To the desk of the “Equine Inquirer”,

Thank you for paying attention to my lead, I don’t really appreciate the choice of journalist you sent on the story, but if it’s any consolation I thank you for keeping my identity a secret. I have another lead, that contradicts your investigations: all the remaining Elements of Harmony, and the local group of punks that call themselves “The Crusaders” have been rounded up and supposedly went to Canterlot to ‘Check on Twilight', despite having full time jobs, and in the case of the Crusaders, school to attend to. When they returned they seemed a bit distant, and refused to talk much about what happened, and the Crusaders’ activities have been comparatively limited as well. The biggest damnation of your shoddy investigative skills, or some sort of long term plan on part of the Kingdom, is that the Element of Laughter is amiss and the others only state that she ‘chose to stay behind', or ‘keeping Twilight company'. I know that mare, and unlike Twilight she is completely and utterly invested in the well-being and happiness of the town, so her staying behind in the capital, which is unusual of her, is unheard! Please check this out even further.

A less invested subscriber,
Roseluck

Journal Entry #0441

I’ve noticed that there has been a pony watching me since that article came out, unicorn mare, white coat, bluish curved mane, tail unseen. Never got to identify her cutie mark, seemed to be one of those darn star things that permeate the butts of the servants of the state. She’s been around mostly at twilight and dusk hours, when the higher machinations are at their strongest and when their mask, the state, is at its weakest. It's the time when they have the least limitations to accomplishing what they desire, but also have the smallest roster of pawns available to them. If anything is to be said about those times, it’s to be careful of those who you’re unfamiliar with, as they can only act through their pony agents embedded in society rather than the rule of law or the manipulation of noble elements. I’ve seen her out of the corner of my eye, often in an alley or on a rooftop, maybe my age is catching up with me, but I’m near certain it’s the same pony, and I don’t know anypony who looks like her, except a passing resemblance to the Snow Cone Mare who repeatedly blocks the entrance to the Inquirer’s building every Summer Sun Celebration, of which I’m pretty sure I’ve memorized the jingle that damn cart plays after years of patient and constant interference with the institution that I try to use to educate the sheep with.

If the higher machinations want to make sure that I’m in my place, this indirect method of letting me know that there’s more to the story than what I’ve picked up so far is an excellent way of making sure that I keep digging. And, if that’s what they want, fine, I’ll play their game.

☵☵☵☵☵☵☵NOTICE☵☵☵☵☵☵☵

Stories Open to Journalists (order of priority)

Owlbears, Fleur de Lis’ hidden past: A member of Fleur’s infamously large bag-carrying division has stated that he overheard that Fleur has a history of affiliation with and raising by supposedly non-existent Owlbear communities in the western forests. She is paid quite handsomely to keep the information on the locations of their allegedly private machine factories a secret. The investigator assigned to this case will be given a long term wilderness survival pack, and a polygraph kit along with the address of Fleur’s supposed parents in Lutezia. To Be Taken

Colt named Herostratus gains Cutie Mark for Burning a Fire Temple, How To Prevent Your Foal from Finding Talent in Crime: While this is a commonly reprinted article, and source of constant parodies nowadays, it is still something that is read. An investigator is needed to head out and interview the colt responsible for that act and the officer who arrested him in order to fill in the blanks needed to keep it relevant in the eyes of the reader base. To Be Taken

Elements of Harmony being slowly relocated to Canterlot?: The entire subscriber population of Ponyville wrote in with a follow-up lead, although Screwy Words is the default assignment, a backup journalist is needed should he find himself in the situations he’s known to get involved in when we let him investigate something unsupervised. We love barely tolerate you, Screwy Words! The backup journalist will be given all of the notes taken thus far on the case, and an increase in pay due to the increased security and paranoia present at the site of investigation. Taken

Race Tensions in Appaloosa?: No lead on this one, just an idea propped up by a journalist in the staff room after he lamented about the alleged rudeness of the integrated Buffalos there. While seemingly dishonorable and audience-alienating, it may be a good way to gain a new, article-hungry audience, now that the Litalian magazine "The Defense of the Race" has gone bankrupt. Journalist undertaking this will be provided with a proper body armor, a train ticket to the border, and a Blackhoof-Equestrian bilingual dictionary. Taken with the strength of hundreds of boiling Suns!

Journal Entry #0446

The mare upstairs didn’t even give me an option this time, I’m doing a follow-up article, lest we lose our entire subscribership in Ponyville (which I checked the records and determined the number of subscribers in that boondock is a grand total of 1, and she seems to be a florist of some sort). At this point I don’t even care about the number of subscribers, this is the first time I’ve noticed that the higher machinations and I are working towards the same goal. I don’t know what’s going on, beyond hoofpainting, foal games and ABCs, but if I get to see an agent on my tail long after I’ve given up hope of uncovering something deep, that’s a sign from some sort of higher power, maybe even one that actually cares about us, wee little ponies, beyond tax revenue and servitude.

Supposedly the ‘Element of Laughter’ has also been taken hostage and other parts in the community, including some local criminal elements, are stating that it was of her own free will, despite that town being her life. I don’t know any of the characters personally, but a brief jaunt to the library saw HER on the way there told me that she was a chef and community organizer, with a history of well-intentioned misdemeanors and volunteer work. She sounded like the type of mare I’d get along with, had I had few less decades and kilos weighing me down.

I didn’t miss the commute, but, given the things that happen when I don’t look at that household, it might be the case that I can be enough in shape to the point where the years don’t make too much of a difference. I have too much extra ‘baggage’ from laying around for years and trying my hoof at the ‘Juice Reviews’ ' we have to look forward to, if I don’t manage to rescue the institution with this article.

Journal Entry #0447

I hate the need to be discrete about this whole affair, making contact with sources before sunrise, trailing ponies, and lying through my teeth. It makes me feel like I’m part of the higher machinations myself, but the danger inherent in going against them requires remaining hidden… well, given that they’re almost certainly watching me, it means that being discrete is preventing them from seeing me as a threat to be eliminated. After all, a cockroach on your kitchen floor is different than a manticore in bed with your daughter.

I was thinking on my walk to the residence, starlight overhead, whether this counts as a new investigation entirely or just a continuation of the previous one. If it’s the latter then it makes sense that I continue where I left off, but if it’s the former it would make the most sense to reframe what I’m looking for. It was almost moonset by the time I started to smell the fine aroma of Sedula’s baking.

