“Excuse me... um, sir… Um... what… sorry, who... are you?!”
Twilight Sparkle, The Avatar of Albion.

***

Ponyville. May 5th. Year 3 of the New Diarchy Calendar.

One day, in the magical land of Equestria, a purple Unicorn mare named Twilight Sparkle sat alone on the edge of a pond near the Everfree Forest, pondering the water as she tried thinking of precisely what to write for her latest friendship report.

The last few days had been… interesting, to say the least. Which was to say, a group of travelling Moles had come through Ponyville, drunk half the town dry of alcohol and then proceeded (while still drunk) to start digging themselves a mine - the foundations of a Molish city - in the centre of the town. It had taken all of Twilight’s not-inconsiderable diplomatic skill - not to say luck - to convince them that mining in the middle of an inhabited piece of flatland of all places was perhaps not the best place for them to start. They hadn’t been convinced until one of the inebriated party had noticed the looming form of the Smokey Mountain in the distance. Twilight had told them it was free land (she wasn’t certain, but then the only time she’d been up there the only inhabitant had been a Dragon so she was reasonably sure) and they had packed up and headed off.

Twilight admittedly didn’t know much about Molish culture. This group had ridden great big, scaly worms (or what they had called Wyrms) and most had been at least lightly armed to some degree, and that alone had intimidated many of Ponyville’s residents (apart from Lyra Heartstrings, resident cryptozoologist and something of a cultural historian, who’d spend most of their visit drinking Ol’ Trotspur with them and asking about the Wyrms and Molish history and - well, everything). Still, given how she’d had to improvise her solution, Twilight found herself feeling quite proud of it. After all - they’d left, and done so without causing lasting harm (the town’s severely decreased alcohol stock and the giant pit they’d temporarily dug in the town-centre notwithstanding).

Still, it left Twilight the unenviable position of having to explain to Princess Celestia that there was a Molish caravan heading off to the Smokey Mountain and taking residence on (or technically under) Equestrian soil. An unenviable task.

She couldn't complain too much about it though: at least it was a nice day for it. The sky was blue, birds chirped as they flittered hither and thither through the trees, and there was barely a cloud to be seen.

Another idyllic day, Twilight found herself thinking with a smile. Moles or not, it was good to live here. Taking up her quill, Twilight began scratching out her letter to Celestia.

Dear Princess Celestia,

Over the past couple of days, Ponyville has been playing host to a group of travelling Moles. Though they didn’t hurt anypony and they seemed friendly enough, they did decide that they wanted to dig a mine in the middle of town. I think Lyra knew why, but she got a little -

A soft clicking sounded behind her. Twilight raised her head, a slight frown on her face, and the scratching of the quill stopped. Whatever that noise was, it had sounded almost artificial, like some sort of mechanism. She was about to turn around to investigate when a soft, gravelly voice spoke from close behind her.

“Get up slowly. Drop the quill. No magic.”

The edge in that voice set Twilight on edge. She tried to think what the click might have been. A crossbow? She knew Griffons used them, and they were deadly weapons. But what would a Griffon be doing out here?

“I said get up,” the voice said, a tad impatiently. “Slowly.”

Obeying, Twilight slowly lowered her quill, before moving to stand up. There was a pause after this, and her mind was working frantically, trying to run through all the possibilities. Something flat and metal pressed to the back of her head, just under the soft fur of her mane. It didn’t feel like a crossbow, on account of it not being sharp, but…

Before she could come to any conclusions, however, she heard the voice speak again.

“You know, you really should be more careful where you sit, Commander.” The rank - unfamiliar to Twilight - was spoken with scorn. “You’ve enough enemies in this country as it is.”

Twilight swallowed. “I-I think you have the wrong mare.”

There was a snort of derision before the gravelly voice spoke again, sarcasm lacing its tone. “Commander Twilight Sparkle. Born in the year nine hundred seventy nine of the Single Celestian Throne calendar. At age twenty one, you became the bearer of the Element of Magic. At age twenty five, you became one of Princess Celestia’s chief researchers, right before the declaration of Empire. You’re thirty six now, and for the last eight and a half years you’ve been a High Commander of all Imperial Guard forces, primarily assigned to the research division.” There was an undercurrent of loathing behind the sarcasm. “I know you very well, Commander. It’s sort’ve my job.”

