//------------------------------// // A Good Night // Story: Night's Favoured Child // by Municipal Engines //------------------------------// Chapter Eleven: A Good Night An eerie tune echoed through the labyrinthine halls of the Imperial Palace. Its haunting notes sent shivers up many a servant’s spine. Hearing it, ponies stepped to the side, the better to let the Inquisitor pass with plenty of space. It was like the drumbeat of an army on the warpath, but softer and far less comforting.   The Lord Commander of the Imperial Overwatch whistled as he walked, the corner of his mouth quirked up with glee. The monotony of the past few weeks was to be broken at last and some well-deserved entertainment was to be had. With great anticipation, he trotted through the door to one of the smaller, more peripheral rooms of the palace.   He was met by several familiar faces. The Duke of Canterlot maintained the dignified aloofness he favoured, offering only a polite nod to the new arrival. The young Hierophant was all smiles: devious, predatory smiles eager for the thrill of a heated argument. The Marshal, however, simply stared at him with a deep frown and hard eyes full of ire. His moustache twitched, as if even it was irritated by the grey stallion’s lateness.   The small, stuffy room they had chosen crouched in one of the oldest sections of the sprawling castle; the furniture had probably been constructed centuries before, and the room itself was even more ancient. Years of secret plots and clandestine rendezvous had taken their toll on the furnishings, and the staff hadn't been overly meticulous about buffing out the occasional scratch or replacing a floorboard grooved by the passing of a door. The meeting room might not have seemed equal to the prestige of its occupants, but it sometimes seemed to the Inquisitor that the opulence of such rooms was inversely related to the importance of the deals made there. A single table surrounded by cushions stood in the centre of the room, and the only other notable feature was the drinks cabinet the Inquisitor had installed when it became clear this would be the Inner Circle’s usual meeting place away from the watchful eyes of Nightmare Moon and the rest of the Privy Council.   “Good night, everypony,” the Inquisitor said, smirking boyishly. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long. Though at least you have fine drinks and good company.”   His horn flared with magic and he tapped into his pocket dimension, pulling out four folders stuffed full of paper and documents. Giving one to each of his fellow councillors, he walked over to the drinks cabinet. “Tonight’s agenda is in those files. I am sure you’ll find it quite a read. I do have brunch in a little while, so I’d like this to go as smoothly as possible.”   While his colleagues read, the Inquisitor retrieved a bottle of wine from the cabinet and poured himself a glass. He sat down with a pleasant smile on his face, though his eyes were cold and dark. His demeanour was casual, but the cool, calculating twinkle in his eyes as he watched the other three read through their files was that of a predator’s; staring silently with steepled hooves on the table.   He waited patiently for them to read and digest, and there was a lot to digest. He felt somewhat proud of what he had written in their files; a work of many weeks’ effort. The project had, in the end, become quite the engaging hobby. If only they could appreciate the thought and research I put into it, the Inquisitor thought.   After a significant length of time spent analysing the documents, Duke Blueblood lifted his eyes away from the text and frowned at the black-clad unicorn. “I was led to believe that we were going to be discussing a single act regarding the defence of our nation. This…” he sneered. “This is insanity.”   My, my, I think Blueblood might actually be upset with a plan of mine. The Inquisitor held his pleasant smile and turned his impossibly dark eyes to the Prince of the Unicorns. “No, Your Grace, it is simply thoroughness. One act couldn’t possibly be enough, and if we are planning to debate acts for the protection of our Empire then we should make other plans to coincide with them as well. You can never be too prepared.”   “Preparation is one thing. Single acts of Parliament are one thing. Both are small and allow room for correction; room for input. This program you have crafted contains more legislation, changes and operations than I’ve ever seen in one file!” the Duke shook his head indignantly. “I have known you to be confident to the point of arrogance, Inquisitor, but never have you been so brash as to think that you alone can dictate this government’s policies!”   “To be fair, the contents of these files are only suggestions,” North Star interjected, her gaze briefly moving to the Inquisitor. He returned her gaze with the knowing wink of a co-conspirator.   The noblepony snorted. “Whether these are suggestions or demands, it does not matter. It is clear our Chancellor’s intent is to try and force his will on the government. This madness would dictate our every decision for the forseeable future!” He frowned at the dark-eyed unicorn. “Do you fancy yourself an autocrat, Inquisitor?”   “Tell me which proposals you have a problem with,” the Inquisitor said, pausing for a sip from his wineglass, “and I will be happy to discuss it with you.”   “There are so many, I hardly know where to start.” Blueblood flipped through the folder. “For example, this bill grants powers to the Ministries of Defence and Security – the Marshal’s and your departments respectively, I might add – and the unprecedented budget increases that you propose are, quite frankly, an insult to every other branch of government. Not to mention that you want to saddle the Ministry of Culture with what I can only describe as a system of cultural warfare. But by far the most egregious, the most audacious, are the acts that seem to have no other purpose than to marginalise the power of the feudal provinces and take authority away from their rightful governors.”   