I did get a friendly surprise as I was greeted by Sedula standing outside the front-door: she offered to let me inside for a longer than usual chat and some coffee, as we both needed it. She agreed to let me write down what we chatted about in my notebook, although it was mostly idle banter, it also did include valuable information on the current situation… I didn’t like what I heard.

The conversation was cut short by Sedula, but what little information I did get pointed towards the punishment being a fair bit more... extraneous than I thought previously. Apparently, the bastards aren’t fine with just putting a spear to the back of a mother’s head. They decided that it was best to make her genuinely believe in the punishment, or possibly the spear isn’t back to Velvet’s head, Night Light is supposedly ‘hard to reach’… which point at him being used as collateral. A soul-mate in harm’s way can make one a sudden master thespian in my experience. No certain answers as of yet, due to the conversation forcibly switching to family and work-related topics, which is frustrating, but I can understand Sedula’s desire to have a bit of reprieve from the higher machinations, or more likely, just the state. in this instance, pushing her between a rock and a hard place of her duty to the household and her love of the occupants. She said that with work she felt that she was just going through the motions, better to be stoic and hope it all washes over. The ability of the mare to persevere and follow through with bizarre commands is a great compliment on both her character and her ability to know when she’s being used.

About bizarre commands, Sedula did give me a request for me to do some investigation for her, she wanted to know what this ‘medicine’ as Velvet calls it was. It was supposedly to keep her ‘little fillies' regular, but Sedula wanted more information, if the current prisoners of the state were being poisoned, I saw no reason why I couldn’t count this as an immensely valuable lead.

She didn’t know where it came from, but her description of it made it sound like either a brown powder with some medicinal properties or white medicine tablets, and was politely asked if I could go to somepony who might know what it was… which while I accepted her request. I must state that, at the time, I didn’t know of anyone who could educate me based on such minute details. My follow-up question of where Velvet gets the drugs was answered with ignorance, but she affirmed that she went out recently for buy it.

While I did leave the home once activity was audible from upstairs I didn’t leave the premises, because if Velvet picked up a new package of drugs recently, then I might be able to find remains in their trash bins. I was lucky that I didn’t think that Velvet (or others) would’ve thought that the trash was too open of a place for such intelligence. Although part of me wishes that I didn’t find what I did, another is thankful that I didn’t have to physically touch the stuff, magical envelopment and feedback was bad enough as it was.

The bins weren’t too bad in of themselves, sure, there were more of them than the usual, but normally when searching through what society deems waste I search through a sea that uses the bin as more of a focal point. Of course, what society deems as waste is a different matter entirely than what the equine form deems as waste. The search through the bins for some sort of clue on what drug Velvet used brought to light what is best described as a wide variety of foal products, far too large than any foal could handle but seemingly adult use and seemingly used already. There were soiled disposable diapers, large fleece blankets that had choke-up and shards working as accents to chewed-through holes, toys and a cardboard book clearly broken out of frustration, and too many jars of what could be barely called food for three-year olds, much less adults.

At least, thanks to an empty can of this medicine called "Cristofinocchiax," now I know I need to go look up what “Ricinus populis maleficus” is.

VVVVVVVVV

Me: You’re certain that it’s going to fine? Nopony’s going to barge in here while we’re talking?

Sed: It’s the weekend Screw, everypony who wants to is sleeping in.

Me: Is there anypony who doesn’t want to sleep in?

Sed flips a coin

Sed: Pinkie are you there? she motions for me to be silent, and her ears are searching in all directions for a sound That would be no, at least for today.

Me: The Element of Laughter is here too?

Sed: Not to my knowledge, but Pinkie Pie is here, and she certainly takes joy in things which nopony in their right mind finds even remotely joyous… which seems to be just me. Maybe I’m the only one that’s out of my head, that would explain why I’m seeing a stallion which I normally just see on Nay ’77.

Me: First, That is indeed the Element of Laughter’s name. Also, I’m certainly grayer and tubbier than I was then. She doesn’t respond Out of their right mind? Care to elaborate on that?

Sed: Well, Twilight is the same as ever, mostly isolated in her own head. Velvet is delu. And Pinkie Pie just seems to find joy in entertaining Velvet’s delusions.

Me: Velvet, she previously told me that she had two children, 3 and 7, respectively. Does that sound familiar?

Sed: sigh and nods I don’t want to talk about this right now, I have to put up with it all day, these mornings, when Luna’s blessing still graces the sky, are the time which I get to be away from that.

Me: I can respect that, at least this once, you’ll have to tell me eventually or I’m going to have to find some other way.

Sed: Such as?

Me: I’m pretty sure that I can always just talk with Night Light about this, and, if that doesn’t work, I can always try to use my guard contacts to talk with the High Captain.

Sed: Good luck with either of those! Shining had enough of his mother’s interests after the weekend he stayed over and Night Light is going to be hard for you to reach for a while. Now stop writing an_____ . . . . .

VVVVVVVVV

Journal Entry #0448

I arrived too late and the library was closed, I decided to rest on a bench and rest after the cross-town march. The sun was slowly descending past the horizon so that the scheduled time for sleep, dreams, and rougery could commence. The light drizzle that seemed to qualify as "rain" to the local pegasi served as a small comfort against the backdrop of sheer ignorance of what I was up against. Me and those pegasi serving Canterlot's skies were in a similar boat: the local weather teams were seemingly too small for organize the weather in the unicorn city half-heartedly, and I was going against the higher machinations on a front which I was also ill-equipped to be fighting. Twilight Sparkle. Pinkie Pie. Those were the names of the souls branded for containment and isolation by the higher machinations. The state obliged to torture the living relics for its master like any other loyal servant.

The pony watching at first revealed nothing more than the citizens going through their lives: foals playing, couples on their way to romance, adults hustling to attend their aging parents after a long day at work, and the senior citizens telling the foals to shut down everything and go home. I eventually saw the mystery mare out of the corner of my eye, trotting to one street corner and back to other end. She either was new to the job of shadowing ponies or they wanted me to notice her for reasons unknown.

