“Shiny, happy ponies holding hooves!” Pinkie sang, and was answered by a muffled, though apparently equally enthusiastic-sounding repetition that I could barely make out through the walls of our private compartment in one of the rearmost train cars. This was probably her third time leading everyone on the train through the song, and I was beginning to regret the situation I’d put myself in by breaking my Pinkie Promise from the previous evening.

To atone for my sins, Pinkie had demanded one thing: that I teach her a happy or silly song from Earth. The song I ended up picking had a certain sentimental attachment to it. Under the auspices of an educational tourism program, I went to Australia when I was sixteen, and this particular song happened to be popular with the other students I was with. Like Pinkie, we’d performed the song almost every time we were on the road.

It went without saying that I was beginning to feel a certain amount of pity for the teacher-chaperones that had had to endure our antics almost half a lifetime ago.

Thankfully, Twilight was there to save my sanity. “Pinkie," she said, "I know you mean well, but I think you’re having the opposite effect from what you intended.”

At that particular moment, I heard a sound that was halfway between a balloon deflating rapidly and someone sitting on a whoopee cushion. Whipping my head towards the sound, I caught sight of what had to be one of the most heart-wrenching and strangest displays of emotion I’d yet seen in a pony. Pinkie was shooting me the most soulful, sad-looking eyes ever, and her mane and tail had visibly deflated, looking far flatter than I’d ever seen it. It kind of reminded me of those pictures she’d shown me of her sisters.

“Oh, Derren,” she said in a tremulous voice, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I was hoping to finally get you to turn that frown upside down with something that made you feel good, and it only made things worse. I ‒” her breath hitched, and before I could do or say anything to stop what was coming, she threw her head back and wailed loudly, tears cascading from her eyes like a waterfall.

I cringed at the display, and desperately looked to my other companions for assistance. Using her quadrupedal seated position to her advantage, Faran merely gave a very human shrug.

Gee, thanks for the help, I thought, sarcasm dripping from every unspoken word. She at least had the decency to look concerned about Pinkie’s condition, though.

“I’m suddenly regretting mentioning it,” Twilight said guiltily. Her ears were folded back, and she was cringing just as much as me at Pinkie’s hysterics.

I shot her a sympathetic look, reaching a hand up only to hold it awkwardly for a few moments before yanking it back, prompting a confused stare from the mare. I had been sorely tempted to add a comforting scratch behind the ears, but thought better of it. If nothing else, it might be taken the wrong way. I ultimately settled on the least offensive gesture I could think of, and reached out again to gently pat her on the back.

“It’s my fault, too, Twilight,” I said, silently cheering myself that she hadn’t objected to the contact. Instead, she gave me a wan smile before jerking her head in the direction of the crying mess I’d made of a particular pink party pony. I got the message loud and clear.

“Pinkie,” I barely croaked. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to grab her attention. I cringed again at the sight of matted fur along her cheeks and her puffy, bloodshot eyes; not to mention the snot drooling out of her nostrils.

I cleared my throat and tried again, this time sounding much stronger. “Pinkie, I really am sorry I broke my Pinkie Promise.” Buoyed by my success with Twilight, I crouched down and placed a comforting hand on the party pony’s withers, which caused her to look hopefully up at me through the rather unglamorous mess she’d made of her features. “I let my struggles in dealing with all the culture shock I’ve experienced since coming here get in the way of enjoying what looked like a very fun party. I’ll bet if you threw another one once I can get my bearings, I’d enj‒”

I didn’t get to finish the sentence before getting tackled across the private compartment and slammed painfully into the side of the train. Further damage was being inflicted by the hug I was receiving from Pinkie, which had the force of about a hundred boa constrictors all compressing the same portion of my body. She also happened to be getting bodily fluids all over my shirt as she nuzzled me, but for some reason, my impending death by pony-induced asphyxiation bothered me more at that moment.

“Of course I forgive you, Der-Bear, you silly-billy!” Pinkie squealed. “Just let me know when you’re really ready to party, and I’ll set everything up for you!”

“Thanks, Pinkie, but could you possibly let me breathe now?” I choked out.

“Oopsie! Sorry about that, Der-Bear!” she sang. I still had a hard time believing that anyone could be so damn cheerful all the time, but I was beginning to think that if any sapient being could pull it off, it’d probably be Pinkie.

As promised, however, my poor, abused lungs were quickly given room to suck down precious oxygen, and my breathing gradually returned to normal. “Don’t worry about it, Pinkie,” I said. “I know your heart’s in the right place. I’m just going to need some time to get used to the full ‘Pinkie Experience.’”

“Okie dokie lokie!” she chirped, wiping away what remained of her earlier tears with a hoof. And just like that, all was forgiven. Praise Zombie Jesus.

Twilight chose that moment to interrupt our little interspecies kumbaya session. “I’m sorry too, Pinkie,” she said, her words as heavy with contrition as her ears. “I can’t believe that I forgot how sensitive you can be when somepony doesn’t warm up to you right away.”

“It’s okay, Twilight,” Pinkie replied cheerfully. “You were just trying to make him feel comfortable, just like me!”

“Besides,” I supplied, “Pinkie seems to be pretty forgiving of most transgressions ‒ though I suppose you would know that better than me. You shouldn’t worry too much about it. Just think of it as practice for when you meet with this Moondancer.” I couldn’t resist a somewhat sly smile when I said that.

Unfortunately, this had an adverse effect on the lavender mare. In that moment, I knew that even if I lived to be a thousand, I’d probably never fully understand the ability of Equestrian ponies’ facial fur to reflect the physiological expressions of emotion in a similar manner to human skin.

The color drained from her face until she had achieved a ghostly pale hue, and she sat there stammering incoherently for several moments. Her left eye developed a rather worrisome twitch to it, as did her right ear. She also seemed to have adopted what I could only describe as the pony version of the fetal position, and I couldn’t tell how much of her rocking motion was from the movement of the train, and how much was her own panic-induced catatonia.

At a loss for what to do, I turned to Spike. “Is… Is she always like this?”

“Like what?” he demanded, looking up from his comic book with visible reluctance, as if pulling him from the riveting tale was a massive imposition. His attitude made an immediate one-eighty upon seeing his caretaker’s psychological state. “Geez, Derren. What did you do to her?”

“Do? I didn’t do anything! I ‒” Spike’s skeptical gaze quickly took the wind out of the sails of my vehement denial. “I just… reminded her that she was going to rekindle some old friendships while she was in Canterlot.”

“Friendships that she deeply regrets having taken for granted,” Spike retorted, his reptilian eyes boring into me in a way that had me sweating bullets. “No wonder she’s so upset. I haven’t seen her this bad since that one time when she got so worked up over being tardy with a friendship report that she enchanted a raggedy old doll of hers to be extremely desirable to anypony who laid eyes on it.”

“That… sounds like it should be very illegal,” I murmured in worried awe of Twilight’s magical prowess.

I shook my head to prevent my thoughts from straying into much darker territory. After all, Celestia had given every indication of being a benevolent, non-corrupt ruler so far, and I had more immediate concerns to deal with. I’d stuck my foot in my mouth ‒ again ‒ and it was up to me to fix the mess I’d made. I set my sights on Twilight, who was still looking like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her mane had become disheveled once more from all the rocking she’d been doing.

“Twilight,” I said softly. She didn’t stir, or give any indication of acknowledging my presence.

“Twilight,” I tried again, louder this time. Still no response.

Okay then, time to up the ante.

With exaggerated slowness, I reached out towards the hysterical mare with my right hand. Only my index finger was extended as I made contact with her nose.

“Boop.” A cheeky smile had wormed its way onto my lips. The response was immediate, as Twilight scrunched her nose, touching it with a forehoof as if in wonder over the strange sensation that had just broken her out of her trance.

I reached out to boop her again, only to have her pin my hand to the plush cushion of the train seat with a downward motion of her hoof. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she looked at me.