Twilight frowned in confusion. She had only turned twenty four a month or so ago: what was this pony (or Griffon?) talking about? He had her date of birth and the age she’d been when she became the bearer of the Element of Magic, but the rest made no sense.

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what half the words of that sentence mean!”

“Lying isn’t becoming,” the unknown voice said. “Your friend Applejack wouldn’t have approved.”

Wouldn’t have approved? Why the past tense? Twilight thought, a sudden feeling of dread running down her spine. Did something happen? What did this pony… Griffon… thing… do?

“I-I’m not lying,” she whispered. “Please.”

There was a pause. “Turn around slowly, Sparkle.”

Twilight did so, feeling her heart skip a beat out of shock at the thing she found herself facing.

It was easily twice her height - six foot tall, bipedal. It wore a shirt of some kind, off-white and stained. Battered brown trousers and knee-high boots were set off by a just-shy of knee length coat in a battered black leather. Leather meant predatory - most races didn’t wear animal skins unless they ate animals, that much Twilight knew. The thing had pinkish skin and a dark brown, almost black mane, with stubble surrounding its chin. Its eyes were small and brown, staring at her with unabashed hatred mixed with just the smallest piece of what could only be uncertainty.

And it definitely wasn’t holding a crossbow. Instead, it was aiming a small metal something with a cylindrical barrel at her. The angle at which it was held suggested some sort of projectile weapon, though, and Twilight didn’t want to take any chances. Around its chest it wore some sort of bandolier, which seemed to hold several dozen small pointy metal things - projectiles for its weapon? Slung around its back was another metal object, this one larger and longer, but clearly a similar sort of device. Finally, two knives were sheathed in scabbards hung on the back of its coat.

“H-hello,” she said quietly. “M-my name’s Twilight Sparkle. W-who are you?”

The thing blinked at that, before laughing right in her face, a harsh, unpleasant sound full of bitterness.

“Don't tell me you don't know who I am,” he (she was fairly certain it was a ‘he’) said angrily. “You know exactly who I am.”

“N-no, s-sir, I don't,” she replied nervously. She felt confused - what was this thing? Why did it think she should know it? Why was it threatening her?

Too many questions, not enough answers, she thought to herself. But none of them will matter if this creature decides to kill me.

The creature seemed, if anything, even more confused now, the aim of its weapon slackening ever-so-slightly. Twilight briefly considered trying to disarm it…

… but it thought she was its enemy, and she, as a student of friendship, wasn’t going to give it more reason to think so. She would talk to it, not attack it.

It (he, Twilight, don’t de-equinise him, that won’t help) seemed to come to a decision, and adjusted its (his) aim.

“It doesn't matter,” he said, almost shrugging. “If you're really that stupid, I guess killing you is going to be easier than I thought.”

His finger tensed on the trigger of his weapon… but he was still hesitating.

“Please,” Twilight said quietly, trying not to sound too scared (or too antagonistic - she didn’t want to provoke him). “I d-don’t know why you think I-I’m your enemy, but I swear, I don’t know who you are. I’m twenty four, and I’ve never been in the army. There’s been some mistake.”

The creature narrowed its eyes at her. “Prove it.”

“I turned twenty four not too long ago,” Twilight said desperately. “I’m not... I told you, I've never been in the army. I'm not built for it!” she was trying to stay calm. Trying not to panic. This creature, whatever he was, was a predator. From what she’d read, a predator didn’t react well to its prey getting twitchy. “I’m not thirty six: you only have to look at me. I promise, I don’t… I have no idea what you mean!”

The creature growled, his lips curling into a sneer of disgust… and then he lowered his aim slightly, looking irritated. Twilight relaxed a fraction.

“Nopony’s that good a liar,” he said slowly. Twilight held her breath. “There’s more to this, there has to be.”

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Now, if we -”

In a flash, he lashed out with the butt of his weapon. Twilight’s head exploded into pain, and the world went dark.