I don’t know whether the purpose of getting me to see that young star-spangled flank was to get me to just be definitely aware of her but there were also decent odds that it they had some sort of plan if I chose to try to get her attention. In the interest of killing a cat, I hailed her and motioned her over on the pretense of helping a lost mare find her way. I wish I had the courage to write down what our conversation while it was happening, but the primary details I remember was that she was told to say her name was Lore Lay, that she was familiar with my clever work and that we had mutual interests. I never let on to the fact that my education was better than what the machinations thought, and that this poor attempt at flattery was a good tip-off to the femme-fatale’s alleged real goal. I did tell her she was welcome to further interact with me; she just needed to schedule an appointment with me via the main offices of the newspaper. Despite her earlier admittance on needing help finding something, after the conversation her mind seemed to know that the corner street leading downtown was the correct path.

I achieved a small victory in surviving a brush with the higher machinations, if I could feign the ignorance of the way the world really worked, then I could potentially get more out of their agent then they’d otherwise want. Although having a living and breathing agent to interact with was potentially a few marks against my long-term survival.

NNNNMMMMMMNNNNN

Ricinus populis maleficus

Most commonly found in the wild around Fillydelphia, but supposed to have originated near Maretonia, it has been, until recently, one of the most resilient and insidious crop weeds. This shrub's leaves are very similar to the ones of a young willow, but its fruits are said to resemble horseshoes and to smell very strong of something akin to natron when the fruits are ripe. The seeds are burred and often are considered a nuisance to residents due to their magical resistance and physical resiliency. Its uses, detailed below, have been discovered only around three decades ago.

This plant is not safe for grazing: while useful when properly processed to cure constipation and inflammation of joints, if consumed wholesale or used carelessly it can induce diarrhea, nausea, hallucinations, disorientation, and, in extreme cases, seizures.

NNNNMMMMMMNNNNN

Journal Entry #0449

The knowledge that Velvet was using pulverized shitting plants from Fillydelphia, in combination with previous evidence just exacerbates my feelings of pity for the hostages. They are supposed to be the physical incarnations of the societal ideal of harmony, and yet the state is forcing them to shit themselves. Real harmonious, certainly better when you know that all the other Elements and a minor gang of ne’er-do-wells know what awaits them, if they go too far out of line from what the higher machinations want them to do. If you mess around with the state very badly, then you get an ironic ‘punishment’ on part of our ruler White Cuddle Mare Rainbow Mane. If you mess with the higher machinations you’ll normally just disappear, but, when you’re as important as the Elements of Harmony (the ne’er-do-wells, I'm sure of it, have a place in their plans as well) to their plans messing up will result in you being contained in a place where you’ll be literally babied and mentally starved until the only thing you can do for greater society is wearing a necklace that shoots rainbows.

Said rainbows are powerful enough to defeat abominations from beyond the higher spheres, and also reincorporate previously-rebellious elements into their fold, so maybe leaving the ones who can activate them in a safe place is an excellent idea… but taking their free will, whether through fear or through torture, is inexcusable.

I was going to write about today’s adventures, but that can wait until tomorrow, this topic depresses me far too much to think about the possibility of progress on this case.

⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆

Page 5 CANTERLOT: In addition to being treated a Kindergarten student by the state, it is apparent through our investigative efforts that the Element of Magic, Twilight Sparkle, has also been forced to be treated as a foal at her location of detainment. There is also evidence that the local authorities have at least allowed her to have a friend of her choosing as a reminder of home for an unknown duration of time.

The methodology of the law enforcement system is unknown and kept secret, our source reports the use of foal’s food, toys, games, and garments as methods of punishment. Although this punishment may seem strange or very lenient on the causer of the magically induced riots, our source reports that it’s actually appearing to be possibly too effective, to levels approaching torture in their words.

It’s unknown what the full extent of the punishment is at this time, due to the limited time scale through which the investigator assigned to the case can work with a family under house arrest. They do apologize on behalf of the Inquirer’s subscriber base on the lack of firm details surrounding the case, but state that the government’s repeated interferences are slowing down the progress that would otherwise be made.

⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆

Journal Entry #0450

I previously wrote on writing about yesterday’s adventures, because past me is an dolt who doesn’t recognize that the entire purpose of this journal is to record the day's discoveries and mindset as they’re fresh on the mind, granted the implications on the topic were dark enough to let me lose sleep.

The initial walk to get breakfast, as Sedula is quickly becoming my source for it, I had only a single sighting of Lore Lay, and she ran off as soon as I called her name, but it was worth seeing her cute little canter as she tried to look casual while moving down the middle of the street when Luna’s dominion was hanging overhead.

The breakfast itself started normally enough. Sedula and I talked about possibly seeing each other outside of a mad house one of these days, but then I had the glorious enjoyment of having my eyes covered with hooves and asked “Who is it?” repeatedly and incessantly until Sedula told Pinkie Pie to quit it and go back up to her room. Pinkie Pie refused to comply until she got to know who I was, I believe I wrote the following conversation down, but the end result was further knowledge and appreciation of the Element of Laughter. She supposedly has SOMETHING planned, and it’s going to take everypony, yes, even those in the state, off-guard. Prisoner escapes always catch my fancy in fiction books, maybe they can catch my fancy when they happen to the oppressors.

It was followed, appropriately enough, with another long walk in the sunrise to the offices where some of the Daily staff were being given a tour of what could be their next conquest. Some of them were chatting with Reasonable Story about the pay raise and the board member position she’d be getting. No comment on her questions about all the other employees’ pay, however. The article I had to write as a follow-up was weak, but, compared to the drivel that goes through the presses here on any other occasion, it was about par. Then again they posted it today, so maybe there’s a reason I’m not on the second floor making the decisions.

The final stretch of the day involved me going to the library and picking up a book that revealed the truth about the existence of crystallized shitting plants, which anypony (really, I should be the only one who ever looks at my journal, but it might eventually pass on to a soul who has a similar disposition) who read the last entry here should know how well that went.

I hate not being in the moment or on the verge of losing the moment when writing this. A lot of the "in the moment" realizations that get absorbed into the subconscious still have their source remembered, rather than just being knowledge that you ‘know’ but not where it came from. While clearly not something designed by the higher machinations, the value of this aspect of mammalian neurology is invaluable to the propaganda that the world puts out.

On the other hoof, when I don’t exercise distance, you get an entry half as long as this one on the topic of shitting plants.

333333333

Pie: Are you sure that writing on a soggy napkin will work?

Me: My special talent involves writing, and magic associated with writing is quite flexible. For example I don’t even have to focus on the quill, just talking will do the trick, as magic does everything

Sed: If you even think about singing, Miss Pie…

Pie: She’s good, a real keeper you know.

Sed: How'd you know that? We have met only two days ago, and sure as Tartarus I didn't say anything about myself to you.