“Um, hi,” I said sheepishly. “Welcome back to the waking world.”

“Why did you do that?” she replied, a slight trace of irritation in her voice.

“To be honest, I was starting to worry about you,” I said simply. “You were really freaking out over the prospect of being reunited with your Canterlot friends ‒ totally my fault, by the way. I didn’t realize that merely mentioning it would be so… stressful.” I paused, looking at Twilight curiously. “Why did you react that way, anyway?”

A long, mournful-sounding sigh eventually escaped Twilight’s lungs. “Let’s just say that I have a habit of setting very high standards for myself, and that if even the slightest prospect of failure exists, well ‒”

“She’ll make a mountain out of a molehill, which ends up causing problems for everypony else,” Spike bluntly concluded for her.

“Spike!” Twilight chided.

“You have to admit that it’s a fairly accurate assessment, Miss Sparkle,” Faran replied. She then appraised the little dragon with a chastising glare. “Even if it could be said more tactfully.”

Spike flinched from Faran’s disapproving eyes and gazed back at the mare that had hatched him. “Sorry, Twi,” he mumbled.

Judging from the way she looked at him, Twilight wasn’t fully satisfied with his apology, but wasn’t inclined to pursue the matter, either. “It’s okay, Spike,” she said evenly, “I can forgive you this time. Just try to think before you speak in the future, alright?”

Spike merely nodded in understanding, and the two shared a brief, familial embrace before separating. The baby dragon returned to his seat and picked up his discarded comic book as if nothing had happened.

I sat watching the scene for a moment before coming to a decision. I scooted over close to Twilight, and laid a comforting hand on her withers. She looked up at me, worry written on her features and her ears flat against her skull.

“Twilight,” I said in a gentle tone, “it’s okay to worry about the future. I do it, too.” I could feel my heart warming a little as a small smile dawned on her lips and her ears slowly returned to normal. “But, as I’m sure you’re aware from your little time travel escapades, if you become consumed with everything that could go wrong, it can paralyze you into indecision, and that can be worse than overreacting.”

“I suppose you speak from experience,” Twilight replied with a wry smile.

A small burst of laughter escaped from my lungs before I replied. “You could say that.” The brief moment of levity evacuated the compartment like a fart in a gust of wind, and my face fell in response. “In addition to my growing cynicism about friendship, I naturally had a hard time making new friends because of my anxieties about messing up. Probably even missed out on an opportunity for romance because of it.”

“Really?”

I nodded my head in sober reflection. Just as I opened my mouth to tell the story, realization set in. Here I was, about to pour my heart out for someone I didn’t know all that well. And on top of that, she was an alien. Granted, it would be unfair to call Twilight a complete stranger at that point, but we’d only hung out together for a total of four days so far. For all I knew, she was only doing it at the behest of her mentor, the mare who ran the country. Was she really showing me genuine kindness by offering me a place to stay and helping me get back on my feet, or was she simply doing it to please the princesses?

You’re being silly, you know, some small part of me retorted. She’s generously giving of herself for your benefit, and you’re questioning her motives?

Well, yeah, I countered. If you’d experienced the things I have, wouldn’t you?

No, and especially not when these ponies have given you no reason to mistrust them, came the forceful reply.

Great, now I’m arguing with myself, I mentally grumbled.

And losing, my conscience shot back dryly. Now, if you weren’t lying to this mare earlier about reconsidering friendship, you’ll say something to her before she starts to worry about you.

Why would she‒ a palpable stony silence cut my internal debate short ‒ Right. Opening up to pony now.

Another crack formed in the seemingly impregnable shell I’d spent half a lifetime building up to keep from being hurt by others.

Closing my mouth once more, I merely nodded in response to Twilight’s question. “It’s kind of a long story, and involves unrequited love compounded by the fact that the girl I was pining after was getting out of a bad relationship at the time we’d met. I’d like to tell it to you some day, but I’m just not comfortable doing so right now.”

Twilight smiled sweetly, though tiredly, at me. “I understand. I wouldn’t dream of pressuring you into talking about anything you don’t want to discuss,” she murmured, leaning against me and looking as if she were about to fall asleep against my arm.

I looked a bit askance at her, though that was because of the unexpected contact. Taking a moment to settle down, I gave her a wan smile of my own. “Thanks, Twilight.”

“No problem,” she replied. “Anything for a good friend.”

“I don’t know that we’re quite at the good friends stage just yet,” I said, my words interspersed with a nervous chuckle, “but I appreciate the sentiment anyway.”

“Nonsense,” Twilight retorted, “We may not have known each other all that long, but I’ve seen enough to be pretty confident that we’re going to be good friends.”

At Twilight’s words, I felt a familiar warmth spread through me. It was something that I hadn’t experienced in a long time, and part of me wanted it. Badly. At the same time, however, I still had a hard time believing it could be real, so I ruthlessly suppressed the sudden surge of emotion, and made to continue my point.

“Anyway, Twilight, what I’m trying to say is that despite being relatively new to the whole friendship thing, you seem to have proven yourself to be a natural. After all, your fellow Element Bearers seem to think very highly of you. I think you’ll be able to mend some fences with your old Canterlot friends without much trouble.”

“Thanks, Derren,” Twilight replied with a gentle smile. “It’s good to know that you have confidence in me, at least as far as that goes.”

Twilight then let out a particularly exhausted-sounding yawn, and leaned even further into me before closing her eyes. Within minutes, the rate at which my arm and chest were being warmed by her exhalations had dwindled to a slow and steady pace.

I figured that between the stress that I had caused her by mentioning her old friends, the late night caused by my binge drinking, and the rhythmic rocking of the car as the train sped along the tracks towards Canterlot, she was pretty worn out, and had chosen to use me as a pillow.

Looking at her, a twinge of guilt shot through me for putting her through all of that. With a sad smile, I gave her withers a gentle squeeze and returned my attention to my more alert companions.

Spike still had his nose buried in his comic book, while Pinkie and Faran both bore ear-splitting grins as they looked at me. While Pinkie’s seemed more genuinely happy, there was something about Faran’s that just sent an involuntary chill down my spine.

Suspecting that her empathic ability was active, I fixed Faran with a flat stare that carried my unspoken demand. What?

She developed an arch expression, her smile never wavering. Sure enough, her mental “voice” came through clearly with that eerie seamlessness that had accompanied it the previous evening. You certainly have a way with mares. Her emerald eyes twinkled with mirth. Or at least, with Miss Sparkle there.

I responded with an unamused expression that probably made me look like I’d been sucking on a lemon ‒ a very sour lemon. What on Earth are you talking about, Faran?

Faran looked pointedly in Twilight’s direction. You should ask your hand that question.

Rolling my eyes, I did as the nurse suggested. Where I thought I’d merely been laying a comforting hand on Twilight’s withers, it turned out that I’d been unconsciously giving the muscles there a full-blown massage. Somehow, I’d been so focused on my conversation with Twilight that I hadn’t noticed the subtle shifts in the texture of her fur as my fingers worked their magic on her.

Once the realization sank in, I jerked my hand away from Twilight’s slumbering form as if scalded. For some reason, Pinkie seemed rather disappointed in this development, judging from the pout on her muzzle. I couldn’t help but shake my head and smile at her antics.

“Sorry, Pinkie. Show’s over,” I stated, playfully ruffling her mane. She let loose with a bubbly giggle before ducking away.

I took advantage of the distraction to turn my attention back to Faran. Our empathic “conversation” picked up where it left off, with a chagrined look on my face. I hope accidental massages aren’t considered a faux pas here.

Faran shook her head. Not at all. She fixed me with a flinty glare. If anything, you peeping on me while I was asleep was more egregious.

I winced in response. See, that’s probably why I’d never be selected as my world’s ambassador to yours. I spend so much time with my foot in my mouth.

Faran raised an eyebrow. If you’re trying to make amends, that’s a strange way of doing it.

