Rhythmic rocking and clacking slowly brought him awake. It was so quiet and calming that only the fact that it was even happening served to push him into alertness instead of sending him back to sleep. His eyes shot open- only to be blinded by sunlight; panic jolted through him for a moment before he realized that he was actually slightly chilly, instead of being burned alive.

While he waited for his eyes to adjust, his other senses helpfully supplied what information they could. A muffled whistle from ahead of him, a constant deep thumping sound, a hushed conversation a bit off to his left, the smell of fabric and wood, the feel of something soft underneath him rocking back and forth.

...a train. I'm on a train? Why the hell am I on a train? Come on, eyes, any minute now; it's not like you're my most important sense or anything!

Finally, his vision adapted to the morning light. He was, in fact, on a train- what seemed to be an old-style steam locomotive, in fact, with wood-paneled walls, brass fixings and upholstered seats. Grassy plains dotted with trees rolled past the closed windows, and the morning sun peeked through clouds on the horizon. It was so relaxing that he felt tempted to lay his head back on his luggage, tuck his forelegs underneath him and go back to sleep.

His head shot up. Forelegs?!

He slowly glanced down, then back. He'd been too overwhelmed by everything else around him to notice at first that he was laying on his stomach, but apparently that was a comfortable position for him now, seeing as how he had four legs rather than two. A charcoal-grey coat of hair covered his body, along with what seemed to be a sweater vest with a couple of pockets on the front. A jet-black tail sat behind him, curled past his hind leg, above which rested a strange symbol on his hip- what looked like a beam of light illuminating part of a ragged-looking scroll; a quick twist of his neck- much longer than natural- showed a matching one on his other... flank? Was that what it was called?

He laid his head down on his luggage- how he even knew it was his, he couldn't comprehend- and closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing and pulse through sheer will. Calm down, he commanded himself. Calm DOWN. This is Disney World compared to where I just was. Maybe I'm some weird... pony... thing, but it doesn't look like I have to worry about getting eaten by wooden wolves or fried by sunlight. He took a few deep breaths, letting the gentle movement of the train help calm him. Okay. I can handle this. Just like before. Investigate, learn, understand. Those sisters, whoever they are, put me here for a reason, and me getting home is tied in to getting their mission accomplished.

Finally, he got himself to open his eyes and raise his head again. When in Ponyland, do as the ponies do. But first, I want a look at the rest of me.

A brass plaque, polished to a shine, set at the end of his row of seats was the best he could do for a reflective surface, and he got to his hooves and walked to it, surprised as to how well he was managing already. What he saw in it shocked him- an equine face, its ice-blue eyes almost comically large behind a pair of spectacles perched on his snout, stared out at him from beneath a spiky mane the same color as his tail; a sharp-looking horn jutted out from his forehead, with a spiral winding its way from base to tip. Okay, so, um, I'm a unicorn, he thought, resisting the urge to raise a hand- or, rather, a hoof- to touch it. Why not? How much of any of this has made any sort of sense?

“Oh, hey there. Didn't see you come aboard!”

Somehow he didn't jump out of his skin at the unexpected voice behind him, but he did almost spin in place to face... her. He wasn't even sure how he knew her gender, though the look of her seemed to confirm the first impression- somewhat shorter, with a less angular face and a more slender build. She bore no horn, and had a light-orange coat with a blue mane; her golden eyes held a curious expression. “I... get that a lot,” he told her, looking away for a moment. “I tend to move quietly.”

“I'll say. It's like you just appeared out of nowhere.” She chuckled. “But if you could teleport, what would you need a train for, right?” She giggled at her own joke. “Uh, well... anyway. You looked a little out-of-sorts, so I thought I'd make sure you weren't feeling ill.”

Only now did he notice that she had a mark on her flank, different from his- what looked like a white box with a handle, and a red cross marked on it. Something medical-related? It felt like he almost grasped the significance of the mark, but he kept himself from staring at it so as not to seem rude. “Oh, um... no, not at all,” he told her. “Just have a lot on my mind at the moment, that's all. Thank you, though.”

“Oh, no trouble, really. We paramedics are a little focused on that sort of thing, after all.” She gave him a pleasant smile. “Oh, where's my manners? I'm First Response. And you are...?”

He was almost too busy working out that she'd given him an actual name to realize she was waiting for his. But even as he started to rack his brain for some sort of fake name to give as reply, he found himself opening his mouth.

