76 years later

12th May, 529 BNM

Faroench Kingdom, Pahrii [capital city]

Their travel lasted only 2 weeks this time, miraculous given how far they had travelled, nearly a quarter of the world's circular path.

The ability of self-teleportation had aided them greatly, and it greatly saved them in travel time and money to forge to gain safe passage all the way from the Far East.

Starswirl's prompting upon leaving the hibernative state, and Siral following, told them to head west. Very far west, over the heart of the mountains, and across the eastern Eoropean scrublands and hills, until they arrived at the Faroench Kingdom's running green plains and lowlands.

Now, they had arrived at the city Starswirl was called to.

The capital of the Faroench Kingdom, the heart of Eoropean affairs concerning cultural exchange, be it religious, art or literature. A veritable hub of the continent, and they were here amidst a time when, for once, the kingdoms, Faroench included, were not battling wars for glory or just for economic gain by greedy monarchs.

12th May, 529 BNM

Late Morning

Faroench Kingdom, Pahrii [capital city]

Downtown, Reine riverbanks markets

"A good deal monsieur, no?"

"6 livre? For a dozen of these? No, it is not."

"Oh come now monsieur, the suppleness, you won't find it better anywhere else in this market, I can assure you!"

An eyebrow raised, amidst the busy market noises, and Siral impatiently waiting nearby, Starswirl gestured to the subject of his bartering with the tricky little merchant horse, a wiry looking brown Faroench stallion. The various tree roots for sale at this apothecary were useful for their potion brewing in their spare time experiments, or namely Siral's, but Starswirl had reservations about some other prices.

Namely the bottles of medicinal liver extracts the merchant was overpricing. That liver extract was useful for some healing medicine he and Siral liked to keep a stockpile of.

"Please, can you not lower the price. My friend here is healing his leg, and that medicine stops the cramps keeping him awake in the night."

Gesturing to Siral, Starswirl shot a look at the black Unicorn, to which Siral purposefully groaned slightly as he lifted a rear leg slightly, pulling up his grey robe to emphasise it.

A hoof to his muzzle, the brown merchant gave a small smile:

"For you and your friend, …5 livre for the liver extracts."

"That's still somewhat overpriced you cantankerous mule!" Starswirl grumpily shot back, to which the brown merchant horse took only minor offence:

"Overpriced, but generous. Believe me, with the festival upcoming, all mine and other stalls' stock of this stuff has been getting bought up, anything that can be used to make the finest wines and ales possible. Now, if you have a problem with the price I offer, then please kindly move along!"

"Fine! But don't expect me to come by your stall anytime in the future." As Starswirl magically reached into the money pouch, to pay the full 7 livre, 5 unfairly for the bottles of liver extract, Siral's own horn briefly flashed grey, as he looked straight into the eyes of the merchant horse.

"Here you go monsieur. And here is your change, 3 Livre."

"But wait, I paid you exactly-" Starswirl was surprised as the 3 Livre coins were dropped in with the medicine and supplies he bought, but the brown merchant horse dismissed him, a slightly glossed expression on his eyes fading away.

"Move along please, I have business to do!"

Catching the glossy look, Starswirl turned around to walk towards Siral, who magically took the liver extracts into his cloak, while Starswirl kept the tree roots in his satchels bought with them.

Walking through the throngs of horses in the market street, Starswirl remarked to Siral as they shuffled past a laughing group of young fillies and colts chasing each other through the streets:

"You know better than to enchant innocent beings like that Siral."

"Come now Starswirl, you and I both know the extracts were nowhere as high in value as he pushed on you."

"Even so, don't make a habit of such acts." Starswirl admonished, though the fait sliver of an agreeing smile caught Siral's eyes, who shook his head in a playful acknowledgement.

"Another 2 weeks and this infernal brace can come off my leg." Siral muttered, the clicks as he walked inaudible over the noises of the market crowd.

Passing down more streets, the rounded one corner into main road, the wider, less market strewn roads easier to navigate now.

"Where do you suppose the next exemplar being is? This is a big city." Siral asked aloud, while beside him, Starswirl recalled the prophecy:

"A glum one, who will teach the meaning of true joy. Joy means celebrating.. What is there to celebrate soon?"

