C.T.K: A rewrite of my story A Scribes Work.

Magic Books, Runes, and a Little Hope

Chapter One: The Ghost of Canterlot

The robed pony raised an eye at the banner hanging over the grand chamber.

"Artist Recognition Party," it read in large gold letters.

It was clear to the blue-robed pony that this was not a party in the normal sense of the word. While those of regular upbringing thought of parties as events with loud music, junk food, dancing, and general fun, this party was an event with classical music, hors d'oeuvres, and showing off. This was not a party for normal ponies, ponies of the lower or middle class; this was a party for the upper echelon of Canterlot, an event of sophistication, of class.

Of snobs who feel they're better than anyone else, the pony thought with a snort.

He sat alone at a table in the corner of the room. The party was taking place in the art wing of the Canterlot Museum. Statues that had once been positioned in the center of the large room had been moved to make way for tables covered by bright red tablecloths. In the center of the room was a long table stacked with treats and a large bowl of punch. While most of the refreshments where things like cucumber sandwiches and other hors d'oeuvres, there were a few plates of cupcakes and cookies. Paintings of various styles hung from the walls. At the back of the room was a section called 'Local Talent'. The section currently had one painting which was lit by small spotlights.

The pony adjusted his pince-nez glasses as his light grey eyes glanced to the party guests. At a table not far to his left, he noticed five ponies in blue blazers and dresses. Three tables over were a group of mares wearing floral hats and rolling their eyes at the blue-clothed ponies.

The pony shook his head. They even consider themselves above those considered their equals.

He grumbled as he noticed several of the floral hat mares pointing at him and giggling.

"Act like I'm blind," he growled. "So I'm throwing another soiree," he said, his voice becoming low and nasally. "What should I do for entertainment?" Another imitation, this time high pitched and obnoxious. "I know! Invite Ghostwriter. He's so weird. It will look good for you and we can make fun of him behind his back. He'll never notice."

With a roll of his eyes and a snort, he returned his voice to normal pitch. "Please, Princess Luna using her royal voice is quieter than you pompous jerks," he said softly, before shaking his head fiercely. "Don't be like that, Ghost." Just because some of them are pompous, self-important jerks, doesn't mean they all are.

He turned his head to look at a group of nobles at the other side of the room. Most of them are probably just afraid of being chewed up and spit out by their social groups. He shrugged. I can hope one of them gets over it.

"Evening, Ghostwriter."

Ghost turned in the direction of the voice. The voice, very similar to the male voice Ghost had been imitating, belonged to a yellow stallion. He wore a grey dress shirt with pearl cufflinks and his brown mane was slicked back. Not a hair was out of place. Seemed to Ghost that this stallion spent a lot of time on his appearance. The pearl cufflinks signified nobility.

And then fate decides to bury my hope in the deepest, darkest hole it can find, he thought.

"It's certainly been awhile, hasn't it?" the stallion said with a smile.

"Uh, yeah," Ghost mumbled, turning his eyes to his book. "It has, I guess." Especially since I can't remember meeting you in the first place.

"Last time I saw you, you were telling my compatriots and I a rather tall tale," the stallion chuckled.

Ah, now I remember,'Ghost inwardly sighed. Bout half a year ago, I got laughed out of a room of nobles for believing in the Kelpie legend.

The stallion put a hoof to his chin as he raised an eyebrow. "It was about some creature from the north. What was it called again? Kerpie? Koopie?"

"Kelpie," Ghost corrected.

"That's it," the stallion said, stamping his hoof. "How exactly did it go again?"

Ghost's eyebrow rose. 'Does he really want to hear it, or does he just want something to laugh about.'

He scanned the stallion's face, looking for traces of deceit. A confident smile and bright eyes were all he could see. Overall, Ghost thought he looked genuine and relented.

"The Kelpie is a creature of legend," Ghost began. "It comes from a large island far to the northwest. The legend states that on some nights traveling ponies would meet with a strange pony pulling a large, attractive carriage. This pony is said to have an all black coat and mane. The black pony will offer rides to the travelers. If the travelers sit in the carriage, it becomes adhesive. The dark pony suddenly morphs, growing to monstrous size," he said raising his hooves to try and indicate the size. "and gaining large sharp teeth. It then charges, off dragging the carriage into the nearest lake, where it then eats the pony, leaving nothing but the liver."