“I'm Story Seeker.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you, Story!” Her smile was oddly infectious, and he found himself returning it, even feeling a little relaxed by it despite the fact that he'd just spoken without meaning to. “Have you ever been to Canterlot before?”

Canterlot, again. Ground zero for the bad shit going down? If the sisters need me to find out what happened, I suppose they'd have me head right for the source. Can't fault them for style, either. “Err... no, I can't say that I have,” he answered. “I'm not really sure what to expect.”

“Oh, it's quite the city! No other like it in Equestria.” Somehow, he managed not to groan. The horse puns are just piling up. “And you're lucky- you're just in time to see how they've prettied the place up for the Renewal of the Covenant!” First continued.

He was just about to open his mouth when he caught himself. Whatever this “Renewal of the Covenant” was, it seemed well-known enough to where professing ignorance about it would seem odd... and looking any sort of “out-of-place” wasn't going to help him. So instead he merely offered a nod. “Yeah, I'm sure it's going to be quite a sight,” he replied.

First grinned, before her eyes flicked past him to glance out the window. “Oh, look!” she said, pointing with a hoof. “You can see the city already!”

He reflexively turned to see what she was talking about- and then froze in place, his jaw dropping. Off in the distance, set on the side of a mountain, was nothing less than a city of gleaming marble and gold, catching the morning sun and reflecting it back towards the train's passengers. Somewhere, Minas Tirith is sulking in jealousy, was all he could bring himself to think.

“I know! Isn't it gorgeous?!” First Response gushed, actually hopping up and down. “I heard they built the train line through this spot just so travelers can see the city light up in the morning like this, or watch the moon frame it just before setting! I mean, it adds two minutes to the trip, sure, but I'd really say it's worth it.”

“I can't argue that,” he murmured, needing another moment before he could tear his eyes from the sight. “Um... First, it was, right? I'm feeling kind of out of it... I'm going to go put my head back down for a while, if that's alright.”

“Oh! Absolutely.” She gave him another bright smile, and after all those hours of being lost by himself in Frozen Post-Apocalyptic Pony Land, a friendly expression from anyone felt heartwarming. He returned the smile and gave her a polite nod before returning to his luggage, taking just a moment to look over it- classic steamer boxes, probably oak, and written in that strange-yet-comprehensible pony language was what seemed to be his new name. So that's who I am while I'm here, I guess, he mused. And what kind of a name is-

“Story Seeker?”

His head jerked up. First Response was calling his name from her seat further down the car. “Uh... sorry,” he said. “Yeah?”

“I'm sorry for bothering you, but... your accent is familiar, but I can't place it and it's kind of nagging me. Where are you from?”

“Oh, I'm from Hobitken,” his mouth decided to answer.

“Ah hah! There we go. I had a friend in college from there, and the accent's so similar you could've been her brother. You don't happen to know a Sandy Shores, do you?”

Thankfully his brain was in top form for coming up with stories out of the clear blue this morning. “Uh... no, afraid not. Hobitken's not a small city.”

“So true! Well, thanks for the answer, hon. I'll let you be.”

He let out a soft groan as he laid his head back down on the luggage, feigning sleep as his mind worked things over. Hobitken? Is that supposed to be some pony variant on Hoboken? I've never even been to Jersey! ...ugh. Focus, “Story”. Concentrate. Where are all these little factoids coming from?

It took him a little while, but eventually things began percolating up in his mind- not memories, but facts, like someone else's history that he'd studied intensely and then forgotten, but was now slowly recalling. Story Seeker. Born and raised in Hobitken, attended the College of Magic in Whinniepeg, placed 51st out of 220 in his- my, I guess- class. Gained my cutie mark- is that what these flank images are called? Oy- finding an ancient tea kettle from the Second Age buried in my backyard. Headed to Canterlot to attend a symposium on historical discoveries, just happens to be the day after this Renewal of the Covenant, which surprisingly I still know nothing about. Sure enough, after a little work with his hooves- they were far better at grasping things than he expected- he discovered tucked away in one of his pockets a checked train ticket and a personalized invitation to the Greater Equestrian Historical Society's eighty-third annual symposium. Huh. A few holes in the cover story, but still- pretty damn good. The sisters can apparently get stuff done.

Incorporating this somehow-implanted knowledge into his regular thought processes wasn't the easiest thing, but by the time the train started making its way up the mountain, he honestly felt like he could do a good job of blending in here in Horseyworld- okay, quit making fun of it, it's “Equestria”, he told himself. Like it or lump it, here you are, now make the best of it.