I sighed, adopting a forlorn expression. No, I really do want to apologize for that. I shouldn’t have violated your privacy like that. If it makes any difference, I felt like a massive pervert the whole time I was watching you sleep.

A few moments passed in silence, both audibly and psychically, as Faran studied me ‒ presumably trying to sense any duplicity in my words. At long last, she “spoke” again: So, why did you do it, then? If you knew it was wrong, why didn’t you stop?

Another long sigh escaped me. That damnable human curiosity I mentioned at the welcome ceremony, I suppose. I heard an odd whinnying from the libr‒

Faran cut me off with an icy glare. I do not snore.

A strangled snort shot forth from me as I struggled not to laugh at what she’d said. “Really? Is that how ponies sno‒”

Faran clogged my mouth with her hoof. “I. Do. Not. Snore,” she declared with a finality that would brook no argument.

Thanking my lucky stars that she hadn’t accidentally knocked out any teeth, I decided to let my face do my talking for me. Point taken.

With a nod, Faran carefully removed her hoof from my mouth. She paused to wipe it off on the seat next to her. An awkward silence descended upon us, hanging heavily over our heads like a giant alien spacecraft pointing its oh-so-phallic guns of lasery mass destruction at the White House.

Deciding that we’d danced around each other enough, I locked eyes with Faran once more. This time, I made sure she could see the contrition on my face. I really am sorry about this, Faran. I promise to respect your privacy in the future. Think you can forgive me?

Faran sullenly stared at the seat fabric for several long moments. She then let out a long sigh and looked up at me, her eyes full of earnestness. Yes, I suppose I can forgive you. I can feel the sincerity in you when you say that you regret your actions, so I’ll let it slide this time.

A wan smile dawned on her lips. We’re probably going to be seeing each other ‒ in a professional sense, at least ‒ for a long time to come, so we may as well put our differences aside and try to be friends.

Despite how unsettled I was in my feelings for Faran, I favored her with my own tentative smile. I’d appreciate that.

Yet another crack appeared in my metaphorical armor. I could swear that I actually heard it that time. Then again, maybe one of Pinkie’s party cannons firing off at point blank range at that moment was to blame, and the “crack” I’d heard was my poor unprotected eardrums giving up the ghost.

I put my hands up to my ears to check. There was no blood, nor was there any other physical indication of trauma-induced deafness that I could detect. Then again, I wasn’t a medical professional.

It also helped that I could still hear the steady, rhythmic clacking of the train as it raced along the tracks towards our destination.

Whatever the case, the noise had startled Twilight awake, and driven Spike to cling to the ceiling of the train car like a cat. They both gazed in shock at the weapons-grade party implement Pinkie had managed to smuggle onto the train. The muzzle of the damn thing was still smoking, and we were all struggling to get free of all the confetti and streamers that had suddenly been strewn all over the compartment.

The pink party pony, however, seemed oblivious to the mess she’d made. “Yay!” She squealed happily, wrapping both me and my nurse up in an enthusiastic hug that once more had me worrying for my own bodily safety.

“Derren and Faran are friends again!” Pinkie’s enthusiasm was at once heartening and worrying.

I soon found out why I was worried. Pinkie had quickly ducked out of the group hug, and was pressing my body up against Faran’s. “Now, hug and make up!” she demanded.

Faran and I shared a long look as we broke apart, my worry mirroring hers. Might as well, I said across our empathic link, I think she’d get upset if we didn’t, and I don’t think either of us wants to make her upset.

Faran nodded in agreement. That, and she can apparently follow our empathic ‘conversations.’ She was close enough that I could practically sense her shudder, even without looking at her.

With some hesitation, I dropped to my knees to be a little more accessible for hugging. An equally nervous smile adorned Faran’s lips as she raised a foreleg and apprehensively hooked it around my right arm near the shoulder joint. Little by little, we drew closer, and she eventually rested her head on my shoulder. I could feel the gentle warmth of her body where we were touching, and her fur was just as soft as Twilight’s. I idly noted that she actually smelled fairly pleasant, like a lush and fertile field in the mountains of western Ireland after a light rain.

I gingerly reached out and draped my left arm across her withers, feeling every bit as awkward as if I’d been hugging another guy. With the tenseness I was feeling in her muscles, I could tell that Faran was of the same mind regarding what we were doing. And even though her hug was much more restrained than that of Pinkie, I could easily see Faran accidentally crushing me to death with that earth pony strength of hers if she wasn’t careful.

In spite of that, there was a strange sense of rightness as Faran and I held each other in that tentative embrace ‒ so much so that we’d clung together for longer than either of us had intended, if Twilight’s forceful clearing of her throat was any indication. We separated from each other with almost the same speed that Raindrops and I had achieved in breaking off our accidental kiss the day before.

Faran and I had trouble looking at each other for several moments after our hug ended, and to my great surprise, she actually appeared to be blushing a little. She quickly regained her composure upon sensing my gaze, fixing me with a flat stare.

She then leaned in, and in a half-whisper, said, “If you tell anyone about this‒”

“You’ll kill me?” I supplied in a voice filled with trepidation.

She looked at me as if I’d suddenly sprouted a third nipple. “I’ll deny it.”

I anxiously bobbed my head like a pigeon. “That works, too.” I could’ve sworn I was doing a damn fine impression of Vir Cotto after having been granted the authority to negotiate on his boss’s behalf.

Don’t give away the homeworld, indeed.

Somehow, that thought reminded me of my impending appointment with Doctor Silverclaw. Strange that I should be looking forward to meeting with that crazy griffon again, I thought. A lopsided grin spread across my lips. Maybe I’m the crazy one.

On that happy note, I took a seat over by the window so that I could watch the world pass by at a rapid pace as the train continued to speed towards our destination.

The sun had just disappeared below the horizon when we pulled into the train station in Canterlot, though the skies weren’t completely dark just yet. When we flew to Ponyville the day before, I hadn’t really had much of a chance to take in the layout of ponykind’s capital city, as I had been preoccupied with preparing to meet my new neighbors (among other things). This time, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity that had unexpectedly presented itself.

The city itself was situated on three giant cantilevered plates, arranged like a mountainside terrace. From my earlier excursions with Doctor Silverclaw, I knew that those plates were secured to the side of the mountain by an equally mammoth lattice of support structures that ran through a series of abandoned gem mines deep in the mountain. It was these tunnels that had allowed us to sneak out into Lower Canterlot without being seen by the general public.

I suppose there’s something to be said for not having a nudity taboo, among other things, because it took far less time to disembark from the train than it would to deboard an airplane back on Earth. Twilight, Faran, Spike, and Pinkie were waiting for me when I finally managed to collect my luggage and step out onto the station platform.

The station itself was situated on the border between two plates. The tracks that the train rode on were firmly planted on the lower tier, while the platform itself formed part of the lip of the upper plate. A tall, elegantly-decorated pedestrian bridge at each end of the platform provided access to the other side of the tracks.

As we began walking away from the platform, I happened to catch a glimpse of the lower tier from around the corner of the caboose. From what I could tell, it housed what might be politely called “the bad side of the tracks” back on Earth. From my previous excursions with Silverclaw, I knew that the support tunnels exited in an alleyway to the left, hidden from full view of the train station by the dilapidated slums assaulting my eyes. In contrast with similar low-budget housing from Earth, however, the erstwhile homes in Lower Canterlot at least looked like they had been maintained sometime in the recent past.

The “entertainment” district was blocked from view by the bulk of the train. However, I didn’t need to see to know that a particular seedy tavern named The Whickered Stallion was a mere five blocks away from the train station. I was almost certain that my griffon friend would want to go there again at some point during my visit, as it was his favorite purveyor of “wine, mares, and song,” as he put it.

Not that he’d ever partake of the second part of that phrase. He was happily married, though his wife, Giselle, apparently still lived in a place called Griffonstone. Furthermore, the owner of the bar in question had made it quite clear on our first visit that his was not one of those taverns.