Looking around, Starswirl recalled the words of the merchant about being bought out a lot of stock for anything to produce drinks.

"Of course, the festival. The victory against the Baahverian princes, ending the war."

"The main festival is taking place in the cathedral square." Siral added, pointing out with one hoof what looked like a horse drawn wagon of supplies heading down the road, over the Reine river bridge ahead.

On an island within the river Reine, saddled between the city on each riverbank, the main Cathedral plaza marked the beating heart of the city.

"We know then where we might see the exemplar come out." Siral reasoned. But Starswirl wasn't too convinced, as he suggested:

"But we should keep a look out, search. A glum one isn't very much to go by."

Looking ahead, Starswirl couldn't help but admit:

"And amidst our search, I think I might be curious about the tales of the cathedral's grandeur."

With a smile, Siral remarked to Starswirl as they began to head down the road: "So you decide to indulge in mere curiosity for once in these ventures?"

"We have time, so why not?" Starswirl pointed out, as the cathedral's top spire, a mere shadow of what it would become later on in history, and be surpassed by when a new Cathedral was commissioned centuries from now.

Midday

Faroench Kingdom, Pahrii [capital city]

Downtown, Reine river

Basilica de Saint-Neigherre-aux Danme.

Like so many cities in Eorope's kingdoms, Cantolicism was a big cultural aspect, the key religion in the continent. The religion was only a few centuries old, the grand structures built in honour of them originally Romane temples dedicated to the older pagan gods.

The Pahrii cathedral, on the city's central locale in the middle of the Reine river, had originally been an Imperial Romane Sun god temple, but now served a different faith, a monotheistic faith. A purer faith, its members would argue.

And despite instabilities in and around the holy lands in the middle east, an upstart religion calling itself Mooslam spreading like wildfire, Cantolocism remained strong across the continent, a last vestige laid down by the now shattered Romane empire.

Within the grand hall, the stained glass windows glowing their multitude of colours as the light of midday sun streamed through. The pictures of their patron saint, Neigherre-aux Danme, was flanked by pictures of notable religious figures, saints, angels and beyond. The tall marble pillars flanked the long hall as the final quiet chant of the ending prayers echoed in the halls.

The quiet shuffling of hooves marked the end of the midday sermon service, one of 4 occurring today. The weekends were always busy with even the less devout coming to at least one service.

At the entrance hall, the chaplain stood with an alter foal, the collection plate on the boy's back, in case anyone wished to give now and had not yet. Small clinks as donations were made were repaid with a quick blessing from the chaplain, the red and white robed stallion elderly with a white and grey fur over his features.

A quiet hymn tune played on the organ from on high, its ambiance resonating through the cathedral's main hall as the congregation filed out.

And on cue with the massive clock atop the cathedral, the midday bell rang from high above, reverberating through the hall as the last of the congregation, an elderly mare, gave a last bow to the chaplain before leaving through the main door.

A hoof on the alter foal's shoulder, the chaplain, Father Homlein, gave a small smile at him:

"A good sermon today it seems. Now run along Fletchhoof, your parents will want you back soon."

"Thank you Father." The alter foal handed the collection plate to Homlein, before he left for the antechambers to remove his alter robe and leave the church in his layman attire.

Walking through the church hall, Father Homlein gazed around as the organ music began to slow, as the congregation was now long gone, and the last of the midday bell rings faded. He never tired of the beauty of this place, and he could understand why someone would not feel much of a desire to leave it.

Walking up the main alter, Homlein blew out the candles for the service, knowing there was a few hours until the next service. But as he blew them out, the front doors creaked slightly, signalling two things. First was that he needed to get that oiled before it became annoying, and second that somebody was here.

Turning, Homlein was surprised to see a pair of robed horses, shorter than Faroench kind. As he saw the grey and black, ponies, approach, their blue and grey cloaks' hoods down respectively, he saw the horns on their heads.

"Unicorns?" Under his breath, Homlein was surprised to see them. In Equestria, across the Muttlantic they were common, but rarer in Eorope.

He noticed the black Unicorn was openly curious, even impressed by the church's architecture. As was the Grey Unicorn, but he seemed distant, thinking of something on his mind.

"Greetings, you must be travelers by the looks of it. We don't get many Unicorns, even in a city this big."