Me: Waiving dismissively I’m not interested a relationship with Miss Sedula beyond a professional friendship Miss Pie, you said that if I answer a question that you’d answer in kind?

Pie: Uh-huh, who’re you?

Me: I’m just somepony who is looking for answers in unexpected places, and currently talking with a young pink mare in what appears to be a very foalish undergarment on her flank, do you care to explain what it is?

Pie: Oh, my diaper?

Me: Flarlglfell

Pie: Do you speak rock?

Me: No… just… just tell me about-

Pie: That certainly sounded like rock, maybe Maud would know the dialect

Sed: Miss Pie, please tell the nice stallion about your diaper.

Pie: Oh, it’s clean.

Me: For the sake of Tartarus, not THAT!

Pie: My turn! What’s your favorite color? Is it green? Mine is orange-blue-purple!

Me: It’s slate grey. Why are you wearing it?

Pie: Well, if I went on the floor it would just be another mess for hard-working Sedula to clean up, no? What’re your thoughts on the deficit of labor supply in the Manehatten region agricultural economy?

Me: I don’t have any, and if I did I wouldn’t be here talking to you. Why are you here?

Pie: I’m here to keep Twilight company: she got dragged away from all her friends and I’m here to remind her of home. Do you have any pets?

Me: No, they just stab you in the back later. When did you stop being here of your own free will?

Pie: Uh, never, I’ve always been here because I fully, absolutely, completely, really enjoy it here. Now, why are you here?

Me: Same as anypony else, I didn’t have a choice what planet my mother chose to get knocked up at. Does Velvet genuinely believe that you and your friend Twilight are her little fillies?

Pie: Well, we are, why wouldn’t we be? Well, we’re not REALLY little, but it’s fun to pretend, and Miss Velvet doesn’t like when Twilight tries to stop the fun. It will take time to move things into place, I have a plan that they won’t see coming. You know what I mean?

Me: Yes, I do indeed believe I know what you mean, thanks for your time, and if you need anything, ask Sedula to ask me.

Journal Entry #0451

The mare upstairs ordered that I check out the school again, even though all the previous times I did check it out it just resulted in me seeing a bored young mare surrounded by excited foals and occasionally getting lunch with Iron Pike after his shift to reminisce about old times. I don’t know what went through her little hornless head, but occasionally there is indeed a reason why she’s upstairs. She must always actually think with her gut, given that most of the time her ideas are just full of crap but occasionally she seems to know things I don’t. Of course, her being told to send me there today by somepony higher is a valid option, but thus far the higher machinations have been uncaring towards the free press. Maybe the magical source in Ponyville told her, as has been the case all the damn times she got in my britches about the case.

Either the higher machinations actually did directly provide the instructions on the path to take, or an ally of mine did, because they took me through an alley-way where I took a look on Lore Lay. Given the way she tried to scamper away and her muzzle-first impact into the wall, I’d state that I was an unexpected development of her day. Although, given the lack of injuries on her body, I’d say that she had a fair bit of earth pony blood in her... or maybe not enough. She eventually just sighed and went back to foal-watching. I guess everypony has their hobbies, and with what I’ve seen recently, this seemed pretty tame. She asked me what I wanted, either she forgot her “OMC, I’m such a huge fan” excuse from last week, or thought I saw straight through said excuse. My reply, on other hoof, was a simple request for answers and she pondered for a little while, before saying that she had an idea that could satisfy both of our interests.

She wanted to know what the families of the foals being indirectly effected by the madness were experiencing now, now that Twilight has been in class long enough to potentially have some influence on the domestic life of the families of the foals. However, she was unable to put in any time into it herself, due to her being busy for most of the day, although I suppose whenever I do start marching through this aspect of the investigation, she’ll find a way to be in the corner of my eye at sunset.

The supposedly tricky thing was finding out who the members of the family are... which would require a class list. My plan at the time required waiting until after school was properly out, which meant enough free time to ask Ms. Lore Lay for a cup of coffee and a chat, on the pretext of apologies for the broken nose. She did accept, on the condition that it was tea rather than coffee, which I suppose was the higher machinations methods of cutting down a self-sufficient local economy by forcing trade with lands abroad in addictive substances. It all started with Celestia, and it apparently went down 'till it reached little fillies playing secret agent as well.

The conversation wasn’t recorded, and my horn still hurts when I use basic spells due to the forceful methodology of which I was informed of that condition of the conversation. She seemed overall to be a pleasant young mare who seemed very amused with me taking issue with her working with the higher machinations, she even tried to get me to spill the beans on how much I knew. She seemed especially interested in the matter of the state and the princesses being just the shield and spear of the system, but she refused to mention what part of the body she belonged to. She even respond that I was ‘entertainingly wrong’ at one point, but that at least means that I know for certain that there are certain areas where while I’m wrong in the How’s and Why’s, I’m not wrong in the What’s, provided she was being honest in the conversation and given her continued use of a fake name, I’d say she likely wasn’t.

Once school was over (and added a certain tea-shop to my ‘centres of operation’ list) and I made it back on my own accord, well aware that I was being watched from somewhere, maybe everywhere. The actual methodology of getting to the classroom was eased by the lack of any familiar faces from the guard. Mainly the methodology included the long-heralded tradition amongst ponydom of putting one hoof in front of the other until I reached my destination.

The meeting with the head teacher was brief, but thankfully she didn’t recognize me from my previous visitations. This was the second time which was more than just a passing glance to verify that there were certainly no re-education facilities secretly within Canterlot, no reeducation facilities here at least, the castle is another story entirely. I used a trick they commonly called ‘honesty’, mostly used by those desperate enough to risk giving away the only secure immaterial thing they have, namely personal knowledge, in return for something brief and likely material in nature. Of course, when you have nothing else to give, it works out well. I showed documentation as a reporter for the Inquirer and a clipping of the first article on the topic and I stated that my goal was in finding out more about how the community was dealing with the situation, now that time and first shock has passed. After assuring her that Twilight would know of it, I was given two pages of a small selection of home addresses to evaluate, not the amount that Ms. Lore requested, but enough to where I could find out more than enough to satisfy my personal curiosity.

Does it count as working for the system when you’re doing out of selfish reasons and a desire to eventually destroy it? I’d say yes, but unlike a certain tea-slurping mare I don’t have to be happy it in the least.