The Inquisitor nodded. “Yes, I can understand why you would have a problem with those, but you fail to see the big picture. I drew up this program and all these proposed bills and acts not to be implemented for simple petty power struggles, but to defend our great country. This package will give us the strength to resist griffon attack; increasing the powers of the Ministry of Defence and Ministry of Security are an obvious course of action to ensure our survival and to ward off the griffons. The ‘cultural warfare’, as you call it, will ensure our citizens are aware of the dangers we face and understand the need to be cautious regarding the griffons. My suggestions merely point the Ministry of Culture in the direction we need to take in order to prepare our country and ensure it has the strength and courage to survive. Hierophant North Star’s department will be given the powers in the package that will allow it to do its part. These reforms and policies are vital for the prosperity of our nation in these troubled times.”   “Vital?!” Somehow, the Duke’s frown deepened. “How can cutting off the aristocracy from the military be vital? Abolishing the governing nobility’s right to recruit soldiers from their own lands? This… centralisation is outrageous! The feudal system is a foundation of the Empire, and for the central government to steal our armies is a betrayal of the highest order!”   He shot a desperate look over to his usual partner in crime, Hierophant North Star. A short, silent conversation followed. A smirk, a grimace and a then wry look from the priestess to the Inquisitor turned the Duke’s hard stare back over to the grey stallion. Blueblood gave him a look that only rivals could give. It said, “You took her from me, you cur.” The Inquisitor responded with a grin that replied, “You had it coming, you overblown bastard.”   At this, the sole earth pony in the room leaned forward. Marshal Silverstar pushed the fat cigar in his lips to the corner of his mouth to talk. “The system’s archaic. It’s been begging for reform for hundreds of years. I read the report too, Blueblood, and I am happy that the Inquisitor has finally come round to placing all military resources under the Empress’s direct command, where it belongs.” He chuckled and pointed to a paragraph in a document. “Heck, it even yanks the right for a baron or duke or whatever to refuse to join the war effort. I know that's never happened before ‘cause you sops are too scared to tell the Empress 'no', but it’s good to know you can’t go all ‘conscientious objector’ on us in the middle of a fight if you decide you’d rather trade with the enemy than risk losing a market.”   “Besides,” North Star interjected, deciding the time was right to add her weight. She didn’t put much effort in controlling the glee in her voice. “You see the compensation, don’t you? A beautiful tax break for the nobles who trade in their private armies to the central government? I’m sure my friends in the aristocracy will relish the chance to stop throwing away bits on a pointless status symbol and get paid for the privilege!”   Frustrated, the white unicorn glanced at the three other faces, each split-second moment of eye contact full of loathing and enmity. Away from the judging public, faced with no allies and a proposal that would destroy so much of his power, he had no need or desire to pretend aloofness or aristocratic ambivalence. The Inquisitor had to fight to keep from laughing out loud at Blueblood’s rapidly deteriorating mood.   “It doesn’t matter how much they’ll like it! This is about the principle!” Blueblood said. “I will not see the power of the nobility ripped away in one fell swoop. I will not see your institutions claim that which is rightfully ours! We haven’t been to war in over one hundred years, and you want to prepare for one now? We have deterrence enough to make these preparations unneeded. Ours is the only ruler in this continent who is a god. The griffon Prophets vanished millennia ago.”   “Your Grace, I thought you of all ponies would have remembered that the Stalliongrad Protocol prevents the Empress from participating directly in a conflict,” the Inquisitor spoke calmly, with a smile plastered on his lips. “We risk outright war with Konnica, Iburria and Veneighce – simultaneously – if Nightmare Moon takes the field, and even she can’t stand against their combined might. No, these preparations are of paramount importance. The acts will give Defence and Security enough power to put their hooves firmly in the ground and dig right in against these griffons. I’m sure you of all ponies will understand the importance of that. And let’s not forget how important the Ministry of Culture will orchestrate the war efforts at home.”   North Star slipped in, eyeing a piece of text from her folder, her voice taunting. “Lands administered by the Way and citizens renting such lands shall be exempt from the quartering of soldiers – or agents,” she noted with a satisfied smirk toward the Inquisitor, “…and from being drafted into service should the need for such arise.”   Somehow, the Inquisitor didn’t quite know how, Duke Blueblood managed to look even more appalled than he already did. “This is just self-service! Self-service for you and the Inquisitor!" He turned to Silverstar. “Surely you cannot support this? Our Chancellor wishes to dictate to us defence, administrative and trade policies and strip away our authority one-by-one until he has nopony but the Empress herself to question him!”   The old earth pony took the cigar out of his mouth, pinching it in the crook of his hoof, and blew out a plume of smoke. Behind the wafting grey veil, he raised his eyebrow and his moustache twitched in what the Inquisitor recognised as Silverstar preparing to unleash a verbal assault.   “Blueblood, you’ve been so stars-damned used to getting your way over the years, you forgot what it's like to have to back down. You try and block everything I put forward just because you think it’ll give common folks like me too much power. You’ve been building up and up, an’ seems like you’ve never faced a real threat to your power until now. I don’t know why the Inquisitor’s waited this long, but it seems to me that this package deal has more than enough punch to knock you clean off your pedestal and put all that power back in the hooves of the public. I can see why you’re so upset – you’re just not used to things going so badly for you.”   