Yeah, but, you know... wait a minute. Isn't this the sort of thing I've always wanted to do every time I've walked into some old abandoned place? See how things were when it was intact, active, alive? Isn't this, like... that, times a hundred? Maybe I don't belong here, maybe I'm only here in order to get home, but still... hell, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see a whole different world! I'll need to keep my eyes open for anything that's important, but it'll be a lot easier to blend in if I'm actually enjoying myself here, won't it?

He wasn't exactly excited by the time the locomotive reached the Canterlot station, but he was definitely interested in what the city had to show him. But as the train rumbled to a stop, he hopped down from his seat- and then spared a glance back at his luggage. So... how do I carry these? he wondered. Can I grab both these handles in my mouth, or....

He was suddenly aware of a buzzing sensation in the front of his head, and everything near him lit up with a faint blue-grey light- the same as the strange, shimmering aura that suddenly covered his bags. There was a weird tugging feeling, like he was holding something in one of the hands of his regular body.

...you gotta be kidding me. Does this work like...?

Sure enough, with a mental effort that was a lot like raising his arm, the bags levitated off of the seat and settled onto his back, where they sat perfectly balanced even as he trotted off of the train. Right. Duh. Unicorn. Magic. I'm glad you know your stuff, “Story”, because Jacob here knows exactly squat about the subject.

He was in the middle of wondering if his inexplicable familiarity with magic was more “bestowed knowledge” or something inherent to his new body when he heard a now-familiar voice call out. “Story!” First Response shouted, waving a forehoof to get his attention. “Hey, over here!” She gave him a grin as he made his way over. “You look a lot more lively now; I guess that nap helped.” She glanced over his bags. “Wow, you're not a big believer in packing light, are you?” she teased. “Where are you staying?”

“I, err... I'm not sure.” An itinerary wasn't one of the things he'd found in his pockets. “I don't seem to have planned that far ahead.”

She giggled. “Stallions. Well, did you come up to see the Renewal? Because all the hotels near Equinox Square are probably already booked solid.”

“Well, that wasn't the only thing....” He almost reached up for his vest pocket with a hoof before remembering that he had magic now; he levitated the invitation out. “The Symposium... says here it's at the White Wind Convention Center.”

“Oooh, a bit off the beaten path. You might have some luck at the Apricot Inn; it's just a couple minutes' trot away. I've been there once- it's not five-star, but it's cozy.”

“Apricot Inn. Got it, thanks.” He took one step forward, then stopped. “...yeah, I'm going to need directions,” he said dryly.

With a laugh, First Response gave him a short and easily-remembered path to follow to get him to where he needed to go. “Seriously, thanks a lot, First,” he told her. “You just saved me a headache.”

“No trouble at all.” She smiled. “Hey, drop by the Sunset District this afternoon; me and my friends will be spending most of the day there. We could hang out for a bit, see the sights.”

Well, he couldn't think of a better way to learn about the place and its goings-on from the locals. “Okay, I'll see if I can make it,” he replied. “Thanks again. Take it easy.”

“You too!” She trotted off, and he made his way along the various roads, blending into the foot-traffic- or, rather, hoof-traffic- that was milling about in the mid-morning light. Small pony-pulled carts carried other ponies from place to place, and here and there were set carts stacked with food, souvenirs and other items for sale. His stomach growled. No; food later, get a room and drop off these bags now, he told himself.

It wasn't until he got inside the Apricot Inn that he realized something: He didn't have any money on him. He pulled the smallest bag off of his pile of luggage and opened it up, rummaging through for a bit- brush, shampoo, towel, toothbrush and toothpaste... there, tucked away at the bottom, was a fairly large bag with a tied-off top; it jingled quietly when he lifted it. Inside were quite a few golden coins, many of them marked with double-digit numbers. If the prices he'd seen on that menu in the restaurant were any gauge, this was a fairly hefty sum. The sisters did not skimp on the bankroll, he thought with satisfaction, tucking the coinpurse away under his vest before putting the travel bag back on the pile and heading up to the front desk.

His luck was in; there were still a few available rooms, so he booked a single, paid in advance for four days- which covered up until the night of the Symposium- and let the valet bring his bags up, giving the boy- colt?- a generous tip. The room itself was quite nice, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he laid himself down in an actual bed. Hell, has it only been one day? he wondered. Not even that! It's just been one ridiculously long night and a really weird morning.