I don’t know where my prized journal went, tearing through the office revealed nothing, tearing through my home revealed nothing. Pressing the mare upstairs on whether she gave my journal to somepony else was met with multiple declinations and offers to taste test multiple grape flavored juices, and I declined: I didn’t need any more sugar in my veins, in addition to the treats I got when I visited Sedula.

I’m nigh certain that my socialization with the Femme-Fatale is the reason why my precious journal was taken away. My goal and purpose today was to find her and beat her skull in with it, but I had an understandable lack of success. She got what she wanted, why did she need to trail me anymore now?

Were they pouring over my discoveries past and present? Or was it being held hostage, telling me to go do my job for them before I could do my job for ponykind?

A silly diary for silly fillies, Copyright 87

The first one in my "targets list" of foals was a certain Bright Light. This colt lived inside a (horrible, I have to say) neo-romean styled-apartment complex near the borders of the city. Sadly, I could not ask anything to his parents or caretakers, since I read a notice on the glued on the glass door stating that all apartments were getting de-ratified after a long time, and that all residents had to move away for two days. Whether the higher machinations were planning to re-educate the ponies usually living in those flats or were doing some hairy charity, I do not know nor it mattered much. The point was, the colt's family was surely not there and I didn't know where to find him and his family otherwise.

Due to this, I passed to the next one on my list, a filly this time, named Pearly Handle. This filly resided not too far from Bright Light's abode, as she lived inside the palace (also built with that horrible and oppression-inspiring style) at the opposite side of the road where the complex, the one I tried to visit previously, stood. Looking at the list again, I checked for the parents' surnames and then looked at the label near each doorbell for find the right one. Took me five minutes, but I finally found it and, when I did, shortly after ringing,
the voice of a seemingly young stallion with a weird and thick accent answered me, and, once again, I told her the truth about my position. I didn't expect it to work, however. The stallion opened from the apartment the door to me, and I pushed inwards as he told me excitedly that he was at the third door on the fifth floor. A few minutes going up the spotless and dimly lit stairs of the palace, I reached the fifth floor with my forehead wet from sweat. But, hey, I've been eating muffins like a hog for several days, what did I expect?

The third door was, not surprisingly, wooden and with a simple bronze door knock and knob. I used the first one, and, shortly after, the door was opened for me, revealing the guy that answered me at the door. He was indeed a young stallion, in fact, he looked (and acted) far too young to be the father of the filly, making me assume he was the filly's brother or foalsitter. I was going to leave, but, since I was already there, I might as well could have tried. The inside of the apartment was, for the most part, nice and tidy, to the point to look as sterile as a recently-cleaned hospital room, maybe not so surprising in hindsight, considered that the owners of the house were doctors.

The stallion told me his name (Admnistrador Abençoado I think), asked me if I wanted some coffee, before we started the "interview," and then asked me if Pearly Handle's presence was necessary for what I needed, and naturally I said yes, to which he said we were going to wait for her nap to end before she could come, and me begin me, I decided to start off anyway.

Admini: Taking a sip from his cup Tão, we start?

Me: Sure. Now, I don't know what is your exact relationship with the little miss...

Admini: I'm her foalsitter.

Me: Oh, okay then. So, with that out of the way, I'm here to ask you if Pearly has been talking about a pretty peculiar character that attends the same classroom, and how much do you know about her.

Admini: Seemingly confused as he takes a sip of coffee Attends to? What it means?

Me: It means "go to school."

Admini: Oh, alright. Well, she says to me that Twilight Sparkle, I think aquele is her name, is big as the teachers and that she speaks fancy.

Me: But does her name reminds you of anything?

Admini: He shrugs Yes, her name reminds me of a celebrated girl I tried to embark after the defeat of Discord. She said that was her name, but she rejected me. Still, I'm sure she isn't related.

Me: Actuall, she is related. More than you think she would be... because she's the same pony.

Admini: He looks aghast at me You say on serious?

Me: Yes, I do. Why do you ask?

Admini: Oh Celestia dea, what happened to she?

Me: She was put back in Kindergarten, but don't ask me what exactly caused her to be sent in there. I'm only the one that will put on paper your precious knowledge on the matter for all to see.

Admini: That's really curious. But I do not know nothing about it He turns his head around and perks his ears, the menina is still asleep, and senhor and senhora are out until twelve and half.

Me: Thank anyway, then.

After this fruitless attempt, I got out from that damn oppressive palace and looked at my list of addresses again. Skipping over a certain Sitòn Ligostos due to the fact he lived in a far-off fraction, my next target was a filly called Lex Populi, whom, interestingly enough, she lived near the center of the city. I infiltrated deep in the home territory of the higher machinations, hoping that reaching the address to speak wasn't going to result in my (not-so-untimely) demise, once I had rang the bell of the house.

When I shook the rope of the bell, I was greeted with a raspy and annoying voice of a mare in her late years telling me something in a language I could not understand, to which I asked what she just said, propting more unintelligible phrases spoken with an angrier tone, probably curses directed at me. I tried again, and, this time, a blue mare with gray mane, thick glasses, back tutor and a wrinkly face in tow, came into my sight, who was shortly followed by a light pink filly with a white curly mane. The little filly her naivety be blessed after a few seconds of looking at me sideways she greeted me with a weak hoof wave, and the mare glared at me as she said something unintelegible once more. At that point, I gave up and left the area as fast as I could.

The last one on the list was the family of one “Olive Oil”, a lad that, judging from the fact he had a small print in his name that read "To be moved into Tutoring Class," seemed to be struggling in his education, and the seating chart given to me put him close to Miss Sparkle, making him the ideal last attempt to contact in this little excursion away from my primary objective.

Usually when I go staking out a home I expect them to be a home, with the families here in this sparkling city normally being employed by the state or one of the larger operations of capitalism it’s to be understood that a home is a home alone. I fortunately found what one would find in one of the less corrupted settlements such as Ponyville or Las Pegasus with the innate entrepreneurial spirit of ponies shining through by combining their living arrangements with their talents and goals. The front-end of the building was a high-rise restaurant, appearing to be designed to fully function as an eating establishment.

The home itself was more or less a tumor growing out the back of the restaurant, trying to absorb the least amount of resources and space from the host body, the patriarch was dedicated to pursing his passions. The best I could gauge on his passions involved the obvious culinary obsession, if one can call dreams an obsession, and his son. Given that most of his property was meant to spread his talents and creations with other ponies, and what little remained was meant as space for the young colt to grow up and successfully find a purpose to his life. At least, I hoped I was accurate lest he just be another stallion putting on a façade of accomplishment and happiness over the reality of discontent and self-loathing.

