Featherpen: “Can I just thank you for taking the time to have this interview with me?”

Iustita: “It’s not me you should be thanking, it should be Her Majesty for allowing this all to happen in the first place; but if you wish go right ahead. *gives a small giggle* But seriously, I’m here to answer any questions you may have… as long as it isn’t about that dreadful rumor about those supposed nzambi seen around some old manor that doesn’t exist.”

Featherpen: “Now… what is a nzambi? I keep on hearing talk that Betrayers use that.”

Iustita: “Oh it’s some zebra slang for an undead creature, and apparently some ridiculous ponies have said that the Newfoals are like the undead or something. *she scoffs* I’ll let you know my special stallion is a newfoal and despite his lack of a cutie mark, he acts like any regular old pony… but better. *she gives a smile and blushes thinking about him* Twilight Sparkle is right, you know. It’s amazing how much we can learn about how to be perfect ponies from newfoals.”

Featherpen: “Does he ever worry about your job here?”

Iustita: “Oh I wouldn’t say he’s worried; my dear Stallion is my Vice Warden New Bloom after all. He’d be with me at all times, and wouldn’t need to worry about my job in the slightest… though he might be, given how much he cares about me and the others of Equestria. In fact he’s more of a pony than my last husband ever was. *she chuckles again at some kind of inside joke* Besides, you just need to know how to treat Betrayers, and it’s all fine.”

Featherpen: “How do you treat them though?”

Iustita: “I must treat them like any other horrible criminal unfortunately. They simply must be punished for their actions by not allowing them the easy path of the mind healers. It’s rather difficult to heal them of humanity’s horrible taint sometimes, but they will eventually seek forgiveness from our goddess and want to be her little ponies once more.”

Featherpen: “How do you heal them though?”

Iustita: “We have them work hard under the sun. The harder they work allows for more clear thinking, away from the darkness humanity has infected them with. After that, they would slowly seek redemption that our Goddess can grant through spiritual means. If they are willing to do so, we will administer a series of trials that, if completed, will allow them to prove their worth on the battlefield against the monsters that have infected them, all for the betterment of pony kind. Though, like I said, some have been difficult unfortunately; and for the sake of anypony reading I will not say their names. Just know that they are the lowest ponies I’ve ever met and we’ve had to give up on some of them. Like I said, it’s all unfortunate; such a waste.”

Featherpen: “Agreed. Newfoal or natural, we’re all ponies under Celestia’s light. Why can’t they see that? It’s like they’re… defective. Or something.”

Iustita: “Hard to say, you know? Truth be told, one time I was having trouble myself once; my previous husband Swiftwing went to fight in the Crystal Wars… he never came back and I couldn’t seem to trust in Celestia for some reason because of it. I’m not sure why though. *she chuckles again* In fact you could say I once thought about leaving Equestria… but then one night it all came to me, a magnificent dream of her majesty that made me realize the truth. Ever since then I’ve been more than faithful to her than before. Yet for my poor twin Balanced Scale, I’m sad to say that she didn’t see the same thing until she was taken to a mind healer… I was very scared that she would’ve turned betrayer. Can you believe that? She was so much better when she came home though.”

Featherpen: “I can believe it. We’ve all lost somepony in this war… Amazing what the humans have driven us to, making us lose so many of our friends and family.

Iustita: “They only prolong the inevitable, so why can’t they be more willing like that one human mare… what was her name? Reit-something? I hope sometime in the future she’ll join our magnificent herd like some many others have. Hopefully she’ll be as wonderful as the late Catseye was.”

Featherpen: “It’s amazing just how much Newfoals can learn to be better ponies. Tell me one thing, though - is it true that you experiment with potion variants at your prison?”

Iustita: “Well, I can’t really say that we do much experimentation with the potion - although we have been visited regularly by the Queen’s student Twilight Sparkle, and what she does in the medical facility is a business that only the Element of Magic and the Queen have any right to know of; not even I am aware what she does down there… but I hope it will allow for a better method than having to throw the potion at those humans. Maybe like those potion clouds, that was innovative for the Pegasi. I have so many prisoners making vials - I know there are so many we could imply, but we need those vials so very much. They don’t have much range.”

Featherpen: “Well, whatever advances you make, I hope that they better all ponykind.”

Iustita: “Myself as well, for the greater herd that is Equestria.”

Featherpen: “Well, time’s running short. Any final words you’d like to say?”

Iustita: “…I just want everypony to know that I am so blessed by Her Grace to have this position, even more elevated despite originally being just a mere lowly guard; although perhaps she’d know I’ve been so faithful to her and all of the Solar Empire. I promise on my word that I will not let her down and will make sure that any troublemakers, undesirables or TRAITORS will be given due processing for their transgressions against our wonderful society. I say this to all and any that read our interview, natural born like ourselves and newfoals like my stallion and, the filly I’m sponsoring, Lavender Dreams. I swear this as both my oath and as my word in the name of our wonderful goddess, all hail Queen Celestia and her glorious sun.”