Approaching the 2 Unicorns, the Chaplain saw them both bow, the black one slightly less though, before the grey Unicorn in blue robes began to politely speak:

"Yes, we're travelers, and we couldn't help but come and see if the tales told of this Cathedral lived up to reality. The rest of the city so far has impressed, but I must admit, this is already above that in majesty."

"Kind words, and forgive me for asking, but, you are from Equestria, correct?"

"Yes. My name is Starswirl the Bearded, and this is my Colleague, Siral the Savant. Wizards to be specific."

At this, the Chaplain's eyes wandered slightly, remarking as he stopped before them, in some deep thought: "Starswirl, the name is familiar, but I thought he vanished from Equestria. And Siral, is it? Not much is said of you."

At this, Siral's eyes narrowed slightly, while Starswirl remarked: "Vanished, no. But I and Siral here have been travelling, as I'm sure you're aware, magic allows us to counter the effects of age, though not eternally."

"I trust you will have seen a lot, if you are that old then."

"Less than you'd expect, but more than we hoped." Siral remarked bluntly, keeping the fact that they technically 'hibernated' most of the years a secret. At this, Father Homlein remarked:

"But the only others I recall with known ageing resistance are the Alicorns, but there are still some Wizards and Mages among Unicorns from what travelling scholars-"

"Alicorns?" Starswirl suddenly remarked, while Siral was also genuinely surprised.

Surprised that the two Wizards didn't know of the Alicorns, Father Homlein sensed the two would have questions.

"You have not heard of the Alicorns?"

Both shook their heads, to which Homlein offered them:

"Perhaps you might wish to visit the Cathedral archives, given your tone. But before you do, I just ask one thing of you two."

Eyebrows arched in listening, Starswirl and Siral heard out Homlein:

"Whenever we allow outsiders from the church's clergy, we simply ask that they have some form of knowledge to donate to us. After that they may come and go for the rest of their lives. We grow our archives and keep them open to the public that wishes to use them that way."

"I understand. Siral..." Starswirl turned with a slight smile to Siral, who gave Starswirl a pointed look, and then a slight retort:

"What?"

"Come now Siral, given your curiosity you must have something you've gathered from the all the libraries and archives we've been to over the years that we can give up."

With a slightly irritated sigh, Siral remarked as he began to dig into his robes: "Fine, but I'm making a copy before we leave. I'll leave the original."

Pulling out a rather thick scroll, Siral remarked: "Imperial Romane metropolitan archives, a copy of the scriptures of Romanus and Roames's flight from Trot to establish Romane as a city."

Eyes nearly bugging at the scroll, wondering how it fit inside the cloak and remained hidden, Father Homlein took it into his own robe's side pocket, remarking graciously: "I'll have the Father Lowaen let you in, allow me to fetch him now."

The chaplain was gone then, leaving the two Unicorns alone in the hall, the silence ringing in the stain glass lit congregation chapel. Turning to Siral, Starswirl probed him with some astonishment:

"How did you get the entire scriptures?" Starswirl remarked, to which Siral gave a slight shrug, remarking: "That merchant wasn't the first time I convinced somepony to go easier on demands."

"Why do I get the impression that merchant won't be the last time, despite what I tell you?"

"We do what we feel is necessary."

"Did you need the entire scriptures?"

"I needed them, otherwise I'd never have lived with a missed opportunity."

Starswirl nearly rolled his eyes, remarking as he looked up: "Your curiosity may well get the better of you one day."

As Starswirl looked up, he barely heard Siral's remark as a small form high up in the bell tower was quietly escorted away by a larger form:

"It is called being proactive. Besides, I think that-What is it?"

Starswirl's vision had flashed a slight blue, the familiar feeling as he saw the two figures:

"Up there, somepony in this church's members. The exemplar, they're here. But I'm not sure who."

Looking up, Siral suggested quietly, ensuring his voice didn't carry in the hall:

"Perhaps we can look into things in this church other than these, Alicorns, while we're here."

Starswirl could only nod in agreement, but the slightly elder wizard couldn't help but be thankful of the prophecy subtly luring them to where they needed to go for each exemplar so far.