The food, itself par for the course among those with talents in such things, combined with what little I learned from our conversation, made the night worthwhile. All I got out of the endeavor is that the kid has a background common to too many, and that if Twilight is a corrupting influence, she’s either so excellent at it she’s undetectable or so pathetic that she’s negligible and undetectable.

It’s interesting: I keep sensing something deeper, but it keeps eluding me, like a mare standing on a rooftop at sunset, it keeps vanishing before I can get a good grasp on it.

A silly diary for silly fillies, Copyright 87

VVVVVVVVV

Me: Thanks for the dinner Mr. Oil, it was filling. Now, I believe you understood my purpose in being here tonight?

Fryer: Hopefully I did, normally inviting somepony back into my house is either for something my son did or for personal, er... satisfaction Twiddles his hooves given out by my wife. And what I understood was that this is barely related to my little stallion, right?

Me: I’m just here because your dau-, son, is going to school with a unique character, how much do you know about her?

Fryer: Well, he did repeatedly say there was a "big girl" there, but that’s hardly unusual, since he calls everypony a year or two older "big." Outside of that, I can’t really say, is there a noble foal? Oh wait, it’s another one of Blueblood’s bast-

Me: As much as I wish that were true, that’s hardly a story these days. But does the name “Twilight Sparkle” ring any bells?

Fryer: Can’t say it does. I mean, sounds familiar, but it’s a bit of a loaded question, ain’t it? There are probably at least a dozen fillies running around the school with a similar name. Now, I want you to ring my bells for me, why is a little filly worth barging into a stallion’s restaurant and asking to talk to him for something about his very young son?

Me: She’s hardly a little filly, Mr. Deep. Twilight Sparkle is.. you read current events right? He nods Good, she’s the one who put Luna back onto the throne, and she had a... little outburst that lead to displeasure of the government, and she’s back in Kindergarten.

Fryer: So, is she a little filly again?

Me: No, she’s a fully grown mare still, and I’m not here to educate you, you’re here to educate the populace with your words, with my pen merely being the medium it goes out into the world, spoken out loud by the masses!

Fryer: A bit full of yourself bud? You’re asking a father about his son’s possible gossiping to further ruin the reputation and integrity of a mare who already lost both, you’re probably not a step above any of the others at your despicable Inquirer.

Me: Consider it a desperate gamble to achieve enlightenment with acceptable casualties. Tell me a little about your family, are you married? How’s your son doing otherwise?

Fryer: He grumbles "Know when to fold ‘em, know when to ante." I suppose that’s what you columnists with your party crashing and ‘hard questions’ need to know how to do. I’m married, to the fine, fine, mare that birthed my son, and about him, despite his lack of focus, he’s learning the tools of the trade. He’s a near-prodigy, almost as good as I was when I was his age, and I'm sure he'll net me money soon.

Me: Care to tell me more about your lovely wife, where’s she?

Fryer: He looks uncomfortable and he gulps, but still looks weary of me She’s out giving tours to people unfamiliar with the capital, it’s her job you know?

Me: She’s giving tours at this hour? Quite the dedicated tour guide to give tours to those who can’t stand basking in the open daylight.

Fryer: My son’s doing fine, he told me nothing about this mare you are asking for and it’s time for you to recognize you stayed past your welcome! Gets up and chases me out

VVVVVVVVV

Besides the little mare on the rooftops, it’s been difficult to get any sort of understanding of what’s going on beyond the inevitable ‘the child didn’t really say much’ from a foalsitter and uncooperative father. House to house, home to home, I didn’t get much besides the students not finding her out of place besides her size and somewhat behviour… which is when it struck me to change my line of questioning to one of understanding how similar she’s become to her younger untrained comrades. That started to get results, mainly that she’s completely and utterly lost her continence, if what I’ve been told about her accidents is correct. Which points at the physiological trauma of the homestead as being worth further investigation, the Magical Plant of Soiling the Floor possibly wasn’t even necessary anymore, just being something that Sedula is being forced to keep on adding for the love of the household and hope for Velvet’s reconciliation with reality.

If Twilight is ‘going native’, then there’s no real hope for saving her outside of forcing her out of her current environment, and that’s likely a path in my life that will result with at least a night in a jail cell with Ass In-Dolore again, at most a life on the run with a mentally scarred young mare loyally devoted to the higher machinations.

I won’t be able to save her, but that just makes her another reminder of what I’m fighting against and what they’re willing to do.

A silly diary for silly fillies, Copyright 87

Journal Entry #0452

HI THERE! Don’T bE so grumpY All ThE TimE, AnD ThE lEAsT you coulD Do is bE sTraighT forwArD AbouT why you AnD SeDulA Talk in ThE mornings. You Don’T hAve To worry AbouT The rEsT of ThE fAmily gETTing upseT AbouT whAT you’rE Doing. If you lovE hEr you cAn bE opEn AbouT iT, shE’s noT A shy TEEnAgE filly you know. I know ThAT Mommy can be, oDD, somETimEs, but ThAT DoEsn’T mEAn you hAve to hiDE AnD bE scArEd To bE upfronT

Several days without my prized journal and I find out why. Ponies call me ‘paranoid’ but this is why I’m goddamn justified in my advanced methodologies of security.

Everything in here seems to be in order at least, so whatever purpose the pink mare is working for at least respects my privacy, or more likely finds my investigation as a non-threat and this is their way of letting continue this little charade. They have a lot of faith in me to assume that I’m incompetent of finding what I search for. I previously stated that I had to further investigate that home, beyond my occasional morning visits, but I guess I’m being given no choice when the state takes away my prized possession and ‘convinces’ their hostage to write in it, either she’s been manipulated to an extent or she’s completely gone in the same vain as Twilight.

⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆

PAGE 3 CANTERLOT: Twilight Sparkle, the honorable Element Bearer of Magic, has been confirmed as being affected by her assumed to unusual method of punishment for the past riots in Ponyville.

Previously confirmed to be going through the process of Magical Kindergarten, she is also known to have been given additional punishment while under house arrest.

Twilight Sparkle is now known to be mentally effected by this lax punishment by the Princess, which suggests that we were indeed wrong to question her as some of our letters to the editor duly note. She has been confirmed, through conversations and interviews with affiliated students and parents, to have been adopting the persona and the mannerisms of her younger peers in the class.