An interview with Iustita, the (at the time of the interview) recently named Head Warden of the prisoner’s camp north of the Crystal Empire.

The next morning, Inkwell started to wake up to see some guards at their cell door; probably here for Rockwell or-

“Get up!” The Guard ordered, banging on the cell door with a metal club, forcing Rockwell to open his eyes up and caused Inkwell to wince; yup, it was time for the morning line-up, a truly dreaded thing that would make anypony wish it wasn’t one of those mornings.

The cell door was then unlocked and the Guard’s compatriots forcibly entered the cell, dragging Rockwell out of his cot and Inkwell getting lifted out via telekinesis. Since Inkwell woke up when they got to their cell, he didn’t need to get forced out…

Rockwell, on the other hoof, not so much.

All Inkwell could do was watch as his cellmate was getting the tar beaten out of him by the Guards to force him awake. One of them was probably a newfoal too, given the how the look on its face was of somewhat sadistic glee.

Eventually, both of them (and other prisoners) were outside standing in a straight line; Rockwell and Inkwell were near the end of the left side of the line… however Inkwell couldn’t help but look at his cellmate given as to how things were last night. Maybe the Warden knew something about it.

He watched the warden approach the line. She was clad in a warm uniform (probably made by Rarity), her coat a creamy white and a mane of platinum. She was a unicorn by the name of Iustita. Her steel grey eyes scanned the line up of prisoners as she was flanked by a pegasus stallion on her left, clad in a uniform similar to hers, and an Earth Pony stallion on her right wearing a heavy looking body armor and iron mask.

She went down the line, scanning everyone with scrutiny. At the right end, she took one look at a griffon prisoner and said, “Medical, temporary; his wing is mislocated.”

Without hesitation, the two guards forcibly dragged the griffon off; his cries to the contrary and pleading were either unheard, or just weren’t given any thought by the mare.

She came to the next one: a unicorn mare that had blood leaking from her nose and an empty look to her eyes.

Iustita smiled and said, “Mental evaluation; she might be ready.”

Unlike the griffon, the mare was being… escorted by the guards instead of being forcibly dragged away.

One by one, Warden Iustita would inspect the prisoners. Any creature that received medical would be dragged off screaming, begging or both. Some ponies (and about two Zebras) who usually had blood coming out of their noses and didn’t say anything would be sentenced to mental evaluation… which to Inkwell must’ve meant that they were probably braindead or their minds were broken so that the mind healers would be able to reshape them into becoming like newfoals themselves. Besides that, there was the hard labor and they’d stay… which was really the lesser of two evils in this case.

As brutal and taxing as mining for crystals and raw materials was, he would still rather keep his own mind for long as he could, instead of killing himself by submitting himself to mental magic. No. Not killing. That’d be worse than death.

Eventually she got to Rockwell, and Inkwell couldn’t help but notice the glare she gave the cranky older stallion. Was she aware of what happened last night after all? Or did they have a history? Maybe one of the crazy rumors about Rockwell’s incarceration was true… though the one about him helping the other Princesses out of the Empire still seemed rather unlikely to Inkwell.

His bloodshot eyes met her steel grey glare, and in a surprisingly jovial (but still clearly sarcastic tone), Rockwell asked, “Good morning, Warden. How’s your nzambi of a sex slave doin’?”

Warden Iustita’s face became red with anger and indignation. Using her telekinesis, she hit Rockwell with a baton, knocking him down like a domino with two strikes from it.

“You filthy, mud-loving numbskull of a pig!” she yelled at Rockwell, “I wish you’d be eligible for full-time medical for that filthy mind of yours!” Iustita ranted at the earth pony.

She stops her rant short however, sighing, “But, Twilight Sparkle has stated repeatedly that I cannot have this luxury; pity that I must go through this ordeal every time with you. Hard labor; cart pulling and crystal transportation.” With that she turned and left Rockwell there to lay on the ground.

Unfortunately for Inkwell, the Warden was looking right at him; it was his turn now. She started to study him; she leaned in and whispered into his ear, “I know you’re hiding something, I know who you are, Inkwell…”

Hearing her say his name and identifying him made Inkwell start to sweat a bit. She continued, “And I know you’re a traitor. Mark my words: no creature in my prison will keep any secrets from me.”

She then pulled back and simply said, “Hard labor; give him the refining task.”

Iustita then turned and began to leave, her two bodyguards following suit behind her. Inkwell soon was dragged by a guard towards a piece of equipment that serviced to refine the crystals that had been mined.