I was pulled from my musings at that point by the clearing of a throat behind me. It wasn’t Twilight or any of my other companions. I turned around to face the newcomer, only to suddenly find myself almost face-to-muzzle with an armored pony ‒ presumably, another guard. The unexpected encounter caused me to let out a strangled noise and take a step back.

“Oh, sorry aboot that, Mister Knox,” the guard said in a familiar accent that had me mentally sighing, “but you were kind of off in your own little world, and I had to get your attention, eh?”

I could feel an eyebrow rising in bemusement. Of all the guards I could come across in Equestria, I had to get the one that sounded like a goddamned Canadian stereotype.

Mentally shaking my head at this turn of events, I took the opportunity to get a better look at the guard I’d nearly run into. He was about as big as Applejack’s brother, and his slate gray coat was mostly obscured by the heavy armor he wore. Two things stood out about him: one was the fact that his armor was a sort of burnished dark purple ‒ or at least would have been in the full light of day. As it was now, it verged on a very dark, almost black shade, almost the total opposite of the gold-plated armor the guards I’d seen previously usually wore.

The other oddity that jumped out at me was actually a pair of oddities: his eyes and his wings. The yellow irises of his eyes had a more feline shape to them, and instead of standard feathery pegasus wings, it seemed that nature had seen fit to issue him a pair of leathery, batlike appendages.

He wasn’t alone, either. A small squad of about ten guards accompanied him, and were it not for the fact that roughly half were clearly mares, I would’ve sworn they were clones of the Mountie before me.

“Anywho, I suppose I should introduce myself, eh?” he said, prompting a mental eye roll at his manner of speech. “I’m Lieutenant Molson, of the Nightwatch Division of the Canterlot Royal Guard.”

“Really? Because I would’ve taken you for more of a Labatt, myself,” I said with strained snort, barely resisting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of this particular parallel. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught both Twilight and Faran burying their faces in their hooves at my quip. I didn’t think they’d get the reference. Most likely, it was the distinctly American pronunciation I’d given the name that had set them off.

Without batting an eye, the lieutenant replied with utmost sincerity, “Oh, no. That’s my second-in-command.”

If I’d been drinking something, I would’ve done a spit take.

Worse, this reaction was not lost on Molson, who bore a small, knowing smile as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Without further ado, he raised a hoof to his lips and whistled shrilly. “Hey, Sergeant. I want you to meet our VIP, eh.”

One of the mares trotted over, wearing armor that was a bit more ornate than the rest of the squad, but not quite near the level of her commanding officer. Like the other guards I’d seen, she was wearing a tail wrap as part of her uniform. Hers stood out by virtue of its color. While Molson’s was a dull golden color, and the rest of the squad’s was a dull purple ‒ some with a silver stripe ‒ hers was a bright, solid silver. My best guess was that the color of the tail wrap served as some sort of rank insignia, but I couldn’t be sure without asking. And considering the body part in question, I didn’t want to risk a diplomatic incident over idle curiosity.

The pony that Molson had summoned came to a halt about a yard away and crisply saluted. “Sergeant Labatt, reporting as ordered,” she stated in a professional tone.

I mentally groaned at noticing that her accent matched the lieutenant’s.

Molson returned the salute just as crisply. “At ease, sergeant.” He jerked his head in my direction. “I’d like for you to meet Mister Derren Knox. He’s the first of his kind in Equestria, and the princesses have granted him special status.”

The mare turned to me, her blood red, cat-like eyes boring into my hazel irises as if sizing me up. After a few moments of silent contemplation, during which I was beginning to get somewhat nervous, a broad smile suddenly burst forth on her muzzle.

“Pleased to meet ya, Mister Knox,” she said, extending a hoof.

“Likewise,” I intoned mechanically, shaking the proffered hoof with perhaps one-fifth of the firmness I would’ve normally applied.

“If you have any questions at all, feel free to ask. We’re here to serve and protect, after all.”

“Right,” my reply was still as stilted as before. However, one question did happen to spring to mind at the invitation to ask. “So, are the wings and eyes natural, or an enchantment?”

The sergeant’s smile didn’t dim in the slightest. “Oh, they’re an enchantment. The wings allow us to fly silently and get the drop on ne’er-do-wells and all, don’cha know.”

“I’m guessing the eyes are for improved night vision.”

Labatt favored the lieutenant with a smile. “He’s rather quick on the uptake, eh?”

“Indeed,” Molson replied, “But I think it’d be best if we moved along, eh?” He turned to face me. “We want to get you to the castle with as little hubbub as possible.”

My companions and I looked at each other, matching expressions of worry written on our faces. “You’re not expecting trouble, are you, Lieutenant?” I asked.

“No, but it would be better for everyone if we got a move on, eh?”

I nodded. “Very well, then.” I indicated the castle looming over the whole city in the distance with a sweeping hand gesture. “Lead the way.”

We set off down one of the main streets of Middle Canterlot, heading away from the train station and the slums beyond it. The guards formed a loose circle around us, as if to shield us from prying eyes. As we walked through the gathering gloom, our course marked by the warm light of several Dickensian street lamps, I took in as much of the local architecture as I could.

Most of the area near the station appeared to have been given over to a commercial district. While I couldn’t read several of the signs due to a combination of the time of day and my current level of skill with written Equestrian, I could clearly see some of the wares available for purchase in the dimly lit windows.

There wasn’t a whole lot of time for window shopping, however, as our brisk pace quickly took us to a fork in the road at the northern end of the stolidly functional, Victorian-style edifices that served as the face of modern Equestrian business. Ahead of us lay a path that led directly to the palace. To the right, the modest homes of hundreds of solidly middle-class families backed up against the mountainside. To the left, the garish opulence of the Platinum District assaulted the eyes from behind the safety of a twenty foot-high gold-plated, wrought iron enclosure that wouldn’t have been out of place in a ritzy neighborhood back on Earth.

From that point, it was only a ten minute walk to reach the edge of the uppermost terrace, which was solely dedicated to the palace grounds. Lieutenant Molson vouched for us at the castle gates, and we were led inside with little fuss.

In the grand foyer of the castle, we were met by Shining Armor and Princess Cadance, along with a few unicorns whose stuffy-looking attire marked them as part of the castle staff. Unbidden, the staffers swept up our belongings in their telekinetic fields and carried them away to rooms that they said had been prepared for us.

Being received by the Princess of Love and her husband wasn’t too surprising, given what I had been told about my status the last time I was in Canterlot. What was surprising, however, was the ritual with which Twilight and Cadance greeted each other.

“Sunshine, sunshine!” they intoned while prancing in place.

“Ladybugs awake!” They dropped to their bellies and made a little “peek-a-boo” motion with their hooves.

“Clap your hooves ‒” they played patty cake with their forehooves.

“‒ And do a little shake!” They wiggled their rumps at each other. I had been standing off to one side, watching the whole spectacle. When they got to this part, however, I had to avert my eyes. Twilight’s jiggling hindquarters were causing her tail to sway from side to side, offering glimpses of everything she had to offer.

It was purple.

Thankfully, the little show was at the end of their routine. When they were done, they descended into gleeful laughter and shared a sisterly embrace. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a soft, strangely wistful smile on Faran’s lips as she took in the scene. Pinkie, of course, was being Pinkie: soaking up the palpable joy with a wide grin splitting her muzzle.

And though Spike kind of looked like he wished he could be anywhere else right at that moment, the slight smile on his face told me that he was enduring the boredom caused by not being the center of attention far better than many human children would.

“It’s good to see you again, Twilight,” Cadance said as the pair separated. The elation on her muzzle quickly morphed into concern, however. “I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

“I wasn’t aware you’d been informed of my situation, Your Highness,” I replied.