It’s inevitable that through the mundanity and mindnumbingness of basic education that all of us found some form of coping measures, be it daydreaming, drawing, interacting with peers, or for an unfortunate few taking an interest in the material, for Ms. Sparkle it appears to be that she is taken to the lack of stimulation for someone in her mental stature by lowering herself to the point where it can interest her.

⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆⏆

Journal Entry #0453

The most recent article put words into my mouth that I didn’t want, mainly making my assumptions, uncertainties and outright fabrications about the situation seem like genuine fact, but it’s more concrete than whatever Mrs. Lemon was writing about buffaloes' supposed rudeness to ponies living in that penal colony disguised as town.

Hopefully for once the next one will actually inform the populace of what I mean rather than what the mare upstairs thinks will sell a few more papers, or will fill out enough space to ensure we can keep in business until we have to spend our time writing at the level expected to be read by seven-year-olds.

The long early walk to the Sparkle residence was only punctuated by one sighting of my little admirer, poor bitch can’t seem to get out of her boring job of tailing a stallion who’s probably just a little bit closer to the truth than most of the sheep, while poor me keeps having to check on the same boring places for some hopefully not boring pieces of new evidence that indicates as to what’s the meaning to this insanity… and inevitably neither of us will get results other than the forlorn gazes at each other as we pass each other by, commuters on the roads of conspiracy and enlightenment.

The standard meeting with Sedula was interrupted by both a blur of pink and a blur of grey. Clearly I was both expected and prepared for. In hindsight it’s obvious that there being more than two plates and actual utensils laid out meant that I should’ve expected early risers that particular day, but when one settles into a routine it’s easy to lower your defenses and awareness of the situation.

I had the chance to have a morning breakfast conversation with all present, and while uncomfortable, it did provide me evidence of this being set-up, they knew I was coming, and had all the pieces in place to convince me that resistance is futile, and their machinations are unstoppable, even if they show me a good portion of their hand.

Although the muffin was heavily appreciated, it hardly helped the mental discontentment I was going through. My goal for the rest of the day was to find ‘Lore Lay’ to try to get some sort of beat on the eccentric and cruel methodologies that the higher machinations were employing in this operation of theirs. Given her predictable pattern, which I suppose was a combination of a taunt and a response to my own terribly predictable patterns, I figured that I had the rest of the day to kill, mainly by going back to office and checking out our future prospects.

They weren’t bright; our little organization for truth was being buried underneath declining sales figures, with the inevitable response of pandering to even a baser clientele, who were always assumed to be slightly less literate than our previously assumed reader base. The eventual outcome being enough insulted or uninterested readers to lose further market share. The harsh cycle would keep repeating, part of me once assumed that the higher machinations were involved, eventually I just concluded that those with intelligence but not loyalty to ponykind were too smart to be involved here, which left me surrounded by idiots looking for entertaining busywork or those who are only loyal enough to work for the cause of truth when it suited them.

The mare upstairs was upset at my low output on this project, who can blame her? I wrote barely enough for to fill a full page, much less an actual break-through. I was always being teased with more information, and quite a bit of the information I got either is too disturbing or too unsubstantiated to find their ways into an article. Doesn’t stop others from putting out made-up nonsense, but somepony here has to have standards of publication, even if the editor just pushes it down to a level that is comfortable for the mewling and baaing masses.

I don’t know whether it’s my job on the line or my loyalty to ponykind that moves me forward, maybe its general idiocy of some sort.

VVVVVVVVVVV

Vel: Good morning Night Light, sleep well?

Sed: He has slept fine, we were just having a chat about his work Mrs. Velvet.

Vel: Oh, did he now? Honey, what were you telling Serva?

Me: Ow, no need to pok- ow, It was just the usual… hun?

Pie: Are you okay Mommy?

Me: Is anypony okay here?

Vel: I’m fine little one, just daddy seems confused, do you need more sleep?

Me: No I don’t, still groggy I guess, could you pass me that pot of coffee over there?

Vel: Remember what we talked about last week?

Me: No…

Vel: Stallions, the adults in the house drink from the containers with the pink sticker, we agreed to this when we decided to give Twilight her medicine. Ms. Serva remembers, or am I just going crazy?

Sed: If I didn’t remember would those stickers even be on the containers?

Vel: See? I just wish that you remembered our conversations more often sweetheart.

Pie: Moooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmm, are you sure you’re okay?

Me: That reminds me, Pinkie Pie, did you happen to write in my journal?

Pie: Uhhh

Vel: Pinkie, did you write in daddy’s journal?

Pie: No, I didn’t write in daddy’s journal.

Sed: Did you write in any stallion’s journal?

Pie: Maybe?

Me: Well, my journal here was missing for a little while, and when I found it, there was this message in pink crayon.

Vel: Could I see it?

Me: Hand that back!

Sed: Here it is madam.

Vel: … Pinkie is going to lose her crayon privileges for this. But I’m going to ask you a favor honey, if I hand this back to you do you promise to talk with Pinkie about how a mommy’s and daddy’s love is different than a proper appreciation for your servants?

Me: I have no choice in the matter do I?

Vel: Think of it as punishment for forgetting our previous conversation. I’ll go check in on Twilight, see you later dear.

Me: I’ll have the conversation later… honey, I need to go out and work, remember?

Vel: Don’t you have the weeken-

Sed: Today’s a special day and he needs to file those papers. I guess you both need to work on your memories.

Me: Thank you Ms. Serva, I’ll take a muffin to go if you don’t mind…

VVVVVVVVVVV

Journal Entry #0454

I bucking forgot to include my meeting with Lore Lay in the previous entry, apparently past me think it’s better to end on a questioning note rather than actually use this journal for its intended purpose. It’s a habit I have to eventually break out of. Also, five days without entires. Darn, I suck at memorizing things

It wasn’t hard finding her, mainly took going to her favorite tea shop in the area at sunset. She came in a rush, galloping and sweating, surely an uncleanly look for the mare. Actually, it suited her a bit as punishment, actually sweating while doing her work rather than doing her agency work from the nice cool shadows. Also good to know that when I’m in a place the machinations don’t expect they caused panic in their agent, a minor victory is still a victory, a minor defeat is but a sacrifice for the greater good.