Early/Mid Afternoon

Faroench Kingdom, Pahrii [capital city]

Downtown, Reine river

Basilica de Saint-Neigherre-aux Danme.

Upper balcony levels.

The adolescent foal leant over the stone banister of the cathedral's rooftop balcony, overlooking the plaza in front of the building. He always marvelled at the sight of the tents being assembled, ready for the festival in 3 days' time, along with the massive stores of delicious looking food, drink, and all the entertaining sideshows that would be in the Summer Eve festival, hosted by the church. One of the few occasions where the church tolerated the presence of more, rambunctious pastimes, and by the clergy's admittance, a time to let those most numerous 'smaller demons' out to exercise them.

And this year was a great one to look forward to, the defeat of the Baahverian Princes to the north of the Faroench Kingdom, and the end of that war.

Coming down, the foal, equivalent of between an adult and a full blown child, stumbled slightly as his back legs gave out. Little 'Kayeno' he was affectionately called, Kayeno by his name Fathers Homlein and Lowaen gave him when they discovered him on the church doorstep.

Lame in the back legs, bulky in the front legs, shorter overall for his adolescent age, and sporting a mixed white and black coat, Kayeno was the church's bell ringer, hardly seen outside at all, much like the church organist who raised him in place of the understandably busier Fathers Homlein and Lowaen.

Kayeno was clearly dumped by his parents because he had been born lame on his back legs, and would be a burden on them, but the parents had been kind enough to leave him in the night on the church's doorstep. The boy had been raised in the church, as they knew he would likely not be fully supported enough given his needs by the local orphanage. And their faith demanded they care for the sick and needy.

As he grew, he had to learn to walk more on his forelegs, and that meant his forelegs became more muscular than normal. As he was raised by the church organist, the most involved in his raising, he grew into his role very readily.

His forelegs made him, despite his lame backlegs, a very strong church bell ringer.

Steadying himself, Kayeno kept his forehooves planted, his larger than normal forelegs making up for his lame back legs. To those less than kind who saw him, he resembled a rumoured 'ape' creature from the savage jungles, or one of the church gargoyles, by how he walked on all fours at an angle.

Nearby, inside the alcoves of one balcony, the other figure, a brown robed, ash grey Faroench horse, who always wore a scarf around his neck whenever anypony was around, or no matter how many robes he wore.

"Papa, do you think it will be as good this year?"

With a slight smile, the ash grey Horse stallion gave a stiff nod, looking down, his icy blue eyes conveying all Kayeno needed to know.

"Do you think maybe we could go down this year? Not just me, but you too?"

His smile fell, and the church Organist, Claupe Frello, gave a morose shake of his head, indicating he still was unwilling to do anything beyond simply look on at the festival from up on high, as he did every year.

Kayeno had lived for 11 years, and had already been to 2 festivals with Fathers Lowaen and Homlein, indulging in the entertainments, the joyousness.

The white and black adolescent foal looked slightly downcast at his most involved father's continued reluctance, but he understood. Putting on a playful smile, Kayeno remarked:

"Okay. Maybe I could bring you back something then when it happens?"

A soundless series of breaths escaped Claupe Frello's lips, as the grey stallion gave a nod through his silent laughter.

Kayeno's more childlike giggle was all the noise Frello needed to share in to make his own feelings known. Casting his gaze down, Frello gave a slight hoof gesture to the horses filing in down below in the plaza, then to the bell tower:

"Okay, next one's starting soon. I'm going."

Kayeno strode away, forelegs doing more of the work walking as usual, but as Frello turned, Kayeno asked aloud: "Hey, maybe I can talk to those wizard guys after the service. They're in the archives."

Kayeno didn't even need to see Frello's soundless lips move to reply:

"Yes, I won't move any of Lowaen's scrolls while I'm down there, I know he likes things in their place."

As Kayeno clambered up the wooden walkways in the bell tower, more like an ape than a horse in his movements, Claupe Frollo cast a slightly long gaze downwards as he heard the vague noise of a musician playing a jovial tune to the workers putting up the stage for the festival in 3 days' time.

As the horses continued to file in, Frello wandered back into the church, until he came to his domain, the organist's box, with his life before him, how he could make noise in the world, noise that was always beautiful and meaningful, to make up for his inability to make his own.