The stallion was silent. His mouth twitched. A hoof was brought to his mouth, stifling a snort. Within seconds the snorts erupted into bouts of full blown laughter.

Ghost rolled his eyes. "Yeah, should have seen that coming."

The stallion wiped his eyes. "Oh, come now, Ghostwriter. You can't honestly believe that story?"

"Never underestimate a legend," Ghost said with a glare. "You never know what parts of a legend could be true."

"Those are just myths, stories told to foals to get them to behave."

"Nightmare Moon was just a myth, the elements of Harmony were just a myth," he said, pointing at the stallion. "And those ended up being true."

The stallion snorted. "Really, Ghostwriter, you simply must get your head out of the clouds."

Ghost grumbled as the stallion walked away. "What's wrong with having your head in the clouds?" he mumbled. "I mean, pegasi do it all the time." He chuckled shortly before frowning. "Yeah, not my best joke."

Ghost shook his grey head before pulling his hood over his shaggy brown mane. His eyes dropped to the large leather-bound book that sat on the table. He scanned the book, frowning while levitating a scroll and quill to his right.

"Awkward phrasing," he mumbled. "Need to work on that." Ignoring the party around him, his quill scribbled away as he made more notes on corrections.

"Good evening, Ghostwriter."

Ghost looked to his right with a small surprised jump. His eyes widened slightly and a nervous smile spread to his lips.

"Evening, Princess Celestia," he said, removing his hood. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she said with a smile. "Though, these parties are more of my sister's interest."

"Is she here?" he asked.

"We declare this painting a masterpiece!" Princess Luna bellowed. Though she stood at the back near the painting, her voice bounded off the walls, shaking the painting, rocking the tables, and causing many occupants to cringe.

Ghost chuckled. "Well, that answers that."

Celestia put a hoof to her mouth to suppress a giggle. "What do you think of the painting, Ghostwriter?"

Ghost looked over to the painting in question. It was a painted picture of a sunrise over a hidden forest lake. As the sun peeked over trees painted in many hues of green, rays of sunlight bounced off the lake. A hazy reflection of the sun and trees could be seen in the gentle waves, where small fish could be picked out in the depths. He smiled as he noticed a small tent set up on the right shore. A small easel was set up with a small paintbrush swirling a rainbow of colors painted on its canvas.

"It's Paint's work," he said with a shrug. "Family opinions are always biased." His smile slowly faded as his eyes went downcast.

Celestia put a hoof on his shoulder. "Paintswirl will return someday, Ghostwriter," she said with soft eyes.

Ghost sighed. "And she'll probably still hate me." He shook his head fiercely. "Anyway, it's great that she got her work into the museum's art wing. She definitely deserves it."

Celestia nodded while looking at him with questioning eyes. "Why are you by yourself, Ghostwriter?"

He glared while turning towards the party. "All I am is entertainment to them. Most of them fake any interest in the things I say. I'm just an oddity they can laugh at," he grumbled. "Why do they keep inviting me to these things?"

"It is your sister's painting they are celebrating," she said with a slight frown.

He turned back to her, no longer sporting a glare yet maintaining a frown. "And if it weren't for that, I wouldn't be here." Ghost turned his attention back to the party-goers. "They treat my position like royalty, but treat me like an outsider. I figured that after a year, I'd get a little respect for what I do." His eyes widened before he looked down to the floor. "Uh, excuse me, Princess," he said softly. "Paint always said I get too personal in conversation."

Celestia smiled. "It's alright, Ghostwriter. I want all of my little ponies to be able to talk to me."

"Still, Paint told me I need to be respectful around royalty," he chuckled as he rubbed his neck. "Complaining about my job isn't exactly respectful." Looking up at the party he raised a brow. "I just don't get it though. What's so important about my job anyway? I'm just a scribe."

"A scribe to two princesses," she said, her smile softening. "A position that requires skill."

Ghost looked at the floor again. "I was also the only applicant. It's been so romanticized." He turned to the princess. "Don't get me wrong, I love my job. But to me, it's just a job that needed to be done so I stepped up." He shook his head. "Anyway, I finished that treaty you wanted."

Celestia nodded. "I will pick it up later. But tonight is not about work, enjoy yourself. You haven't even touched your cupcake."

