To the current Royal Archivist,

Do not read this where others are present.

I apologize for the workload now forced upon you, but with the rate at which Princess Celestia cycles through archivists, it was inevitable. I have little doubt you were chosen as my replacement even before I replaced Greyhorn. My disappearance likely only pushed the schedule forward. Royal Archivist is a short-lived position; one I was perhaps allowed to hold for too long. But before you begin your work, I would like to explain why I left.

Three weeks prior to writing, I discovered a rough, hoof-drawn map tucked between the pages of a botanist’s journal dated from the year 361. Despite being nearly six hundred years old, it remained intact enough to see that it depicted the eastern coastline of Equestria. Were it not for a single word, I would have thought the discovery quaint, but otherwise unremarkable. Each port was properly labeled save for Baltimare, which had been curiously written as “New Baltimare.”

There cannot be a New without an Old, so my interest was piqued. I scoured our collection of maps to see if there were other such instances, but there were none I could find. What I did find, however, was a very intriguing pattern. Most maps of Equestria prior to the 5th century AB are heavily damaged at the edges, but I noticed that the damage always seemed to be more intense on the right side, resulting in a lack of any illustration of the eastern coast—and a distinct lack of Baltimare. I thought this mere coincidence at the time.

Still puzzled, I looked through shipping records from this time period. Mentions of Baltimare were numerous starting from its founding in 271, but none containing the key word I was looking for. Then at some point in 326, ships seemed to stop visiting altogether. The port did not appear on paper again for nearly four decades. It was at this point I began to notice the records becoming increasingly damaged, with many pages partially or completely missing. The damage regresses around 364, where Baltimare appears once more, albeit less frequently.

What stuck out to me the most about the newer records was Horseshoe Bay. Despite its importance to Baltimare, Horseshoe Bay does not appear a single time in the older records. In fact, I could find nothing to indicate a bay ever existed in that area, yet it is frequently referenced after Baltimare’s return to the record, even if not by name.

All this has led me to a conclusion I still struggle to wrap my head around: it is possible Horseshoe Bay is not a natural formation. Something happened in 326 that I suspect destroyed Baltimare, making ours the “new” one.

I wanted nothing more than to lock myself in the archive and uncover more of this mystery, but my fear overtook me. The trail I was attempting to follow indicated Her Majesty wanted something erased from history. I was afraid my own erasure would follow if my digging were discovered, so I took the relevant maps and records, and I fled. You might think me mad or a coward, and perhaps I am both, but I wish to live long enough to know the truth. I have stumbled into a 12-mile-wide, watery hole in history. I need to know what was removed.

The reason I tell you this is in the hope that you will feel the same. Had I left without writing this, the missing materials would eventually be discovered and reported. Whether I would be hunted down is perhaps the paranoid delusions of a mad coward, but it is a risk I do not wish to take. I have no desire to use what I find against Equestria or the Princess. I merely thirst for the truth. If you can sympathize, or even feel enough pity for an old stallion, then please keep my thievery secret. It is all I can ask.

Brass Tacks