He then had to get to work.

The bell rang, signalling that it was mealtime for the prisoners. Inkwell sighed with relief, his horn aching from helping to operate the machine. He walked towards the cafeteria to get his lunch… although it could hardly be considered food. It was mainly made of scraps of old vegetables, fruits and probably grass and leaves, all mashed together into a chunky slop.

He wouldn’t be shocked if newfoals still had less to eat than this. Unlike natural-borns, newfoals were expendable in the extreme. Oh well, even if they all died tomorrow, there'd still another batch of newfoals to take our place. C'est la vie…

Inkwell looked to see that Rockwell was eating alone at a table in the corner. An idea came to the young stallion. Maybe now was the best time to confront him about last night.

Gathering his courage, Inkwell lifted his tray with his telekinesis and walked over to the table, taking a seat across from Rockwell.

“What do you want, kid?” Rockwell growled with irritation, the injuries the Warden had caused very much visible.

“I… I want to talk,” Inkwell replied before leaning in to whisper carefully, “I saw what you did last night.”

Rockwell stopped cold, and swiftly looked around the cafeteria before leaning in and replying “Say what?”

The tone of the old stallion’s voice, mixed with the dark glare and hard-clenched teeth, gave the unicorn the urge to wet himself.

He pulled himself together, and making sure to keep quiet, he reiterated, “I saw what you did last night. You walked out of the cell, tried to lift a pillar, and then vomited that black gunk.”

“I have no bucking idea what you’re talking about,” Rockwell snorted. “You were asleep, dreaming something that can’t happen. Bucking Pinhead.”

Inkwell, however, stood his ground and pressed onward, “No, I wasn’t dreaming. I know what I saw, and I saw you trying to move that pillar. You know it and I know it.”

“It. Was. A. Dream,” Rockwell growled through clenched teeth. “And even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t trust you anywhere near enough to know about it.”

Inkwell tried to persuade him. “But-”

Rockwell cut him off, “You listen well, kiddo, and you listen good: if you know what's best for you, then keep your head down and don’t say a bucking word about anything outside of it being a dream. Because we both know that if you breathe a word of it, Iustita is gonna be the least of your problems.”

“There may or may not be things going on in this prison. I know you must have come to that belief by now,” he finishes.

Inkwell paused for a minute. It was pretty clear from Rockwell’s tone of voice he was implying something. Normally he’d laugh, but he’d learned a few days ago that he was the bad guy in all this, having happily called for the destruction of an entire species, and that newfoals were lobotomized abominations. So why not?

“I can accept that,” he replies

“These things,” Rockwell began, starting to leave the table “which may or may not exist, are perhaps best left… unknown with prying ears around and eyes watching.”

With that Rockwell left, not even taking a bite of his lunch and heading outside; leaving Inkwell to further contemplate things.

After lunch, thankfully, the prisoners were allowed time to be amongst themselves; for Inkwell however, he was spying on his cellmate again.

This time he was talking to a pegasus mare with a yellow coat, a silver mane and tail. Inkwell shivered at how rough she looked; her coat looked dirty and patchy, her mane and tail were chopped short, there were scars all over her body and her wings looked mutilated with several feathers looking like they’d been ripped out and clipped. They were speaking in hushed tones and voices so that no pony could hear them… but Inkwell was a curious sort and a reporter at heart, so he listened closely to get a scoop.

“What do you mean he saw you?!” the mare hissed with shock. “Rockwell, if he’s as weak as you said he is, then everything we’re working for will be-”

“It won’t be,” Rockwell cut her off, his voice reassuring. “The colt may be a naive fool, but he’s not a hopeless case. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

It was obvious they were talking about him, but what were they talking about specifically? Were they planning something after all?

“That bile is almost out of my system,” he told her. “It’s only a matter of time until I can do my tricks again, it’ll work… for Luna’s sake, it will work.”

Inkwell knew it was best to stick to the shadows right now. Despite his nature, and being extraordinarily tempted to converse with them… they both seemed rather dangerous. This was, perhaps, the worst time to talk to somepony.

On top of that, well... he was just afraid.

They were clearly planning something by this point. And this seemed like the worst place he could reveal it. Somepony could hear them.

Almost as if on cue… the mare narrows her eyes and whispers, “Somepony is listening in.”

“I think the colt is smart enough to keep his head down and his trap shut for now… even if he is a pinhead.” Rockwell sighed, not even turning around to acknowledge his young unicorn cellmate. “Isn’t that right, Inkwell?”

Inkwell stifled a gasp, trying (and failing) to slip away quietly. It was futile, so he trotted towards them, eyes downcast. They caught him, so there was no point to denying he was eavesdropping.

“How did you know?” he asked them.