He turned towards the vanilla cupcake placed in the center of the table. Its red frosting gleamed in the lighting and a small fox-tail decoration sat on top. He smirked.

"I wish I could. I could use the sugar," he chuckled. "But it's not a cupcake, it's Flare, and I don't feel like being set on fire."

The cupcake suddenly started to move, hopping forward onto Ghost's book.

"Why did you tell her, Ghost?" whined the cupcake. "I could have pranked a princess. Kitsunes dream of that."

Ghost raised a brow. "And how were you going to do that as a cupcake?"

"I was gonna jump up and say 'Boo!'"

Ghost's hoof found its way to his forehead. "You know, for a trickster spirit, thats kind of lame. Aren't the kitsunes of Tarpan supposed to have, I don't know, more elaborate pranks?"

The cupcake drooped. "I didn't have much time to plan."

"Whatever you say, Flare." Ghost frowned. "Now move, you're getting crumbs and frosting on my travel journal."

Celestia let out a chuckle. "Evening, Flare."

Flare hopped around to face her. "Hi, Princess!"

"Your powers never cease to amaze me," she said.

"And they never cease to annoy me," Ghost said, propping his head on his hoof with a small smile.

'I need to get these trimmed,' he thought as his eyes looked at the light gray feathering around his hoof. He turned back to the cupcake and spoke. "Will you please desist being a cupcake? You're making me hungry."

Flare let out a chuckle as his form became hazy and began to waver and reshape itself. Soon, the cupcake transformed into a small crimson fox wearing a blue scarf with two tails that alternately waved up and down.

Flare smiled. "Better watch out, Princess. I'll prank you one day."

Ghost rolled his eyes. "And on that day, the guards will turn you into a fox fur scarf."

Flare turned up his nose. "They'd have to catch me first."

Celestia chuckled. "Maybe one day, Flare."

"Princess?" came a call from behind her.

Celestia turned to see a noble trying to get her attention.

"You'll have to excuse me, Ghostwriter," she said with an apologetic smile on her lips. "I have other duties to attend to."

"No problem," he said, nodding. "I'll be here if you need me."

"Try and have fun, Ghostwriter," Celestia said, she walked away.

"I'll try, but it's unlikely," he mumbled.

He returned his attention to his book, resuming work as Flare lay down on the table. The young kitsune let out a bored yawn as he lay his head on his paws. Ghost scanned a line but suddenly froze, his body stiffening. Glancing up, he noticed several ponies staring at him while whispering to their partners and neighbors.

He groaned. And they're staring. Of course. I really hate it when they do that.

Quickly flipping his hood up, he tried to return to his reading, but could sense the persistent stares. He growled slightly before slamming the book shut.

"We're taking a walk, Flare," he said softly, packing the book and scroll in his saddlebag. As he stood up and moved away from the table, Flare jumped onto his back.

Ghost let out a deep breath while he walked through the museum. The white marble halls were empty and quiet, save for the echoes of his hoofsteps. He kept his eyes on the ground, his body loose as he studied the black and white floor tiles.

"Where are we going, Ghost?" Flare yawned.

Ghost lifted his head and looked around, finally taking stock of his location. His eyes were drawn to a large sign overhead reading History Wing. He smiled as he turned to his left and walked through the wing's arched entrance. Ducking under red velvet ropes, he worked his way towards a set of exhibits called 'Old World Culture'. He wasn't worried about being discovered. The museum had powerful spells lining the archways, as well as on the artifacts themselves, that would sense the intent of intruders.

Ghost took a deep breath as he entered the room housing the exhibits. The white walls and floor tiles reflected the moonlight that filtered through the windowed roof. He sighed in content.

"Ah, the smell of history," he said, his eyes alight. "Is there anything better?"

"Cake?" Flare asked, jumping off his back.

Ghost rolled his eyes. "Paint took me here every weekend when I was little," he said as his smile faltered. "We didn't have much money, but the museum had free admission on weekends. My love of history started here." Ghost shook his head before turning to Flare. "Come on."

The Old World Culture exhibit was not as expansive as other exhibits. Equestria's history and cultures were well-documented even before the Pony Sisters' reign. As such, most of the exhibits were foreign objects with mere speculation as to what they were for, except for one.

