Emerald switches over to asking a bunch of questions. He asks who they are, and who the order is.
“I am Bellator, and this is my sister Praelia.” The stallion says, pointing to the large mare beside Ruby, “We are members of the Order of the Arrow. We are tasked with identifying and destroying those who would wish to corrupt us ponies. Most of the time that has to do with dispatching dark magic practitioners and those who dabble in diabolism.”
Emerald asks what’s so important about that letter, as if he didn’t already know.
“Classified, my little friend.” Bellator says, taking one of his saucer sized hooves and rubbing him in the head roughly.
Emerald bats away the hoof and says that he doesn’t feel like they are taking him very seriously.
“Well, you’d be right.” Bellator says with a playful grin.
This is working pretty well. Maybe he should ask some more questions.
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