Somewhere far away, in a small underground room...

A tall, slender stallion stood atop what could only be described as a throne. The magnificent chair lined the back wall from ceiling to floor, with a raised platform in front on which the stallion stood, eyes closed. His bronze-coloured wings brushed against the back, which was painted in slightly reflective tones that matched his feathers and coat to a T. The room was illuminated by the dancing flames on torches affixed to the walls, held up by gnarled metal holders that jutted out from the stone-brick surfaces. Their light also reflected off two more thrones, both to the left of the one in which the stallion sat, each coloured in a different metallic paint.

The stallion didn't look at any of this, though, as he had no reason to. He'd spent enough time just staring out at the room that was both his home and a prison—a reminder of unpleasant things. These days, he kept his eyes closed so he could focus on his thoughts when he wasn't needed. He heard hoofsteps approaching but he didn't open his eyes until he heard the distinctive clearing of a throat across the room. His eyes fluttered open to reveal that the pony clearing her throat was, in fact, who he had expected.

"Good evening, Hazie," the stallion said. His throat felt odd; maybe he should have cleared his throat as well.

"It's more like morning at this point, sir, but I thank you and I wish you that as well." The beige unicorn mare looked up at him with a neutral expression. "We've received a message from the South Pen from the supervisor there, a stallion by the name of Velvet."

"Ah, yes, I had been in contact with him," the stallion said, nodding. "Do you know what he said?"

"Yes, I've got the message here." The mare levitated a small scrap of paper forward with a maroon burst of magic, and it sailed quickly through the air towards the stallion on the throne. There was a flicker of light as the magical aura changed from maroon to copper, and the stallion levitated the note slowly downwards in front of his face.

"You may now take your leave."

The mare blinked. "Are you sure? You do not wish to send a response, sir?"

"No, I will either summon you or send it myself if I need to. Thank you, Hazie."

"Of course," the mare replied. She quickly dropped into a bow and then bounced back up, scurrying off down the hallway that led out from the chamber. The stallion, paying her no mind, looked down at the scrap of paper in his magical grasp and illuminated his horn so that he could read the words written on it.

"ፁ3òИ◹⫙ Ø⫙И⫙ᑌሐ,

OX⫙ M⅄ሐO⫙3òѦᑌሐ ⌖òГГ⅄ XØሐ ⫙ሐ◹Øፁ⫙⦢ ᐱòOX OX⫙ ØሐሐòሐOØИ◹⫙ Ѧ⌖ ØИѦOX⫙3 ◹ѦИᐯò◹O. ᐱ⫙ XØᐯ⫙ ИѦO ⅄⫙O O3Ø◹⫙⦢ X⫙3 ⦢ѦᐱИ ⅂ᑌO ⦢Ѧ ИѦO ᐱѦ33⅄. ᐱ⫙ Ø3⫙ ᐱѦ3ʞòИ∞ ѦИ òO.

ᐯ⫙Гᐯ⫙O"

The stallion blinked. Even though he knew the filly was probably going to be talented... the fact that she had escaped was surprising. The South Pen's security technology was state-of-the-art, or at least as state-of-the-art as a remote territory's Bureau funding would allow. Perhaps he shouldn't have waited so long to intervene, but this would be of no great importance. The filly could likely be found fairly easily. The stallion sat there, eyes closed, and thought through his options of what to do next as he withdrew his magical hold of the scrap of paper and let it drop soundlessly to his hooves.