She seemed happy getting her order and sitting down across from me, no questions from her, no introduction, nothing, just waiting for me to reveal a fraction more of where I was in attempting to go. My questioning of her didn’t result in much as she just wanted to know what the results of my investigation on the students and their households were. I left nothing out, they likely already knew what I knew, and this was just a test to see how gullible, or at least cooperative, I am. Let them think I’ll fall into their clutches, being near them just opens their belly to a proper evisceration with their hooves close to what they think is a useful idiot.

She did seem surprised with my information; mainly that the foals didn’t find the situation all that odd or unusual, or they weren’t even affected by it. It’s like she was expecting less mental stability in Ms. Sparkle and her classmates. Maybe rather than expecting she was hoping, it would fit in line with the vibe I was getting from the sickness permeating the thought processes of them all.

Pressing along that route revealed that indeed, the higher machinations were indeed targeting Sparkle for breaking down, but along a route that I didn’t expect. They were using a specific family for their methodologies, and that it might be in my best interests, if I was actually interested in being enlightened, at investigating a small colt that went by Ostoba… and that I was ‘behind schedule’, and supposedly the list I got was supposed to have his name on it, and this threw things into a pinch. If I recall the conversation correctly, being forbidden from writing during our encounters is a pain in the flank, but it’s needed for a degree of civility in our confrontations. Anyways, Ostoba was supposedly already en route to being a mechanism to further torture Ms. Sparkle, it’s excellent to know that those who I pay taxes to take innocent foals and make them into dangerous elements to harm those who fail them.

Why are they being so open with their hand? Is this a test of some sort, or am I seen as so gullible that I have to be led by the muzzle to be of even the slightest use to them?

____

☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴

Rank: Sergeant

Station: F10Canter-Subsec 5

Name: Doppia Picca

Suspect, previously identified as “Screwy Words’ made his first appearance after a few weeks of not showing up to cause further trouble. He appeared after school hours demanding information on one Orvosti Ostoba, and was denied his request by Mrs. Lux. His reaction afterwards was to attempt to coerce the information out of the assistant teacher, followed by repeated accusations of her being ‘anti-pony’, her reaction was to attempt to force Mr. Words from the room, which was when I was called into the scene. The suspect immediately laid down any attempt of resistance, with one exception of attempting to run down an alley, and shouts of various expletives and the code phrase “Lore Lay”, no nearby suspects were detected and the site is considered to be secure. The suspect held no resistance to being taken to his detainment facility outside of those incidents near the time of moon rising.

☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴☴

____

[---------

------]

Name: Screwy Words

Reason for Detainment: Hostile actions towards others, resistance of arrest

Location: Canterlot, Jeanne De Balestre Quarter

Current Cell: #310

Date of trial: 20th of the month ROYAL PARDON EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY

Previous Convictions: Resisting Arrest, Breaking and Entering, Littering on Public Property, Interference with Public Service, Aggravated Slander, Scam, and Disruption of Legal Processes

Further notes: Suspect is normally fairly relaxed, though impolite, all requests to keep his journal are to be obeyed, as suspect is known to pathologic or unpredictable without it. Regular medical visitation by mental health officers is to be advised until further notice. All gifts and visitors are to be thoroughly examined for potential contraband. Any irregularities in sleep schedule are to be reported, if continual contact with anesthetic specialist is advised.

UNDERNEATH ROYAL AUTHORITY SCREWY WORDS IS TO BE RELEASED AFTER A PERIOD OF 24 HOURS ALL VISITORS ARE TO BE PROTECTED BY AT LEAST ONE GUARD

Journal Entry #0455

They keep throwing me away into these fortresses of oppression, and never have the courtesy to state their actual reasons behind the arrest. Always about me ‘resisting arrest’, none of what that arrest was for, the answer of ‘getting too close for comfort’ is never given, always an ‘antagonizing innocent civilians or nobles’. Celestia forbid I actually harm an innocent! I just focus on getting to the truth, and while there may be some accidental casualties of those who didn’t deserve it, it’s necessary to take down the machinations which cause many thousands more casualties by the day for reach whatever ‘oh so harmonious’ goal they have in mind, if they have one beyond their self-perpetuating desire for power and control.

It’s infuriating to be locked up with those common criminals whose only contributions to the cause is as meatshields, ensuring that the state has something to point at to justify its own existence, and pretending to not know that their existence and the criminal element are often intertwined and cooperative to the goals of the higher machinations. I sit here, with only today’s unusual addition of a royal pardon; the guards were just as surprised as I was. Maybe I passed Ms. Lay’s little test and am more useful outside these bars, don’t know how, or why, but for once being at the center of a conspiracy is something I find double edged rather than something purely malevolent.

A Royal Pardon, to be enacted by the next sunset. I look forward to that which awaits me on the other side of the night’s rest. If I’m lucky enough I’ll have tea with yet another fine agent of the higher machinations.

Journal Entry #0456

The meeting wasn’t what I expected to be… I hoped to meet somepony who I could recognize as an agent of the ever familiar, and increasingly twisted, oppression. Instead of Lore Lay, or Princess Celestia herself for that matter, I got to meet a middle-aged mother who supposedly served this country proudly in the past against some raiders, in a town lost in the ass of Equestria called Borgo Cagamattoni. She stated that, after reading my work, she had gotten interested in my current line of work, investigation, what have you. She also told me something I didn’t expect, mainly that she had an idea for aid me in my research of the truth, by the usage of powers that go my wildest imaginations. Normally I would back away from such an encounter, they are either crazy ponies, have sinister intent or both, and this time it appeared like it was both. However, backing away isn’t much of an option while inside a cell, and when she’s accompanied by a royal guard (I think it was Steeled Sword, must remember to apologize about the Library incident) it’s strictly inadvisable for both practical and societal reasons.

She gave me pictures of her son as evidence of what was going on. I'm certain that, if I wasn’t pardoned, the mere act of looking at such images would guarantee an extended sentence, if not additional crimes against equinity. There are certain things that I understand the higher machinations do for their end goals, but these sort of things I classify as both beneath them, and completely counterproductive to their (or I guess what I once thought was) goals. Foals are supposed to be protected, and all previous information I had told me that the higher powers wanted them even more innocent for the harshness of reality than what we were raised to be.

She gave me an address, where I could hopefully contact her further, and HOPEFULLY reach the bottom of this damn conspiracy. I'm not sure if this is truly a good idea, but, at this point, there is nothing else to do but look inside the latest revealed passages... even if they might appear to lead to Tartarus.