It is ironic, after all the time I spent in Canterlot I would be drawn back to this place. Yet not even the grandeur or prestige of the capital could hold up to sitting in the Terrace Café, watching the sunset in this wondrous city. You could do it for days while the sun slowly descended in a single dusk, to be replaced by the gentle glimmer of the moon ever so slowly.

The cobbled streets curving and ascending as you left the coast, the bridges older than most Equestrian towns. And despite what the map says, Vanhoover isn't Equestria. The kingdom is a young child compared to the matronly beauty of the astral city.

When the royal archivists and scholars dug through ruins desperately trying to find some truth in the myths from the early days of the Kingdom, the full scandalous truth of the Fall of the Crystal Empire was performed here in the opera. By divas who saw it with their own eyes, oh how I miss the performances.

Not even the end of the world could bring her down, no outsider could ever hope to fully grasp the resilience hidden within these ancient streets. The Van Hoofs are said to be dead and gone like the princesses or the ministries, like the zebrecian empire and Equestria. Foolish nonsense... When the zebra mystics cowered in fear at the sight of the night sky, the Van Hoofs looked upwards with longing and love. As it often is. The truth is stranger than myth, and oh so much more horrifying.

The Star of Vanhoover watches over us, and there are still those who remember.

Étoile Van Hoof

Duchess of Vanhoover