***

Lyra Heartstrings, nursing the hangover to end all hangovers, was stood at the edge of the Everfree forest, finishing a sketch.

She had honestly had more fun in the last week than she had had in four years: she had never had the opportunity to meet Moles before the little ‘invasion’ of the last week. Sure, there were Moles from Mol Trotspur up near Trottingham, but that was Trottingham and she’d rarely had enough time to go there. She barely made enough money from odd jobs or from the paltry amounts of money she made from busking with her lyre to fund her need for new books and papers and drawing materials, and she barely got by. Actually going to Trottingham? Ha, no chance, not unless she won the lottery, and she didn’t even play the darn lottery (should I play the lottery? If I won I could finally fund that round-the-world trip I’ve been planning since High School).

So it had been amazing for Moles - real, proper Moles - to come to Ponyville. She had talked extensively to them, though she had needed to imbue perhaps a shade more Ol’ Trotspur (a particularly famous - and strong - Molish beer) than she strictly should have just to gain some modicum of respect from them. She liked to think, though, that she had held her own with the gruff Moles, and once they got chatting they had told her a lot about themselves, their culture and their beliefs. It had been fascinating.

She had tried telling Twilight that all the Moles wanted to do was finally settle down, start a Mol (their word for ‘City’, though it really just meant ‘Place of the Moles’) of their own and, according to their religious practices, find a way to return to their Gods (‘...the Gods of the Mol-kin were born at the heart of the world, and they sent their children forth to seek paradise…’).

Of course, when she’d tried explaining, it had mainly come out as, “Moles want to build a Mol for the Moles, so the Moles of the Mol can find the Mole Gods of all Moles and worship their Moliness.” All this while trying to do the traditional Molish Molochai dance, which was incredibly difficult for a four legged being.

In short, Lyra Heartstrings was not exactly a sensible or coherent drunk.

She looked up from her sketch, frowning as she tried to remember the exact curve of the Molish snout, the exact cut of their tough clothing and their stout figures before the images vanished from her mind. And then she blinked, wondering if she had been out here just a tad too long, but the image she saw before her didn’t change a jot.

Further along the edge of the forest was a bipedal figure in tough, battered clothing, and it was carrying the familiar form of Twilight Sparkle over its shoulder. It was looking around furtively, and Lyra quickly ducked into cover with a wildlife observer’s instincts. The thing continued into the forest, and Lyra quickly pulled up her pencil and jotted a rough sketch of the lines of the figure: the long legs, the strong arms, and the flowing jacket it wore. She cross referenced everything she knew about every strange creature from Equus’ vast history and landscapes.

Not furred, so not any of the ape-kindred. No tail, so likely not a Kitsune in one of its forms, or a Nekomata. Easily too short to be a Minotaur. No spider legs or permanent, prominent mammary glands, plus there's no pheromone haze, so not a Jorogumo. Her eyes widened as she realised what it had to have been. Two legs. Two arms. It couldn’t be - but there’s nothing else that it could be… but that’s just…

She took a slow, calming breath, before saying what it was aloud, confirming it in her own mind.

“A human.”

She grinned, despite the obvious danger Twilight was in if she was being foalnapped. A human - the holy grail of cryptozoological research. Rare was the book that mentioned them, rarer still was there any notion of what they might have actually been. There were stories of cannibals from the south, ancient lost Empires of the East, adventurers in the North… the ancient Horssian tribes spoke of the great riders, brothers in arms. The Jorogumo writings lamented the loss of the first husbands and fathers. Even the usually staid mythologies of the Griffon Empire had their own tales… but there was nothing at all concrete about them.

Gathering her thoughts, Lyra moved slowly out of cover. She hadn’t seen where the human had gone, but there were only so many places in the Everfree forest to go before you started getting just a little bit too lost.

Quickly, she dashed back for town, stumbling slightly as she did so. She was, after all, still a little drunk.

***

In the centre of Ponyville, working on clearing away the detritus of Pinkie Pie’s “Goodbye Moles” party (which had really just been an extension of the six day “Hello Moles” party that had started when the travelling group of Moles arrived), Lyra found Applejack (an orange Earth Pony mare wearing a stetson), Pinkie Pie herself (a very bright pink mare) and Rainbow Dash (a pale cerulean mare with a rainbow-coloured mane), all apparently discussing the merits of Ol’ Trotspur, while Rarity was busy directing a few ponies to clear up.

