and Fall can see a tiny speck of fear and disgust in those bright eyes. That’s what I thought, he thinks. Axiom, you’re one damned pony, that’s for sure. “So now that we have Chillburn’s addresses, what do we do with them? Reg told me that she had most likely left the city a while ago.”

“They’re the best lead we got. If we go check them out, perhaps we’ll get another.”

Or perhaps we’ll only end up chasing our own tails. “And why are these companies important?”

They’re almost in the lobby now, but a brake begun a few minutes ago and the corridors are filled with ponies, which slows down their progress. Lake settles herself behind Fall so that he can make way for both of them. “Axiom had headed them as ‘what CB might’ve used to travel’. That seemed a reason enough to memorize them.”

Fall pushes gently but insistently through the mass of bodies. “You really did make yourself useful back there.” Fall glances behind himself. “Are you sure that he didn’t suspect anything?”

Lake smiles confidently. “It was easy. It turns out I don’t need a stage to act convincingly. And a bit of tail swinging did no harm, either…”

Fall’s brow furrows. “I’m not sure that was completely necessary…”

“Well I think it was, and it’s done now so that’s that,” says Lake, her voice a bit hurt by Fall’s expression.

He sighs. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m grateful that you did this for me, Lake, I really am. Because of you I now have a chance to find Reg, however slim that is.”

As they walk side by side again, Lake moves next to him and plants a kiss on his neck. “You’re welcome, love. I’d do it all over again for you.”

Fall nuzzles his muzzle on her mane, and together they walk through the main doors. “There’s this one thing that bothers me slightly,” he says as sunshine greets them outside.

“Oh? What is it?”

“It’s nothing, really. Perhaps Axiom just forgot. He is old, after all.” Fall smiles at Lake’s questioning expression. “The School’s archives don’t have knowledge of our past; it’s an egalitarian thing. That past also includes our parents’ addresses, and Axiom should’ve know that.”

Lake ponders on that for half a second, and then ignores her doubts. “Yeah, he probably forgot that. Anyway, do you want to know what he keeps on his wall?”

“That painting? I’ve seen it plenty of times, believe me. There are theories about it, but nopony really knows who–”

“–It’s his great grandfather,” says Lake with a smile. Fall’s eyes go wide.

“How the hay did you–” he begins as the two disappear into the city. Professor Axiom, peeking behind the main doors, watches them go as long as he can, his eyes gleaming in the shadows. Finally, he closes the door with a thud.

After he has made it back to his office, he sits on his armchair and turns it so that he can see through the window. The sun shines straight to his face, but doesn’t feel it’s warmth. The birdsong coming from his windowsill reaches his ears, but he doesn’t hear the beauty of it. All that fits into his mind now is a recollection of a face, a laughing face. It’s laughing at him.

And he thinks: For my life, I will not let that happen to me again.

Never again.

His horn pulls a paper from his desk drawer. So much like Fall to send his whore to do his dirty work. Syllable at least had the balls to come face me himself. He studies the paper against the sun, and its shadow covers his face. It’s fortunate that I had the results of my little searching hid behind lock and key. Otherwise I would’ve had to blow that whore’s cover and ruin the game. But now we all get to play a bit; Fall, Syllable, Chillburn, and me. It’s too bad that our playfield shall be such an insignificant little village, but at least we can have a little more privacy that way. The paper, titled as ‘possible destination of CB’, has eleven village names written on it. Ten of those Axiom has already scratched over. His shadowed eyes drill into the last name with such an unnatural glee that the word becomes imprinted on the back of his skull.

The word is Ponyville.