The white unicorn's scowl grew so deep that his normally handsome face transformed into a twisted mask of rage. “This will never pass!” he snapped, standing up and slamming his hoof on the table. Silverstar must have really got to him this time, the Inquisitor thought. “I will not let it pass. The nobility make up the bulk of Parliament, and they take my word as law. I control Parliament, and I will use every tool at my disposal to prevent this from passing. I will appeal to the Empress herself and I will force her to stop this if I have to!”   Silverstar calmly tapped his cigar into the ashtray before putting it back into his mouth. North Star was fixing a brooch on her dress, trying to make it straight again. The Inquisitor lazily studied the contents of the folder, checking for any possible grammatical errors. It was all very slow and deliberate. Meanwhile, the Prince of the Unicorns stewed and fumed like he never had before, and in a wonderful, unspoken act of spontaneous cohesion, the other three continued to ignore him for a little while longer.   Finally, the Inquisitor spoke up. “Marshal, I’ve never asked, but now I’m curious. What kind of cigars are those?” The Duke, aghast, stared at them all with the intensity of the Hisani sun as Silverstar replied. “They’re made in the Southern Isles. The Gallopfreyans probably set up that colony over there just for them, I’d bet.” “And the minerals,” North Star added.   “The minerals too,” the Marshal allowed.   Easing out all his rage in a long, trembling sigh, Blueblood sat back down. “I… apologise for my outburst,” he said, attempting to reclaim the dignity he so often held. When the elder Blueblood showed humility to the rest of the Privy Council away from Nightmare Moon’s eyes, it was a special night indeed. “But I repeat that the majority of the Parliament, being nobles, will reject this program no matter how you frame it, and I will do everything in my power to make sure they do.”   Oh, we’ll see about that, the Overwatch commander thought. While Parliament on the whole would more than likely quell the proposals without preparation, the Inquisitor was not a pony who failed to prepare. Many in Parliament already answered to him; commoners who found in his patronage a sure path to becoming a Member of Parliament and strategically-placed Blackcloaks that he managed to slip through the cracks of the system. North Star also had a strong grip on a slice of Parliament; much of that slice included the more religious nobles. The Inquisitor rubbed his chin with the back of his hoof. Even with North Star’s support, might that bunch need some more incentive to vote with me?  Of course, the vast majority of the remaining common-blooded Parliamentarians fell into Silverstar’s camp, being mostly military officers. The Destriers, the Inquisitor recalled yesteryear’s nickname for the faction. They would absolutely love this bill, no doubt about it. Still, Blueblood was more right than the Inqusitor was willing to admit; he influenced a not-inconsiderable portion of Parliament, and then there were the neutral independents and smaller factions that comprised the remaining percentages. Many had been individually bribed, threatened, or charmed already, but Blueblood was not an opponent against whom such things could be expected to stick. For all the Inquisitor’s preparations, this matter would not be entirely decided until the votes were counted.   “In any case, I’m eager to hear your full take on the proposals, Marshal,” he said.   The old warhorse raised a sceptical eyebrow at the Inquisitor and chewed thoughtfully on his cigar. He cleared his throat and replied in the same business-like tone that he used in meetings where he wasn’t shouting or growling at one of the many ponies that could offend him.   “It sounds like a reasonable response to the threat, and I don’t mind adding that it’d do this country a hell of a lot of good to start to take the reins back from the nobility.” He paused to sip at a snifter of whiskey before continuing, heedless of the scowling Blueblood. “But I want to have some say in this program before we present it to Parliament.”   “But of course, Marshal. In fact, I think I’ll go one step further,” the Inquisitor said, as cool and casual as ever. He leaned towards the moustachioed stallion in an almost conspiratorial manner. “How would you like the cover to say ‘The Silverstar Plan’? You would make the ideal front-pony for the proposals. It is, after all, focused on the defence of our great nation and–” He shot Blueblood a mocking smirk. “–we all know your popularity with the ‘unwashed masses’.”   The Marshal gave a rare smile at the idea. Now that’s something you don’t see every day, the Inquisitor thought as he saw a twinkle of selfishness in Silverstar’s eyes. The earth pony had long been in the stage of his career where he could do little but try and oil the machinery of government. The battles of his youth were long past him, and they hadn’t been too major when measured against the conflicts of Equestria’s long history. Silverstar, the Inquisitor knew, was as hungry for glory as he ever was; only now it would come in political victories rather than heroism on the battlefield.   They all knew that attaching his name to the proposals would, if they passed, elevate him to new standing. The public would love him for containing the power of the aristocracy and providing the country with a solid defence against foreign menace. This would be the price for Silverstar’s cooperation, and it would be more than enough to confirm his support.   The Marshal nodded sagely. “Well, I reckon that’s a reasonable idea. Parliament’s going to have to push this thing if we get the public behind it, and I don’t need to be modest about the public’s love for me.”   The corner of his mouth lifting in a victorious smirk, the Inquisitor turned to Duke Blueblood. “It seems, Your Grace, the odds might be against you.”   The Duke raised his head proudly – as if the barbs and worries of this meeting were now beneath him – and narrowed his eyes at his political rival. “I can also play this game, Inquisitor. I promise you that this program will never be passed. I shall fight it all the way.”   “You do that,” the Inquisitor said, his smile twisting maliciously. It wouldn’t be quite so much fun if I destroyed you without some kind of resistance. “Does anypony have anything they would like to bring up that doesn’t have to do with the contents of these files?” Silence and shaking heads. “Good. In that case, I’d like to wrap this up. If anypony wants to discuss this with me on a more private basis, feel free to contact my secretary. Good night.”   Slipping his file back into null-space, the grey stallion promptly rose to his hooves and wheeled around, heading back into the corridors of the palace. The Inquisitor stopped and pulled a pocket watch from within his jacket, briefly glancing at it. Plenty of time before brunch with Luna, he thought. He looked at a nearby mirror and, unable to resist the juvenile temptation, gave his reflection a wink.   Then he was off again, whistling the same simple, eerie tune as before, a mild smile hanging loose on his lips. Tonight is going to be a good night.  ============   “Tonight is going to be a good night!” Twilight beamed as she trotted down the pavement, tail swishing happily behind her.   Her escort, Proud Song, simply hummed in absent-minded affirmation as they walked. With the large, bat-winged Honour Guard behind her, traffic on the path parted like curtains before Twilight . Nopony wanted to be in her way while the thestral marched behind her like warped, disproportionate shadow.   With her saddlebag full of stationary and workbooks the little filly was eager to make the best of her new school. Her coat had been fussed over by royal beauticians; Nightmare Moon had insisted on that despite her protests. She wore a uniform – something she was entirely unused to – that consisted of a blouse under a brown sweater-vest and a tie of the same colour. Not usually one to wear clothes, the extra layer of wool and cotton felt a bit restrictive and the silk tie was ever moreso. Despite the alien feeling of her school uniform, Twilight did appreciate how neat and tidy it made her look. Twilight was confident that her first night of school would be spectacular. Her old school near the orphanage had been filled with foals who couldn’t care less about education. The attitude was detestable to her; the memory of all those lazy, unmotivated foals still made her angry. Some had even openly ganged up on anypony that showed any sign of eagerness or intellectual prowess. But this time will be different, she thought, nodding her head in private affirmation. The Imperial Academy for Gifted Unicorns was synonymous with advanced education. Everypony would doubtless be just as keen as she was to learn. Finally she could find others like her, with no petty circles or cliques to worry about. The Imperial Academy, she thought, is above foalish gossip and popularity contests. It’s the most respected school in the Empire, for Arche’s sake! A wide smile fixed in place, she eagerly trotted towards her new school.   The Academy was the newest addition to the palace compound, built a mere two hundred years before. It was a separate cluster of structures within the palace grounds rather than a wing of the main building. Twilight wanted her first night of school to be special. She wanted to be greeted by the wonderment of a courtyard full of students eager to learn as she walked through the main entrance, rather than anticlimactically slipping in through a side-entrance from the palace gardens. As a result, the filly had to take the long way; first heading out of the palace into uptown Canterlot, then around and back in through the more public main gate. When she reached her destination, Twilight felt that the spectacle was worth the extra effort.   Carriages continually arrived and departed from the main entrance, dropping off students. From ponies her age to high-schoolers on the cusp of graduating poured through the vast wrought-iron gates, above which stood a high stone archway engraved with the school motto, ‘Concordia cum veritate’ – 'In harmony with the truth'. Proud Song cut a path through the streaming crowd and Twilight pressed on with wide, bedazzled eyes.   It was the first time she had seen the Academy with classes in full swing. Now it was alive, and she was a part of its life. Ponies were everywhere, from foals as young as she was, excitedly chatting and giggling amongst themselves, to nearly-grown teenagers milling about in their circles of friends as they caught up after a season spent at home. The gates opened onto a sweeping plaza with a colossal fountain in the centre. The fountain itself was a spectacular sight. Even though the filly had seen it months before on the way to her entry exam, it was impossible not to feel awe in its shadow. The basin was huge – Twilight imagined a dragon curled into a ball could fit comfortably within its circumference – and in the middle stood a large two-tiered pedestal. Crowning the centrepiece was a tapering column that supported the bronze likeness of Starswirl the Bearded. He stood proudly, puffing out his chest and turning his eyes toward the heavens.   Other statues had been built on three rectangle platforms that jutted out from the main pedestal, depicting some of the greatest magic-users ever to grace Equestria. Lord Millamber stood as if in the middle of casting a spell, his great cloak billowing out in frozen waves and his hood blown back to reveal his maneless head. Weathersky the Farmer, the most powerful earth pony magician in history, was lying down, calmly studying a bronze flower. On the third spoke was the likeness of Red August of the Mask, his hood and cloak covering everything but the famous mask which stared impassively down on the river of students. Palace legend, as related to Twilight in Proud Song’s rumbling tones, held that the statue wore the actual mask of Red August, and if the bronze plating were scraped away and the mask removed, one could behold the sculptured image of his hideously scarred face… and then go mad. Benches ringed the fountain, although few students sat on them in light of the pressing need to get to lessons. At the edge of the plaza, the school’s massive buildings towered over the ponies below. The main building was opposite the entrance and featured many wide steps leading up to the massive front doors that were currently open for all the students. As Twilight knew it, though, that was not her destination. The preparatory school – for foals from her age up to thirteen – was located on a separate part of the Academy grounds   “I will be all right from here, Mister Song,” she said, turning to her escort. “Thank you for walking with me.”   “Nothing to it, Lady Twilight.”   The thestral saluted and wheeled around, launching himself into the air. Twilight turned to watch him fly away. Out of the corner of her eye, a particularly garish train of carriages drew her attention. Not unlike the royal carriage that she had ridden in when she left the orphanage shone with glossy varnish and polished precious metals. All were examples of expert craftsmanship, with engravings that could rival those in the Great Chantry. Enormous crests emblazoned on the doors clearly indicated which noble house each one belonged to.   The doors opened in eerie unison and half a dozen foals stepped out. They must have decided to arrive together, Twilight guessed. They assembled in a group, then began cutting through the crowd almost as effectively as Proud Song had with a very familiar white unicorn foal in the lead. What’s he doing here? Surely he didn’t actually pass the entrance exam!  Blueblood the Tenth smiled proudly as he strutted forward, surrounded by his noble- blooded friends. It looked as though special care had been afforded to the handsome colt’s appearance for the first night of school. His mane was as perfect as ever, but his whole coat positively shone as he walked, and his school uniform had to have been tailored to fit perfectly. He looked her way and, for a brief moment, they held eye-contact. Twilight immediately turned around and began walking.   It only took a few moments before she heard his gratingly sophisticated voice call out to her.   “Why hello there, Miss Sparkle!”   Against her better judgement, the filly stopped and turned around again, forcing a smile. “Hello, Prince Blueblood. I didn’t know you went to the Academy.”   “Oh, but of course! As if a little tutoring couldn’t overcome a mere exam. Every Blueblood has attended here since the school was founded; they’ve been waiting for me and my friends since we were born, thanks to our families’ generous contributions to the school.” In what was likely an entirely unconscious effort, the group’s heads rose together in aristocratic pride.   “Well… I guess that’s fair enough. I have to be heading to classes now, though, and I don’t want to be–”   “Oh, don’t worry about that!” he interrupted, stepping forward. His smile and overly- friendly tone set off alarm bells in Twilight’s head. Did he really hold no bitterness towards her for Orion's visit? “We will escort you there, won’t we?” The group nodded in response. “After all, we would hate for the Empress’s personal student to be tardy on her first night of school at the prestigious Imperial Academy.”   On this cue, the group surrounded her and pushed forward, forcing her to walk along with them. Blueblood stood uncomfortably close to her. Despite their odd behaviour, they seemed friendly. Perhaps they really did want to help her, but they were just going about it in a strange way? Twilight reminded herself to look up the intricacies of Equestrian chivalry when she got back to the palace.   “Thank you, I guess… I hope you aren’t still mad at me for what happened back at the willow groves.”   His friends shot him confused, questioning looks, which Blueblood shrugged off. “Think nothing of it, Miss Sparkle. A misunderstanding, that’s all, and I can forgive misunderstandings.”   They entered a building filled with schoolfoals in the same uniform as her and Blueblood’s group. They meandered through varnished wooden halls that reeked of history. Twilight wondered if the high school was just as grand as this place was. Sophistication and venerability were almost tangible in the air; the place instantly came to define intelligence and studiousness to the little unicorn.   “Speaking of forgiveness,” Blueblood’s voice tore her away from admiring the scenery. “Opulence here was telling me of how Her Majesty brought you to apologise to her sister after some sort of incident. I do so hope little Grace forgave you.”   At the prince’s gesture, Twilight turned and found an iris-coated filly looking down at her with a stiffly impassive face – such a stark contrast to the more mild expressions of the rest of the group. Her goldenrod eyes gave off a small, contained measure of disdain. Twilight remembered her apology to Grace. It hadn’t gone down as well as she hoped; Grace seemed only to offer a listless muttering of forgiveness upon the prompting of her father. Even after Twilight gave up all of her allowance (and many allowances to come) in order to buy the filly a new tiara, Grace had looked at her with eyes that held the steely, cold glint of an eternal grudge. It was very similar to how Opulence now looked at her. She returned Opulence’s stare with a nervous smile and hastily turned away.   “Grace is in your year, I believe,” Blueblood continued, very smoothly. “I’m sure she can tell everypony what a nice little filly you are.”   “Uh… yeah.”   They rounded a corner in the hallway and stopped abruptly. Blueblood gave a theatrical look of bewilderment that was obviously disingenuous even to Twilight’s youthfully naïve eyes. The white unicorn turned to her, not bothering to hide the delighted grin he had on his lips.   “Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten that this isn’t where your year’s classes are supposed to be,” he said. Their ears pricked as the bell rang. “I think you might be late after all.”   Twilight just stood there, eyes wide and mouth gaping. She stared at the smug, self-assured colt in front of her as anger rose up in her, ready to boil over. Of all the indecencies! Blueblood, it seemed, was as petty as they could come, and she wondered just how many more of these tricks and acts of revenge would he play before he would be satisfied.   Twilight gritted her teeth against her outrage. While she would have loved to berate and threaten him into submission, she really did not want to be too late to lessons. She gave Blueblood one last baleful look, trying her best to stab him with her glare, before growling and whirling around. She darted down the hallways, weaving through the crowds. Hopefully, she thought, my teacher won’t be too harsh. I mean, it’s only the first night of school.  ============   After a brief pause to ask for directions, Twilight found her classroom virtually on the other side of the building. She skidded to a halt in front of a door, doing her best to catch her breath, and opened it carefully. The filly poked her head inside to check whether it was definitely her classroom. The first thing she saw was a large unicorn standing at the board.   He stared at her with hawkish intensity; his eyes were a deep billiard-table green. His coat looked as if he had been dipped head-to-hoof in dark, rich wine, and his short mane the colour of umber. As Twilight expected of scholarly teachers, the stallion wore a grey tweed jacket over a green jumper, capping off the entire ensemble with a red bow-tie.   “You are late, girl,” he said. His voice was sophisticated and baritone and he spoke with a hint of condescending superiority.   “I… I’m sorry, I–”   “What is your name?”   “Twilight Sparkle.”   He nodded. “Repeat after me, Miss Sparkle: ‘I apologise profusely for my inexcusable tardiness’.”   The little filly hesitated for just a moment, confused. “I apologise profusely for my inexcusable tardiness.”   “And I shall circumvent the impossible and find it in my heart to excuse it,” the stallion said, raising his eyebrow. “You may call me Doctor Ash – or ‘sir’, as is preferable. Take a seat.”   Looking around, Twilight spotted an empty desk and scurried over. Whereas the palace’s seating consisted almost entirely of luxury furniture and plush cushions, a simple stool stood in front of her desk. Taking her seat, the filly unpacked her books, quills and inkwell in a fevered hurry. “Now that we are all here, I think we can begin,” the stallion said. “Being the greatest mind and most capable magic-user in Equestria, I have been dragged down from my position at the university by the personal command of Her Majesty, Empress Nightmare Moon to teach you all. Now that you are at this school, I – and my colleagues, I should hope – expect nothing less than perfection from all of you. From the preparatory school straight through to university, this academy boasts the highest quality of education in the world, and you will be expected to work at a level that is worthy of that reputation. In my class, anypony who is incapable of taking it upon themselves to actually learn the material and dive into the subject does not belong here.”   Doctor Ash faced the board and a piece of chalk floated in the air. The white stick scratched across the black surface of the board, leaving swirling, elaborate letters in its wake. When the stallion turned back to the class, the words “Thaumaturgy” now underlined behind him.   “Unless you have managed to slip into this academy under our noses from some simpleton school, you all will doubtlessly know this is the technical term for magic. What the laypony crudely understands as ‘marvel-working’ is both an art and a science. It can be understood, studied and quantified, but like any art, it has its whimsy and may be expressed in almost unlimited forms.”   He paused, scanning the class with a lazy casualness that bordered on ambivalence. His brow seemed almost permanently raised in a casual show of self-importance. “Now then,” he continued, somewhat more boisterously. “As I said, magic is a science. It is the projection of one’s will through the use of an extra-sensory power onto the world around you. It is the science of power. Under my tuition, you will study the theory behind magic, its components and branches, and its effects on the universe. Can anyone tell me what the four major known categories of pony magic are?”   A yellow-haired filly stuck a blue hoof into the air. Twilight recognised her as the noblepony she had bullied, Grace. “It’s a trick question,” the filly announced, lifting her head in pride at seeing through the ruse. “There are only three categories of pony magic: earth pony magic, pegasus magic and unicorn magic.”   Doctor Ash gave her a contemptuous look. “What is your name, girl?”   “Grace, of House Merryweather.” “Would anyone tell Miss Merryweather why she is so hideously wrong?” he asked. Nopony put their hoofs up. “Well, I guess I have been saddled with a class full of feckless wastrels. How disappointing.”   Timidly, Twilight lifted a hoof into the air. Green eyes fell upon her and he nodded. “Yes, Miss Sparkle?”   “The fourth is Immortal magic, though it's not limited to ponies. Immortals of any species can use it, and it encompasses all types of magic, even non-pony spells.”   “Very good, Miss Sparkle,” Ash said. “It seems, for the moment, that you are the least feckless wastrel in this class.”   Uh, thanks? Twilight gave a sheepish smile, assuming that it was in fact a compliment. In the corner of her eye, she saw Grace shoot her a glare filled with loathing. I guess now I know for sure that she didn’t accept my apology. Twilight shrunk down in her seat slightly, her smile wavering.   “Excuse me, sir?” Twilight turned to see a blue unicorn colt at the back of the class scowling with his hoof in the air. His mane was an unruly ice blue mess on top of his head while the rest of him was and similar in colour to his eyes. “Yes, what is it, Mister…?” “Blueshift; and what you said is wrong because you specifically asked for pony magic while Immortal magic, as the name suggests, is available to Immortals of any species, not just alicorns. So it’s not really a pony magic.” Ash snorted. “Just semantics, Mister Blueshift. Pony magic includes Immortal magic because it is, nowanights, used by an alicorn – a pony Immortal. The point remains that Miss Merryweather was wrong. Don’t be a smartarse.” The comment caught the whole class off-guard How could he say something like that to a student? Twilight thought, incredulous. The teacher carried on nonchalantly, paying no heed to his offended pupils.  Blueshift was especially miffed, grumbling to his neighbours. As the class went on, the other students seemed to recall more and more of their previous studies, and soon Twilight wasn’t the only one with correct answers. The purple filly, however, soon found herself wanting. The lesson, it seemed, was mostly geared to jogging everypony’s memories and starting them off on the right track; there was very little that was challenging about it, besides the odd difficult question Ash fired off that the study material hadn’t covered. She stared down at her notebook. I have all this written down already!  