Cadance’s smile was tinged with a slight sadness as she came over to me. “I am a ruling princess, Derren. I’m just as much a part of the government as my adoptive aunts, and can fill in for them if necessary.”

A delicate, downy sensation across my arm and part of my back caused me to look down. Cadance had draped one her wings over me. “I’m sorry to hear about your condition,” she said, her voice full of warm compassion, “but if there’s anypony who can figure out what’s going on, it’s Twilight. I’m sure she’ll get to the bottom of this mystery.”

I merely nodded. “Thanks, Princess. I appreciate it.”

She looked at me a bit askance. “Please, Derren. Call me Cadance. All of my friends do, and any friend of Twilight is my friend, as well.”

I let out a sigh and smiled weakly at her. “I’ll try, Pri‒ Er, Cadance.”

I only stumbled slightly at the name, but it was good enough to earn me the full force of the princess’s winning smile. “That’s better,” she replied before cheekily hip checking me.

“Hey, knock it off!” I admonished, casting a nervous glance in Shining Armor’s direction as I hastily backed away from his wife’s overly affectionate gesture.

Strangely, the stallion didn’t seem to mind, if his unperturbed gaze and slight smile were any indication.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Derren,” Twilight replied. “You know that ponies are more prone to physical displays of affection than humans, and Cadance has always been more affectionate than the average pony.”

“Especially where Shiny is concerned,” Cadance added, favoring her husband with a smoldering gaze as she trotted up to him. They engaged in a brief, but passionate kiss that left even me a little hot under the collar.

“Maybe so,” I conceded as I tried ‒ and failed ‒ to subtly fan myself with my shirt, “But I was brought up believing that you don’t play around with another man’s wife. Especially when that man is a powerful unicorn.”

Shining and his wife both chuckled at that. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about in that regard,” he said, favoring Cadance with a loving smile as he draped a hoof over her withers.

“Yes, well, I-I’m happy you two have such a strong bond, really,” I stammered uselessly, “but perhaps we should continue this discussion as we walk.” A low growl emanated from my stomach. “Preferably towards the dining hall.”

After everyone had had a good chuckle at my expense, Shining nodded. “Perhaps,” he agreed, gesturing with a foreleg down the corridor. “This way, please.”

Our group quickly fell into step alongside the royal couple as we walked through the brightly-lit halls away from the castle entrance. Of course, in Pinkie’s case, it was more of her usual highly energetic bouncing as she easily kept pace with the rest of us. We navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the palace in an uneasy silence for some time before Twilight spoke up.

“Not to sound like I’m not happy to see you two again, Cadance,” she said, “but I’m kind of surprised that neither Princess Celestia nor Princess Luna are here to meet us.”

“It’s okay, Twilight,” Cadance replied, “I understand. Unfortunately, Princess Luna is involved in trade negotiations with the minotaur ambassador, and the meeting is expected to run pretty late tonight. Princess Celestia has retired to her private study for the evening, and asked not to be disturbed.”

“That’s a little odd,” Twilight muttered, “She always seems to have time for me, no matter what’s going on.”

Cadance nodded. “I know what you mean. I asked her about it, and all she would tell me is that it had something to do with Derren’s arrival in Equestria.”

“Me?” I asked in a tone full of incredulity. “Why me?”

Shining Armor chose that moment to speak up. “She wouldn’t say, except to mention that it might be important to Equestria’s future.”

To say that I didn’t like the implications of that declaration would be the understatement of the century. I buried my face in a palm and let out a low groan. “Please tell me that I’m not some clichéd Chosen One destined to save Equestria from a horrible fate.”

“From the way she spoke of it, she didn’t seem to think so,” Cadance answered. “It was almost as if there were bigger concerns on her mind.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness for small favors. I have enough on my plate already without adding the burden of being this world’s Neo.”

“Who?” Twilight asked, scrunching up her muzzle and looking for all the world like she’d just smelled a fart.

“Never mind,” I replied, shaking my head and letting out a small sigh. “Human movie reference.”

“Ah,” she said blandly.

Something about what Cadance had said still didn’t sit right with me. “Why wouldn’t Celestia tell me about this?” I asked, gazing pointedly at the princess. “If there’s something about my arrival that impacts this world, I think I’d have the right to know the details.”

“She didn’t want to say anything without being sure,” Cadance replied, “In the past, there have been ponies that had a degree of clairvoyance, able to see ‘echoes’ of things that may or may not come to pass. I suppose that you could call their visions prophecies, to some extent.”

“Unfortunately,” Twilight continued, “while many of these ponies could ‘see’ thousands of years into the future, their predictions were often vague, or worse, inconsistent. And as if that weren’t enough, many of these ponies were…” She paused with a frown, tapping her chin with a hoof. “Well, they weren’t quite right in the head, so their predictions were often dismissed as the ravings of madponies.”

“I’m guessing that not many of these prophecies were written down,” I said, completely deadpan.

“A few were, but the vast majority were lost to history,” Twilight admitted, “However, there was one pony who was fascinated by the idea of being able to predict the future, and set out to make a science out of it. You might recall that many of his accomplishments were either not recorded, or misattributed to his protege due to the prevailing sexism of the times, among other things.”

For some reason, that last comment got Cadance to shoot a knowing, salacious-looking grin at her husband. She whispered something in his ear. Given the bright claret color that suddenly blossomed on his white-furred cheeks and the strangled snort he emitted, I could only assume that it was something highly naughty.

Preferring to ignore the married couple’s innuendo, I pondered the news Twilight had given me with a bemused frown and furrowed eyebrows. “Starswirl the Bearded?”

“That’s the one,” Twilight declared proudly, complete with a smug grin.

“So, what does he have to do with the events surrounding my arrival?”

“I’m getting to that,” Twilight retorted, shooting me a reproachful glare that was enhanced by the irritated downturn of her ears.

“Sorry. Please, continue.”

“Starswirl determined that while it was impossible to predict the actions of an individual sapient being, one could use statistical and mathematical models to predict the evolution of whole societies, much like statistical models can be used to accurately predict the mass action of a gas.”

I shot Twilight a look. “You’re talking about psychohistory.”

Twilight’s reaction made me wish I had my cell phone with me so that I could take a picture. “You know about it?” she inquired, shock warring with awe on her features.

I merely shrugged. “It features prominently in one of the classic science fiction series from my world. It stayed in the realm of science fiction because nobody could figure out how to make an actual science out of it. Am I to assume that Starswirl actually managed that feat?”

Twilight nodded, a sly smile on her muzzle. “He used it to successfully predict Nightmare Moon’s return.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “She didn’t mention it to me until recently, but according to Princess Celestia, that’s what I found in that copy of Predictions and Prophecies when she sent me to Ponyville to meet my friends.”

I was silent for the next minute as I thought about what Twilight had just told me, as well as its implications. “So, what? Does this mean that Celestia is worried that some aspect of my arrival may presage the pony version of a Seldon Crisis?”

Twilight shared a brief, meaningful look with Cadance and Shining Armor. “It would depend on what you mean by that.” she said.

“Long story short, it’s a social or political situation, typically involving a combination of external and internal threats that arise simultaneously, with both threats being resolved by a single action. These crises are generally predictable through the use of psychohistory.”

An anxious look crossed Twilight’s face, and her voice trembled slightly as she responded. “Ah, that sounds a bit like what we call a ‘Starswirl Contingency.’” She gave a visible shudder, as if the possible implications were especially worrisome. “Well, if Princess Celestia is looking at her collection of obscure history and prophecy, then it’s certainly possible. I don’t think it’d be a good idea to baselessly speculate, though.”

Her voice brightened considerably with her next statement. “I’m sure that if Princess Celestia finds something related to you specifically, especially in that context, she’ll let you know.”

“Let’s just hope she’s not as cryptic about it with me as she was with you regarding the return of Nightmare Moon,” I grumbled.