Claupe Frello had come to the church as a young stallion, barely older than Kayeno was now. Before, and when he'd had his voice, he'd been part of a family of wandering gypsies, performing acts, music, and travelling for a living across the Faroench kingdom.

One day, when someone in the troupe had conned someone a bit too much, they were attacked in the night. They tried to be con artists, those who performed enough to make their 'victims' still happy despite being tricked by an act that amused them enough to give their money. But some used the acts as distractions to take what wasn't earned.

A local noblestallion's guards attacked their encampment in the night, and that was the last Frello saw of his parents and brother and sister, uncle and cousins. Not all were killed, but they were scattered.

Frello lived as a singer, and when the guards captured him with others, they sought to remove what made them able to carry on their acts, all being left alive if possible. Dancers had their legs wounded or cut off, musicians had their forehooves, or paws in some cases, damaged to stop their skill, and singers, like Frello, had their necks delicately cut open and their vocal cords cut.

Alone, mute and seeking a new life, Frello and the other mutilated Gypsies lost track of each other, as they were all dumped randomly across the province they'd been staying in.

Eventually Frello found his way to Pahrii, and the local Cathedral. He knew the basics enough from his uncle, a musician, to know musical notes, and with some kind help from a younger Father Homlein, became the Cathedral's organist.

When young Kayeno was found on the church doorstep, Frello saw something in Kayeno that reminded him of his younger brother, bright eyes, slightly deformed, but innocent. He volunteered to be the boy's dominant father, raising him well and kindly as he could manage.

Now the boy and he were very close, but unlike the curious Kayeno, Frello had no desire to venture beyond the confines of the Cathedral, where he could entertain as he once did, how he could do now. He played now to offer support during prayer, sermons, hymns.

And he listened in, wishing he could be among those voices that sung. Sometimes he mutely mouthed the lyrics as he played the organ, pretending he could speak.

He watched the festival each year from afar, never involving himself in it as Kayeno or the other church Fathers did. He physically could not express his joy, he felt couldn't take part anymore without expressing his laughter in the first place.

So he played, he remained here high in the church, or within its walls, where the silence was the norm.

It drained his spirit slightly, whenever the congregation ended each time. He felt a part of the world again, but he would remain here where he would not be judged except by that highest judge, fairest and impartial.

Kayeno was braver than he, venturing out to the festivals, the world, with his lame legs. But pride prevented jealousy from setting in.

Claupe Frello felt at peace here, in the quiet and melodic union interchangeable of the Cathedral, where he would blend in unseen. As he played the organ each time however, he found himself jealous of the instrument itself. Something not living could make such beautiful noises, while he could no longer.

They admired the organ, not the player. But he didn't mind. He was better off that way.

Frello was keen to remain an onlooker, letting others experience life's joys while they could still express their joy.

Mid Afternoon

Faroench Kingdom, Pahrii [capital city]

Downtown, Reine river

Basilica de Saint-Neigherre-aux Danme.

Main chapel, organist's balcony.

Forehooves raised, Claupe Frello absentmindedly shifted the scarf around his neck beneath his robes, rubbing the slight itch that developed on his neck from time to time after all the 16 years he'd been here at this church as organist, in his now 34th year of life.

The scars on his neck from his vocal cords being cut as punishment to his entire gypsy family and troupe by the disgruntled noblestallion's guards were hideous to behold, which was why he still wore the scarf. Shame of his gypsy past, and shame of what talent he lost. The church frowned on such temptation-fuelling use of talent for gain, but there were far worse sins in their book. It was why he kept his past as a Gypsy singer a secret.

He knew there would be gypsy singers in the festival too, and other gypsy acts alongside an all manner of entertainers. He had no desire to be there, it would remind him of what he'd lost.

Pressing his forehoof onto the organ keys, Claupe Frello played the first note of the first hymn.

High above, his adoptive son Kayeno rang the church bell to signal mid-afternoon.

Author's Notes:

The beginning of the Laughter/Joy arc, and I decided to keep it focused this time. No combat, more culture, even religion, and issues of self/others' joy, entertaining, mourning and protectiveness.

I also brought in that in history, the first Alicorn has emerged in Equestria, beyond Starswirl and Siral's knowledge, to which they seek the church's archives [more on that next chapter].