Doctor Ash continued in his peculiarly abrasive teaching style, often skirting close to what some might consider verbal abuse. But despite his cynicism, bluntness and declarations of intellectual superiority over every other faculty member in the school, he seemed to gladly throw himself into the lesson. Twilight even saw a smile tug at the edges of his mouth as he injected sneering witticisms and cutting jokes into his teaching. His voice began to take on a sing-song, narrative tone as he explained the concepts behind the different magics. Twilight began to wonder if he had missed his calling. Perhaps he should give up teaching and go into radio, she thought.   But with the class feeling like a needless relearning of topics everypony had already studied, Twilight eventually stopped taking notes and drifted off into her own thoughts. She flicked lazily through the textbook, searching for a random topic in later chapters that was newer and more exciting than revision. She had avoided notice for some time until Doctor Ash yelled a question at her. “Miss Sparkle, can you tell me what the Principle of the Three Planes is and its significance to thaumaturgical theory?” Twilight snapped her gaze from the book to her teacher, who looked at her impassively. She gulped, taken off-guard. “I… um… that isn’t in the syllabus!” “Exactly, but as you weren’t paying attention you must obviously know everything I have to say, so obviously you will be able to answer this question,” he droned sarcastically, a cruel smile coming to life on his face. “So?” All eyes on her, Twilight began to sweat. She forced her beating heart to calm and closed her eyes, trying to recall all that she learned from her books and Nightmare Moon’s lessons. Finally, she looked back up, staring straight at Doctor Ash. “The Theory of the Supreme Plane is the theory that magic ultimately originated from one perfect, metaphysical reality called the Supreme Plane that acts as foundational bedrock of our universe,” she began. The wine-red stallion flinched in surprise at her answer, but Twilight wasn’t done yet. “Magic is said to have ‘leaked’ from this reality into the Mortal Plane, where it fused with the environment and the creatures in it. Some ponies were able to use the magic to become wise and powerful enough to follow the magic back to its origin and permanently link themselves to the Supreme Plane. They became the first Immortals.” Doctor Ash blinked and, for a brief moment, his eyes held something other semi-disdainful regard for his young student. He recovered quickly, and the intellectual snobbery returned. He turned to the rest of the class and gestured to Twilight. “There we have it, children. Our new class Superstar,” he said in a manner that, from the small upward hitch in the edge of his sneer, Twilight guessed to be only partially mocking. “Take heed of her and know that in the kingdom of the witless, the half-wit is king. Also do remember that, as the only one with true wit, I am the god of this little kingdom of ours. Now, please pay attention…” Twilight grinned at her little victory, but soon noticed that many of the foals were still looking at her. Their looks were not friendly, especially Grace’s, who glared at her with newfound ire. Twilight’s grin fell and she sank shyly into her chair. The ringing bell signalled the end of the lesson and the beginning of break, and Ash swept the foals out of his classroom, commanding them to revisit the material or face “wrath, pain and poor grades”. Twilight tucked herself into a quiet corner beside a stairwell to read, but she had barely opened Starswirl and Clover: The Genesis of Modern Magic when another filly slid in next to her. Twilight suppressed a groan when she saw the yellow mane and perfectly groomed blue coat.   “Twilight Sparkle,” Grace said. Her tone was as domineering as any eight-year-old filly could make it, and Twilight found it utterly childish.   “What do you want, Grace?” she asked sullenly.   “I just want you to know that, even though I was forced to say it by my father in front of the Empress, I don’t forgive you.” With a flick of her head, she tossed her braid over her shoulder. “You’re a rude, insufferable nopony who thinks just because she has the Empress’s attention now, she is safe. Well, I can tell you that when Nightmare Moon’s favour passes, I’ll be there to make sure you get what’s coming to you.”   Twilight scowled and prepared a retort, but the words died without being said. What’s the point? she thought. I can’t just bicker with her and I can’t punish her myself – I promised Nightmare Moon I wouldn’t abuse my position again. She closed her eyes as her mind ran the scenario of such a thing. Twilight couldn’t face the possibility of Nightmare Moon ever being angry enough with her to stop her tutelage. She couldn't go back to the orphanage now. Even if that doesn’t happen, she thought, I made a promise to Nightmare Moon. I can’t break her trust. I can’t let her down.  “If you don’t like me, just leave me alone,” she muttered, fixing her eyes forward. Despite her determination to try and remain unfazed, her head drooped down a touch.   Grace flashed a wicked grin at Twilight's passive reaction. "Don't worry, Twilight Sparkle. I won't bother you. In fact, I don't think you'll be bothered by anypony at all..." Confused, Twilight turned to ask the noblepony what she meant, but Grace had already slipped away. The filly huffed, shaking her head, and opened her book again. I won’t let her get to me… I won’t.  