Canterlot was especially chilly that night, but it didn’t bother Lieutenant Molson and his crew as they winged their way through the skies above the capital city. Pegasi were by nature more resistant than the other two tribes to extremes of temperature, and the enchantments on the Nightwatch Division’s armor provided further insulation against the cold.

Molson pondered the snowy streets below as his course took him low over the steeply sloped, shingled roofs and soot-blackened chimneys of the residences in the Hurricane District. His powerful wings beat the air silently, changing their angle to bring him into a hover by the time he reached the boundary between Middle and Lower Canterlot.

This newcomer, this… human, seemed like an okay fellow. He’d been pretty quiet for most of the trip from the station to the castle, but Molson figured he was still in awe of his new surroundings.

If Molson was being honest, he worried a little for the guy. From the briefing he’d been given by Captain Nightwing, head of the Nightwatch Division, he knew that the human wasn’t used to being around intelligent equines, among other things. He couldn’t begin to imagine how such a mind would handle the full enormity of everything it was being asked to absorb, understand, and accept all at once. It kind of reminded him of…

Molson was pulled from his thoughts by a slight turbulence against his wings, accompanied by a familiar feminine voice. “Loony for your thoughts, Boss?”

The lieutenant smiled and turned to his second-in-command. “Just thinking about that VIP earlier, Sergeant.”

“Care for a fly-and-talk?” Labatt enquired with a sly smile.

Molson’s smile brightened. “Sure thing, eh.”

They made a lazy circuit of Lower Canterlot that gradually tightened into a spiral, with a certain seedy tavern at the center. A few moments into their patrol route, Molson spoke again.

“He’s a good seed, y’know.”

Labatt blinked. “The human?”

The lieutenant nodded, a slight smile dawning on his muzzle. “It kinda feels like he’s got a lot on his mind right now, but I think he’ll do fine in Equestria.”

Labatt’s left eyebrow quirked upward, her curiosity piqued. “Why do you say that, Boss?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but he wasn’t exactly being what you’d call sociable. In fact, he seemed to have a sort of overawed expression on his muzzle, kind of like somepony who is experiencing culture shock.”

Labatt’s head listed to port, and her eyebrow rose even higher. “How could you tell? I’d like to think I’m pretty good at reading folks, even those who aren’t ponies, but he’s pretty hard to read, what with those beady little eyes and all.”

Molson let out a rueful-sounding chuckle as they approached the center of their spiralling patrol route. “Let’s just say that I may have had a similar experience during my first tour in Deerheim. It took my CO ordering me to get my head out of my dock to cure it.”

“So, you’re saying he just needs a kick in the flank, and he’ll be alright?” Labatt’s inquiry was accompanied by a goofy grin.

“Something like that.” Molson’s grin was equally goofy.

The calm, mostly silent atmosphere was shattered by the sergeant’s loud laughter. “Well, if he ever tries his hooves at court politics, that’d definitely give him a much-needed buck to the head, eh?”

Molson rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, sure. You betcha.”

He would have commented further, but a movement in his peripheral vision drew his attention.

“Speak of the draconequus…” he muttered.

As if on cue, Labatt followed his gaze. They were hovering over a building that looked for all the world as if all the joy had been sucked out of it, and had subsequently decided that sagging against the buildings around it was a much better use of its time than going out and facing the cold, harsh world.

In an alleyway not far from the building, a unicorn stallion with a salmon coat and overly-coiffed silvery mane and tail appeared to be talking to a pair of strange unicorn stallions. The guardsponies were too far away to hear anything, but the way the ponies below were frequently casting furtive glances around the alleyway suggested that they were up to something.

The larger of the two shady stallions bore an ash gray coat. His dull orange mane didn’t start until well past his poll ‒ were he human, he would be considered mostly bald. Nevertheless, it was long enough at the point where it still grew that he often bound it up in a ponytail. The scar tissue around his left eye ‒ a trio of parallel furrows ‒ spoke of a rough encounter with a griffon, which served to add to his intimidating presence.

His companion, on the other hand, had a more weasel-like build, which was made even more apparent by his tawny coat and light amber mane and tail. His dull yellow eyes, constantly in motion as if ever in search of a potential escape route, made him seem perpetually jaundiced in the eyes of an untrained observer. Despite his less-than-intimidating stature, however, there also lurked a dangerously intelligent glint in his eyes that wasn’t readily apparent until somepony dared to cross him. His cutie mark consisted of a simply styled gray weasel.

“That’s Count Silken Words,” Labatt whispered harshly, pointing a hoof at the meticulously groomed stallion.

Molson frowned. “He’s a bit out of his comfort zone, especially given his public statements about the less fortunate. What’s he doing in Lower Canterlot?”

“Maybe if we were to get closer, we’d be able to hear what they’re saying. Besides, those other ponies look like trouble.”

Molson was silent for a moment, still watching the hushed exchange below. “Alright,” he eventually said, pointing a hoof at a nearby overhang that looked like it might give them some cover while they were eavesdropping. “We’ll watch from there, but we’ll do it stealth-like, eh?”

“Right.”

With that, the two guardsponies focused their flight magic, activating an enchantment that they hadn’t bothered mentioning to the human they’d escorted to the castle. If one were to look at the two, one would have noticed the air around them shimmering like a mirage before seemingly swallowing them whole.

Once they were certain that the optical camouflage enchantment was firmly in place, they silently glided down to their pre-designated surveillance post. It wasn’t long before they could hear their target speaking.

“‒pleasure doing business with such fine, upstanding gentlecolts as yourselves,” came the folksy drawl that was the count’s voice.

The taller of the two thuggish stallions merely nodded, then lit his horn in a muted dust color that matched the big ball of violence that constituted his cutie mark. A modest sack of bits that had previously escaped the notice of of the invisible witnesses lit up in the same color and lifted itself into the air as he and his partner trotted off. Shortly thereafter, Silken Words also left the alleyway, muttering to himself as he took a different route from his co-conspirators.

Once they were out of earshot, the two guardsponies dropped their cloak.

“Aww, ponyfeathers,” Labatt swore, “We were too late.”

Molson winced briefly. Sergeant Labatt generally had a good head on her withers, but she could also be a little… excitable. “I’m afraid that’s so, Sergeant,” he said evenly.

“You don’t suppose those three were up to something, do you?”

Molson gave a noncommittal shrug. “Hard to say without something solid to go on. For all we know, he could’ve been digging up dirt on a political rival.”

Labatt’s eyes widened, and her pupils shrank to pinpricks. “You mean, kind of like how Coco Drop got caught artificially hiking the stock price of Appleloosan Trail due to insider knowledge?”

A nod and knowing smile were her commanding officer’s only response.

Labatt could feel her eyebrow rising up to meet her forelock. “Surely, you’re not suggesting that the rumors are true, are you?”

Molson shook his head. “Can’t say for sure. There’s never been any solid evidence that he got that info and used it to force her from office. But if what we just saw is any indication, he’s not above it, either.”

Molson’s words sent Labatt’s mind into a tailspin. Perhaps she hadn’t been that far off with her speculation after all. And worse, she was certain that she recognized the count’s associates. Now would be a good time to bring her worries up with her commander.

“That’s not all, sir.”

“Oh?” Molson’s eyebrow quirked up, and his features fell slightly.

“I can’t say for sure, but I think I’ve seen those other stallions before.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Sergeant,” Molson replied in a tone that was equal parts encouraging and exhorting.

A low sigh escaped Labatt’s muzzle. “I’m not entirely sure about that wiry one, but I know I’ve seen that brute working as a bouncer at one of Technically Legal’s clubs the last few times I was there.”

“Really, now?” Molson’s tone was arch. “Do tell.”

Heat burned in Labatt’s cheeks, and a pink tinge invaded the fur on her muzzle. “I-I didn’t mean it that way, sir!” she spluttered. “I was only there to pick up ponies who’d gotten a bit too rowdy and take them to the drunk tank. Nothing more, I swear!”