“Jus’ sayin’,” Applejack said with a shrug. “I don’ hold with that stuff. Gimme a good case of ol’ fashioned Apple Cider any day, and I’m, swell. That Molish stuff tastes too… earthy.”

“Applejack, you’re an Earth Pony,” Rainbow pointed out. “How can you object to something tasting ‘Earthy’?”

“Ah’ll have you know, just because Ah’m an Earth Pony, that don’t mean I want things tasting like mud,” Applejack said with a snort. “Ah’m refined in ma alcohol drinkin’.”

“My goodness - you're ‘refined’ about something,” Rarity chortled from behind them, coming up to join them. “I do believe that's a first, darling.”

“Laugh it up, Rares,” Applejack said good-naturedly. “We’ve all got our refineries. Yours’re clothes. Mine’s drink and apples.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “I’d hardly call cider ‘refined’ alcohol, but I think I see your point.”

“I kinda get what Applejack means too,” Pinkie said with a thoughtful expression. “It does taste very earthy. But then, Moles come from under the ground, so maybe that’s why -”

“Actually,” Lyra put in as she approached them, catching her breath slightly as she reached them, “Ol’ Trotspur was first brewed by Ganner Bugmole of Bugmole’s Brewery in Trottingham, made with a combination of old Molish techniques and pony magic. It’s why nowhere else can make it but Bugmole’s in Trottingham, and why it’s so expensive.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Trust Lyra to know where it comes from. You were with them so much I thought you’d marry one.”

Lyra snorted. “Moles frown on inter-species -”

“TMI!” Applejack yelled, holding up a hoof. She frowned at Lyra. “Ya’ll alright, sugarcube? You look a little outta breath.”

Lyra grinned. “You’ll never believe what I just saw.”

“What?” Rainbow asked sarcastically.

“There was a human at the edge of the Everfree Forest!” Lyra grinned.

Applejack and Rainbow groaned, and Rarity rolled her eyes again. Lyra had more than once gotten on the subject of humans, her favourite mythological creature. Of all the various strange things Lyra was into, humans were the one she obsessed over the most. She’d even managed to organise a lecture on the subject once - only Doctor Hooves, Ditzy Doo and her daughter, Pinkie (who attended everything, and was always welcome for bringing the best cupcakes), Amethyst Star from down the road from her, and her ever-present, long-suffering friend Bon Bon had bothered attending, but the lack of interest hadn’t daunted the mad mint-green Unicorn at all. If anything, it had only fuelled her desire to prove that they existed to somepony.

“You really saw a human?” Pinkie asked, frowning.

“Yeah!” Lyra said with an even wider grin. “It was carrying Twilight into the Everfree... Forest...” her face fell. “Ohhhhhh no. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Rainbow and Applejack exchanged looks of equal parts pity and scorn - this time, Lyra had really gone off the deep end.

A moment later, they registered exactly what she had said.

“I’m going to go with yes,” Rainbow said.

“Say that again, sugarcube?” Applejack said, eyes widening.

“A human was carrying Twilight off into the Everfree Forest,” Lyra said, slowing down. Her own eyes slowly took on a look of dawning comprehension. “Oh. I… should’ve done something, shouldn’t I?”

Rainbow swore loudly, doing a loop the loop out of a combination of panic and frustration. Pinkie’s mane seemed to deflate slightly, a slightly worried expression gracing her features. Lyra seemed suddenly worried herself, her eyes widening at the implications of an unknown creature carting Twilight off to who-knew-where?

“Darling,” Rarity said quickly, looking moderately terrified herself. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You were right to call for help.”

“Yeah,” Pinkie added with a grin. “You're probably still a little tipsy from all that Ol’ Trotspur!”

Lyra smiled sheepishly. “Yeaaaah…”

Applejack, trying to remain calm, gripped the mint-green mare’s shoulders.

“Ok, Lyra, this is important,” she said seriously. “Where did you see them?!”

***