“You have a… particular tread,” Rockwell replied. “Now let’s get one thing straight, kiddo: you did not hear anything.”

“But-”

“We have been talking about the culinary values of the prison’s home-brew,” Rockwell interrupted. “And nothing else. You know that, right?”

Inkwell looked at him for a moment, wondering what they were actually talking about, but he shook it off. They clearly didn’t want to know. “Can I… join in on this conversation?” he asked.

“Only if you can keep your voice silent,” the mare growled, “and, if you can write the truth about what no one else can see about the Elements.”

Inkwell could see the hard look in her light violet eyes, a look that spoke of someone who had seen way too many horrible things in a short amount of time. Her cutie mark was a of a stylized cloud in the shape of a musical note.

“You are a chronicler, can you do that?” she asked again in a cryptic fashion.

It soon occurred to Inkwell that she was asking if he knew something… something about the Elements of Harmony.

“What do you need me to write?”

“... You are way too good at making others speak outta turn,” Rockwell sighed, silencing them both with a glare. “We can’t explain this here. Or anywhere. They could be listening to us here - no, we need somewhere more private for that plan.”

“But then why are you talking about it here?”

“They wouldn’t look for us here,” Rockwell explained. “We move around a lot.” He looked at the mare. “I know there are big plans, but they can wait.”

He then turned to Inkwell and asked, “Just one question - you’re beyond the point of thinking you can reason with Celestia, right?”

Inkwell nodded. “Yeah, newfoals,” he said simply.

Rockwell got a look of murder in his eyes while the mare shuddered uncomfortably at the mention of those slave-corpses.

“Besides those things… I can feel that you have met them… that you saw they weren’t what they should be; that something is very seriously off with them, like we did. Can you see the truth?” the mare asked cryptically.

What truth was she talking about?

“Storm, that’s enough,” Rockwell ordered. “He’s young and doesn’t know what we know.” He then turned to Inkwell and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “They’re going to start asking you questions now, they think you’re involved. If you want to hear the truth and know about us… then keep your head down and wait.”

With that, the two walked away from the young unicorn, but it left him more confused than he would of wanted.

After more time has passed, Inkwell was trying to head back to his cell; his head was aching from the strenuous task of working the refinement machine. By now it was purely nighttime, probably meant that it was past 11… or something. Must be time to sleep.

He stops however, seeing two guards dragging away his cellmate. Rockwell was now sporting bruises and had been beaten something rather fierce. Whatever the guards intention was… Inkwell didn’t want to know and just did what Rockwell had told him earlier; he kept his head down and said nothing as he entered his cell.

He had been told to keep quiet, and by… by Luna, he was going to stay quiet.

What in Tartarus were those two planning anyway? A prison break? A… conspiracy? Some kind of exposé? He hoped it wasn’t an exposé. Equestrian presses were rather restricted nowadays. And judging by Berry Punch’s reaction when he revealed the truth of the newfoals, it was extremely unlikely that anypony in Equestria would care, much less believe it.

He sincerely hoped Berry Punch hadn’t always been like that.

They’d probably praise Celestia, claiming that the brainwashing (or as the insistent terminology went, “mind healing”) was necessary. Even as they became more and more newfoal-like themselves, to the point that anyone who could disagree with Celestia would be seen as insane.

As he lie down in his lumpy cot which reeked of sweat, dirt and mildew, Inkwell found that there was something in his pillow; using his magic to reach inside, Inkwell saw that there was some kind of orange crystal in it along with a notebook, an ink bottle and a quill.

On the notebook’s back, there was an inscription that reads, “Pinhead; this crystal contains information that you need to witness. You need to smash it once you’re done to keep it from falling into the wrong hooves. - Rockwell”

After finishing the note, Inkwell focused on the glowing orange crystal instead… what was he supposed to do? Touch his horn to it or something?

However, at the moment he let his magic flow into the crystal, Inkwell realized what it was; somehow Rockwell got his hooves on a memory crystal.

But how? Ensorcelling crystals was prohibitively expensive, ponies with the Mark for that were incredibly rare, and most importantly, how’d it get here?

‘Oh, buck,’ he thought, before he uncontrollably passed out and found himself no longer lying on his cot, but somehow was now in a field, just at the edge of an unfamiliar mountain range; a cold gust of wind blew through his coat as he managed to pull himself to stand up.

‘Where am I? What is this?’ He thought, looking around.

Author's Notes:

Well, there goes that; the second chapter of the story. Here’s hoping everyone enjoyed this installment and please keep in mind that the interview at the beginning of the chapter is there to both help introduce Iustita and be contradicted in the next scene by showing how things "REALLY" happen. Please leave any comments besides about TCB!Sunset Shimmer, feedback is appreciated. Until next time everyone!