Molson barked out a long laugh. “At ease, Sergeant. I was just teasing you.” He quickly adopted a serious expression. “If the good count is consorting with Technically Legal’s collection of hosers, then he may be up to something, indeed. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough evidence to get permission to tail any of them.”

“So, what do we do?” Labatt demanded.

Molson shook his head and let out a sigh of regret. “We can’t do anything at the moment. Until we get solid proof that they’re about to commit a crime, I can’t even condone an unofficial investigation.”

“What if someone were to provide an anonymous tip?”

A long silence ensued during which Molson leveled Labatt with a searching gaze. Eventually, he spoke.

“It would have to be truly anonymous. Nothing can link it back up with our department.” Molson’s gaze hardened. “That means no running off to play Shadow Spade, Sergeant. Am I clear?”

Labatt visibly chafed at the restrictions, but she quickly realized that there was no help for it ‒ not through official channels, at any rate. “As crystal, sir.”

Even as she said those words, however, Labatt’s mind was quickly forming a plan involving unofficial channels. Specifically, a certain former secret agent rumored to be living in Ponyville...

For the second time since my arrival in Equestria, I was conscious of the cool, clammy gel and the slight pressure of adhesive gauze keeping the electrodes of various monitoring equipment in place. While I was used to being poked and prodded by doctors and nurses, it was too early in the morning for any civilized being to be subjected to such treatment. Doctor Silverclaw and Nurse Faran had insisted, however, and the duo was not to be denied.

It was a little unnerving just how many devices I had been attached to. They’d even hooked me up to the magical output sensor whose name I’d forgotten, and as far as I knew, it was still measuring the magic in me ‒ precisely nil, as expected.

“Alright, Meeester Knox,” came the very distinct voice of my doctor. As always, his flamboyant Eastern European-esque accent had me imagining him with a peacock hairstyle, despite how ridiculous it would’ve looked on his feathered head. “All the monitors are set up.”

A sly smile dawned on his beak ‒ something that still baffled me despite all the time I’d spent with him the last time I was in Canterlot. “I know you’re eager to get this test done and get back to your life, but as you might put it, you’re going to have to put your shirt on while I go retrieve Miss Sparkle.”

“I think you mean, keep my shirt on, Doc,” I corrected, my wan smile seeming more like a grimace. I was once again decked out in a powder blue hospital gown. This time, Ruby Weave had seen fit to provide the castle medical staff with suitable attire for my unique anatomy, so I didn’t have to worry about indecent exposure.

“Yes, that,” Silverclaw replied in a sort of mock-cavalier manner, the twinkle in his left eye giving the game away. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the star of our little show.” So saying, he marched out the door of the examination room while whistling a jaunty tune.

Faran merely rolled her eyes at the doctor’s behavior as she continued to jot down notes with a quill held firmly in her mouth. After a few moments, she set the quill down and looked at me. “You two seem to be getting along famously,” she eventually said, a slight crooked smile on her muzzle.

I blew out an amused huff of air. “I think it’s more of an odd friendship, if anything.” With a shrug, I added, “He’s a pretty decent fellow, though. The only weird thing about him is that his accent makes him sound like a character from my world’s science fiction. I keep expecting that at some point, he’ll slip and accidentally call me” ‒ here, my expression broadened and my voice changed into a passable imitation of the good doctor ‒ “‘Meeester Garibaldi.’”

“I’m just going to have to take your word for it,” Faran replied, eyes and muzzle crumpling in bemusement.

My face fell slightly at her reaction. “That’s just one more thing for me to get used to,” I said morosely. “I have to constantly remind myself that I’m the only one who will ever fully understand a lot of the references I make. Hell, even some of the everyday expressions I use when not trying to be funny are so thoroughly marinated in my world’s culture that the full impact would be lost in explaining them.” I sighed. “I suppose it’s my cross to bear.”

Faran opened her mouth to respond, but promptly shut it again as her ear twitched in the direction of the opening door. We both turned in time to see Twilight walking in behind Silverclaw. The studious mare had her muzzle buried in a book that was held in her magenta telekinetic field alongside a cup of warm, steaming liquid that smelled strongly of tea.

I was distracted from the approaching pair by something hard nudging me in the ribs. Faran was looking at me with a serious, yet clearly concerned expression. Relax, Mister Knox. We’re professionals. She cast an odd glance in Twilight’s direction. Well, two of us are, at any rate.

I gave the nurse a flat stare. Be nice.

Faran let out a small sigh. As you wish.

My face brightened considerably. Atta girl.

Faran’s only response was to give a derisive snort and whack me with her tail as she trotted over to her station near the monitoring equipment. Silverclaw had reached me, and was ready with a dizzying array of medical equipment for whatever weirdness might present itself during the exam.

Between the two of them stood Twilight, still mulling over the dense tome of Equestrian magical knowledge that she’d borrowed from the Canterlot Archives after we’d finished dinner the previous evening. She absentmindedly took the occasional sip of her tea as she read, re-read, and read yet again. After some time, she finally set both the book and the tea down on a nearby desk and looked at each of us in turn.

“If we’re going to find out what’s going on with Derren’s connection to Equis’ harmonic magic field,” she said without preamble, “I’m going to need to start with a baseline scan. And while I may not be a doctor, I went over the procedure with Doctor Saddleton several times last night to make sure I had it right. It should be perfectly harmless.”

“Shouldn’t I have to sign a waiver or something, in case it’s not?” I murmured.

Twilight shot me a highly unamused stare.

“R-Right,” I stammered meekly. “Shutting up now.”

“Thank you,” she replied in a long-suffering tone. She then closed her eyes and concentrated. Her horn lit up in its warm magenta glow again, accompanied by the ethereal chimes that seemed to always play whenever unicorn magic was active. A wide beam that matched the color of her magical aura passed above me, then slowly made its way over me. I could feel a slight tingling in my skin as the beam ran down from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, then made its way up once more.

So far, there had been no ill effects. Faran was dutifully scribbling notes as fast as her agile tongue could work the quill. Every now and then, she’d pause her writing just long enough to glance at one of the many machines that I was hooked up to before resuming her record-keeping.

After a bit, Faran nodded to Silverclaw. “Alright, Miss Sparkle,” he said grandly, “We’re ready for Phase Two whenever you are.”

“What’s Phase Two?”

“I’m glad you asked, Derren,” Twilight chirped happily, “This spell places an amniomorphic tracer on your connection to the planet’s harmonic magic field, which is then translated into an image by cross-referencing the thaumic resonance ‒” her explanation was quickly lost in a sea of arcane technical jargon that set my teeth on edge.

“Just a one-sentence summary will do, Twilight,” I said.

She spent a moment blankly staring at me before adopting a suitably sheepish grin. “Oh. Um, well, it basically will project any hallucinations you encounter into a holographic display that we can see.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Eeyup,” she said with a smile.

“Well, then. Fire away.”

And that was precisely what she did. The arcane bolt she fired smacked me solidly in the chest, but aside from letting out a grunt at impact, there seemed to be no physical effects. After a few moments, my vision developed a strong fuchsia tint to it as the spell activated. Another beam of light shot forth from my body, expanding into a three-dimensional window whose edges carried the same glow that was emanating from my body. Within the window, there was only a solid, inky blackness.

“Okay, Derren,” Twilight said, “Try and connect to the planet’s harmonic magic field. Just concentrate, like you did with Vinyl Scratch’s equipment the other night.”

A long sigh escaped me. “Okay then. Hold onto your butts.”

And that’s when the weirdness began. As soon as I closed my eyes and concentrated on the psychic radio receiver that served as my connection to the planet’s harmonic magic field, a strange humming reached my ears ‒ one that I’d yet to hear from any of the medical instruments attached to me.

“That’s odd,” Faran murmured.

“What is?” I asked, my voice tinged with worry. I’d cracked my eyes open for a moment, and the humming stopped.