Ghost walked towards the center case which held a large leather book with an ornate cover. He stopped in front of the case. With a frown, he shifted his weight while quickly scanning the room. His frown then twisted into a small smirk before he quickly pulled a small key out of a secret pocket of his saddlebag and unlocked the case. Taking the book in his own hooves, Ghost let out a sigh. While his eyes stared at the cover, his mind was in the past.

"Can you believe it's been three years?" he said quietly, more to himself than to Flare. "Three years since I took my journey and found this book."

"Two years since you found me," Flare said cheerfully.

Ghost nodded, his eyes still focused on the book. "Man, I was stupid back then," he said, shaking his head. "I was barely a colt when I set out. There were several times I thought I wouldn't make it." He chuckled. "Just got lucky, I guess." He turned to Flare with a warm smile. "Still, I met you and found the Rune Guide. All and all, not too shabby."

Flare smiled back. Suddenly, his ears shifted, his body crouched low to the ground. He let out a growl as he raised his nose to the air.

Ghost glared into the darkness ahead. "What is it, Flare?"

Flare continued to sniff the air before his eyes went wide. "Ghost, look out!"

Ghost and Flare tried to jump back as the case exploded, sending pieces of metal, glass and stone in all directions and knocking the duo away. Flare flipped in midair, landing on his paws low to the ground, teeth bared. Ghost clutched the book to his chest as he hit the ground and slid across the tile floor, coming to a stop with a grunt. Groaning as he hurried to his hooves, he slipped the Rune Guide into his bag.

"You know, I must tell you, you got lucky," called a figure in the darkness. As it emerged, it grinned, an act that made Ghost shudder. "I don't usually miss."

Ghost let out a growl. "You."

The newcomer chuckled. "Me?" he said, putting a hoof to his armored chest. "What does a simple colt know about me?" His grey eyes stared at Ghostwriter with mirth.

"I know a lot more than I want to." Ghost gulped.

The dark brown unicorn chuckled as he ran a hoof past his grey mohawk. "Pray tell, who am I?"

"Conceited, aren't we?" Ghost said while rolling his eyes. "Very well. You're Phantom the Spell Thief, born Spell Cutter," he announced as his eyes narrowed at the thief. "A formal royal guard who was dishonorably discharged and wanted for the theft of several magical artifacts and stealing the magic talent of many unicorns."

Though Ghost knew more than that. As per his job, he was the one who had written the initial draft for Phantom's wanted notice. This, coupled with some of his own personal research, gave him knowledge of Phantom's crimes, leading to an intense hatred for the thief. It was one thing to steal magical items, but Ghost, and most other unicorns, felt that it was inherently wrong to take a unicorn's magical ability.

Phantom's hoof traced the vertical scar that ran down the side of his neck. "Ah, yes. Good times." He chuckled, a sound that seemed to slither through the air into Ghost's ears. "You never forget your first time." He took a step forward while charging his magic, causing Ghost and Flare to step back. "Now, this has been a fun trip down memory lane, but I need you to give me that book."

Ghost took a step back. He crouched, anticipating a strike.

Phantom sighed. "Come now, you have already complicated things by being here to begin with. I'm losing my patience."

Flare, run and get the Princesses, Ghost thought, his eyes focused on Phantom.

What? echoed Flare's voice in his head. Ghost, I can't just leave you here. This guy reeks of blood.

It's okay, Flare. I'll be fine, Ghost thought. But someone needs to warn the Princesses. Now go, I'll cover you.

Flare growled. Jumping back, he ran towards the exit.

"Not so fast!" Phantom yelled as he launched a bolt of magic at Flare's retreating form.

Ghost jumped in the way with a glowing sheet of paper held in front of him. The bolt slammed into the gray bubble that formed around him, before scattering across it.

'God, I love rune magic,' Ghost thought, his heart hammering in his chest.

Phantom smirked. "Well that's certainly an interesting trick." He drew a chipped and scratched sword from the sheath on his saddlebag. "So, tell me, colt." He chuckled as Ghost eyed the sword glinting in the moonlight "What's the driving force behind this? Is it bravery or stupidity?"

Little of both, I guess, Ghost thought with a gulp. As he readied himself, a single thought ran through his mind: this was going to be anything but easy.