The temptation to just lay there on the comfortable bed was overridden by a loud growl from his stomach. Breakfast required, he thought to himself with a mental chuckle, slowly getting to his hooves and stashing most of his money in a safe spot before heading back out.

Breakfast was a carrot-coconut breakfast loaf, some apple fritters and a fizzy cola-like drink purchased from vendor stalls along the street just outside the inn; he also picked up a newspaper from a news stand and found some informational pamphlets near the front desk. Once he was back in his room, he took a seat to begin reading while he ate... only to pause once he took his first bite. Either the taste buds of this new body were much more sensitive than his own, or these ponies were far better at growing and baking than any place he'd ever been, because the food was delicious. Reading was put aside for a couple of minutes while he practically shoveled his breakfast down his throat.

Once he'd finished- and cleaned up the crumbs from his wild ravaging of the food- he settled down to read. Okay, here we go, learning some stuff now, he thought. The “Renewal of the Covenant” is a ceremony where Equestria's Princesses- Celestia and Luna- renew their power... over the sun and moon? Okay, if I wasn't a human going undercover in the body of a magical pony, I'd laugh at the whole thing... but damn if this isn't a whole lot to take in at once....

Wait a minute. Wait just a damn minute! The sun, the moon... like, that moon that was ridiculously close to the planet, and that sun that flash-fried a wolf made out of lumber? Okay, Story, looks like you've got your very first lead: Check out this Renewal of the Covenant. It's a thin one, but it's a start....

He finished off the cola, tossed the bottle in the waste bin and then set about opening his luggage. What was inside surprised him- underneath spare clothes and other effects was a plethora of reference materials, basic history books, culture guides, maps... basically a crash-course on how the ponies lived. Man, there is a LOT of reading here, he thought, levitating one of the books up and opening it to a random page. I guess the sisters wanted to give me background info but couldn't just shove it all in my head... but man, how am I suppose to read all this in just a couple of-

FLASH

He blinked in shock, dropping the book. The brief flare of light that had sparked from his horn hadn't even dazzled him, but now he had a strange afterimage of the book in his eyes. Wait... not in my eyes; in my head! He needed to close his eyes for a moment and concentrate; the image receded out of sight- but it was still there in his mind, as detailed as if he were still looking at it. What was more, there were other images seemingly “tucked away” in his mind as well. The pictures I took at the coal breaker! he realized with a start. Some kind of spell to replicate my camera? That didn't pop up out of Story's history... did the sisters decide on that? Well, hell, it'll prove useful....

It took him most of an hour to “mentalgraph” several of the most pertinent books. The process was no good for instant recall- he had to go into a sort of low-level trance to retrieve the images, meaning that while he could hold a conversation while doing it, anything more mentally involved was right out. Aside from that, it was no different than having pictures on his camera. Good to have 'em, though, he decided, stacking the rest of the books on a dresser for later perusal. I'll look over them whenever things aren't too busy. I've always been decent at multitasking.

Next up was a shower. He seemed clean enough, but it was kind of a ritual of his to wash up at the end of a trip anywhere. Fortunately the room was equipped with a full bath, and after undressing, he took full advantage of the hot water, letting himself soak under the shower for a good few minutes. Then he had a look at the complimentary cleaning products that'd been left for his use. Mane shampoo, coat conditioner, soap... straightforward enough. And having magic makes reaching the tough spots easier.

He'd never been one to primp, but the newness of his pony form meant that he spent about twenty minutes under the showerhead figuring out how to wash effectively. He also learned a few things about pony anatomy. Yeah, definitely male, just well-hidden. I was starting to wonder about this society that apparently doesn't believe in pants.

Drying off didn't take long at all, courtesy of the thick fluffy towels hanging by the bath, and he checked his bags for something good to wear. “Damn, Story, you dress like one of my college professors,” he murmured, looking at all the vests, sweaters and sweater vests that had been neatly folded and carefully packed. “If I had the time I'd do some clothes shopping... but I'm here to get things done, not to dress to impress.”

He picked a comfortable-looking vest and a white shirt to wear underneath it, then got dressed, tucked his room key and some money into his pockets, and headed out the door. Okay, Story, he told himself, eyes open, head on a swivel, and... ears up, I suppose. Time to immerse myself in some culture and figure out what's going on.