The nurse shook her head. “Never mind. Whatever it was, it’s gone now. Maybe I was seeing things.”

Twilight walked over to Faran’s station. “Hmm,” she murmured, “Do you mind if I watch over it with you, Faran? Maybe I can provide some insight.”

Faran shook her head again. “I think I can handle it, Miss Sparkle.”

Silverclaw spoke up at that point. “I’m sure it’s just a glitch. We’ll figure it out later.”

Everyone in the room looked back at me as they took up their positions once more. “Alright,” I said with a long sigh, “Take two.”

Once again, I made the connection to Harmony, as I was coming to call the planet’s secondary magic field. Once again, the strange humming resumed.

“Definitely not a glitch, this time,” Faran reported. “The arcano-psychrometer’s showing a reading in the upper H-band.”

“Upper H-band?” Silverclaw queried. I risked cracking one eye open, and found him with his own eyes closed, tapping his beak with a talon in thought. He marched over to Faran’s station and glanced at the expensive-looking device that until now had failed to detect anything from me.

“Yes, there it is,” Silverclaw drawled, jabbing a particular point on the display. “That’s definitely the right frequency to indicate a connection with the harmonic magic field during a Harmony Song. Interesting that the damn thing’s never picked up anything from him without a connection to the field.”

“It proves what he’s been saying, for sure,” Faran supplied. “In the absence of a Harmony Song, or any other manifestation of the field’s power‒”

“He has no magic,” Twilight finished. She then looked at me with what appeared to be a mixture of awe and pity. “Wow,” she breathed, “That’s something no other sapient race on Equis can say. You really are from another world…”

Thank you, Captain Obvious, I mentally groused, rolling my eyes.

Unfortunately, the fireworks weren’t done yet. Right then, my vision suddenly filled with white. Faran shouted, “We’ve got a harmonic spike!”

I suddenly felt myself lifted off the ground, my arms slowly extending outwards until I was sure I was doing a passable impression of Jesus on the cross. My mouth was suddenly wrenched open by an unknown force, a slight pulling sensation tugging at my jaw. I have no words to describe it, but somehow, I could feel raw power streaming out of my eyes and mouth in the general direction of where I had seen the holographic viewer that Twilight’s magic had created.

Eventually, the light show died down, and I crumpled to the floor. The rhythmic thudding of two sets of hooves and the rapid beat of wings rang in my ears as Twilight, Faran, and Silverclaw approached.

“Are you alright?” Twilight’s voice was full of concern, worry, and a little bit of guilt as Silverclaw did a quick check with his stethoscope to make sure I was alright.

I shook my head clear of the cobwebs, and placed my hand in Faran’s outstretched hoof to accept her unspoken offer of assistance in getting to my feet. “I think so. Why? What happened?”

“You experienced what’s known as a harmonic spike, Meeester Knox,” Silverclaw replied. “It’s when your body receives and releases a powerful surge of harmonic magic in a small fraction of time. A little unsettling, perhaps, but ultimately nothing to worry about.”

“But outside of using the Elements of Harmony, it almost never happens on its own like that,” Twilight countered.

“It’s also not nearly as powerful as the Elements when it does happen,” Faran said, already back at her station. “That little surge topped out at thirteen and thirty-two hundredths kiloclovers.”

Twilight blanched. “That’s only five hundredths of a kiloclover less than a direct blast from the Elements!”

I felt the sudden urge to facepalm, and after a struggle, gave in. “Please don’t tell me that I just caused something important to happen,” I said, massaging my temples in an attempt to ward off a massive headache.

“I’m afraid it’s a little late for that,” Silverclaw replied, pointing a talon at the magical holographic viewer.

Where there had only been inky blackness before, it had been replaced with an image that was becoming increasingly familiar from my previous Harmony-induced hallucinations. The flame-haired mystery woman was now on full display in the viewer. Whereas before I had only been treated to images of her from the neck up, I now found myself looking at her whole body. I could feel my cheeks suddenly heat up, and it wasn’t hard for me to surmise why.

The mystery woman was as naked as the day she was born. She was fairly attractive, too. Her supple hips had curves in all the right places, and her chest bore ample, natural C-cup breasts that would’ve filled out any shirt she wore rather nicely without falling into gag boob territory.

I felt a familiar tightness forming in my pants. It was only with considerable difficulty that I was able to tear my eyes away from the image when Twilight spoke up.

“This is what a human female looks like?”

I nodded. “More or less. Obviously, there’s going to be some variances in things like height, breast size, and general torso shape, but for the most part, you could consider her to be a fair representation of the fairer sex.” I gazed wistfully at the woman a little longer before continuing. “She’s actually quite beautiful, by human standards. If it weren’t for the fact that I feel like I already know her somehow, I wouldn’t mind being friends with her.”

Faran snorted derisively. “That’s because she’s completely nude,” she grumbled, having obviously spotted my reaction.

I shot Faran a flat stare. “She could be dressed in a nun’s habit, and I’d still find her pretty.”

We stood mutely as we pondered the mysterious vision in the viewer. For several long moments, the only sound was the steady thrumming of the arcano-psychrometer as it continued to record my connection to Harmony. Eventually, the psychic radio receiver in my head crackled to life once more. This time, it was playing the familiar strains of an acoustic guitar. I recognized the melody at once, and before I knew it, I found myself singing to the woman in the viewer.

In the back of my mind, I pondered the oddity of singing to a projected image of someone I couldn’t recall ever knowing. I knew from earlier attempts to recall events immediately prior to my arrival in Equestria that this wasn’t a random image gleaned from some porn site, or anything like that. For some reason though, that day, and whatever role this woman had in the events of that day had been sufficiently traumatic that whenever I tried to recall it, I ended up puking my guts out.

And as the song continued, I found myself wishing that I knew just why I was singing like this.

At long last, the song came to an end, punctuated by an odd sniffling. Turning towards the source, my jaw dropped in shock to discover the cause: Faran. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and from the way she was biting her lip, it seemed that she was just barely keeping it together.

I was faced with a conundrum at that point: do I reach out and offer a comforting gesture to someone with whom I’ve had a largely adversarial relationship, or do I let her suffer in silence?

Letting out a long sigh, I came to my decision. We may have had our differences, but I couldn’t in good conscience bear to see her in distress. Not when I could do something about it. Besides, in an odd sort of way, I felt like I owed her my life. It was the least I could do to repay the favor.

She was wiping her eyes as I reached out to her. The moment my hand gently touched her shoulder, however, she tensed up. I flinched as she rounded on me, only to be surprised to find gratitude warring with suspicion on her features.

She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a new development.

The viewer flashed white, drawing everyone’s attention. The mystery woman had been joined by an olive-colored earth pony stallion. Judging from the reactions, neither Twilight nor Silverclaw knew him. As for Faran…

Faran looked as if she had literally seen a ghost. Her jaw had dropped in shock, and she was trembling mightily. She swallowed a lump in her throat, seemingly on the verge of tears once more.

And as if that wasn’t enough, I could sense the Music of Harmony activating again. As before, the song was familiar, but this time, the role of vocals was not left to anyone physically present in the room, but to the strange figures in the viewer:

Faran barely made it to the first chorus before the emotional turmoil became too much for her. She fled the room, sobbing piteously. Her keening wails rang in my ears long after she had disappeared.

I wasn’t faring much better, if the stinging in my eyes and sudden buildup of mucous in my nose was any indication. And yet, I somehow managed to soldier through the whole song. When it was over, I excused myself to find a bathroom.

As I was leaving, I heard an audibly perturbed Silverclaw say to Twilight, “I think we’ve seen enough for one day.”

Author's Notes:

I wonder who saw that bit of character development coming...

The song Derren taught Pinkie as his punishment for breaking his Pinkie Promise:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYOKMUTTDdA

The first Harmony Song during the exam:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoknkWbyan4

The second Harmony Song during the exam:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DChHEf0lpEE