Twilight grinned as she looked at her timetable. Though she loved all aspects of learning, there were some subjects that held a special place in her heart, and the rest of her day was composed of classes dedicated to her passions. History was one of them, just lagging behind astronomy and the study of magic, but as far as first impressions went, her history class seemed set up to be a disappointment. The teacher appeared unremarkable – a bespectacled, bow-tied stallion with a dull brown coat overlaying a wiry, thin frame. His name was equally unremarkable: ‘Russet Brown’. He was quiet and demure as the foals began to settle in, anxiously adjusting his bow-tie every so often. He explained to the class how this was his first time teaching and many of the children grinned. New teachers were easy to dupe. Twilight stifled a groan, fully expecting her historical education for this year to suffer for this teacher’s inexperience and nervousness. But then he began to teach. His dull brown eyes hidden behind the comically large glasses burned with a sudden intensity as he dove into his lecture. He captivated his class almost instantly. Speaking in a hushed, excited voice, it was as if he read from a story book. The filly was entranced by his retelling of the Macintosh Rebellion and the rise of the modern parliament. Even when the teacher deviated from the main material, going down a historical tangent with academic fervour that surpassed even Twilight’s interest of history, she felt so drawn in that, much to her regret, the minutes ticked away like seconds. Before she knew it, her next lesson was due.   When Twilight reached her maths class, she was greeted by what she first thought was a madly grinning cow. It turned out to be an earth pony mare with a pinto coat of black and white, and a frizzy mane of monochrome stripes. The mare was standing in front of a board on which enormous letters were scrawled to spell ‘Ms P’. “Heya, kids!” she hollered. “My name is Miss Feather Pillow, but I absolutely insist that you all call me Miss P! I’m going to be teaching you the groovy world of mathematics. I know what you’re thinking: ‘Ugh, math, such a bogus subject’. But it’s totally not! As long as I’m here to spice things up, it’s gonna be a blast!” The class stared at the mare with a mix of confusion, amusement and dread. It was barely minutes into the class that ‘Miss P’ dived headlong into the curriculum with reckless abandon. She wrote on the board so fast Twilight was surprised it hadn’t caused a fire from the friction. She breezed through complex calculations (that weren’t even part of their curriculum at times) with a bizarre commentary and she made such an overt effort at trying to connect to her young class by constantly attempting wacky humour and using an incredible mix of youth slang from the past couple of decades. It quickly became apparent that the class was more annoying than interesting. Her classmates trudged through the lesson without enthusiasm – all bored out of their skulls – while their teacher continued to act as if she had a cocktail of caffeine, sugar and various illegal substances injected into her, blissfully unaware of her students’ boredom. Twilight tried to ignore her teacher’s hyperactive insanity and her fellow classmates’ passionless indifference and immerse herself in her learning. The little filly was, if anything, a mathematical prodigy. The relatively simple beginners’ material of the first school night of the year was nothing to her, even though many of the other foals pushed through the equations with some difficulty. She was very soon finished with the numerous problems and practice questions Miss P had set, a proud smile coming to her lips at being the first pupil to complete the tasks.   Between this and her propensity to launch her hoof eagerly into the air and deliver a correct answer whenever the teacher asked a question, Twilight found that she hadn’t endeared herself to the other foals. The number of students – seemingly directed by the grudging Grace – glowering at her as teachers congratulated her grew with each lesson. The little unicorn was determined to push the foals’ behaviour out of her thoughts, but she could hear words like “nerd”, “suck-up” and “weirdo” in the fragments of their whisperings. The bell sounded the start of their lunch break, and it couldn’t have come soon enough. Twilight’s stomach growled as she packed her bag and dashed off to the lunch hall. She trotted through the throng of foals as quickly as she was able, hoping to avoid getting stuck in a queue. Unfortunately, Twilight arrived in the dining room to find it already rapidly filling up. The food line was already wrapped halfway around the enormous cafeteria. She groaned and sullenly took her place at the end, grabbing a tray.   The serving mare looked down at her with an expression that, while not radiating boredom or frustration, was nonetheless detached and business-like. Without even the slightest smile, the apron-wearing mare dropped a pile of asparagus spears onto the plate beside a scoop of potato casserole and pushed it back toward Twilight as she levitated the next student's plate. Twilight turned away just as efficiently and drifted away into the vast sea of colts and fillies that filled the vaulted room. The air was full of the humming din of chattering foals, most already packed in with their chosen groups. Twilight had been accepted into the Academy’s second year, and the majority of her classmates already had their circles of friends.  Most tables were crammed with foals, leaving her with very few options. She walked meekly up to a table that had one space left. Foals enjoying their lunch turned to her as she approached, regarding her with careful curiosity and suspicion.   “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked.   The foals looked at each other as if engaged in a silent conversation. One of them whispered to another, who stared at Twilight warily. His eyes fell onto the empty space and then back to the lavender filly several times. Finally, he forced a crooked smile.   “Uh, sorry, this is actually saved for one of our friends,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”   Twilight’s ears folded back at the rejection. She nodded solemnly and walked away. Behind her, she could hear them talking, thinking themselves out of her earshot.   “Whoa, can you believe she wanted to sit down next to us?” one said.   “I was kinda expecting her to start ordering us to make room,” added another.   “No, I heard she’s more subtle that that. Like she uses some kind of dark magic the Empress taught her to manipulate ponies' minds,” one of the foals interjected.   "I heard that the Empress tossed a colt in prison because he thought she was a servant and told her to fix a broken table!" Twilight heard no more beyond that. She trotted away faster, gritting her teeth to prevent herself from losing composure. Where did they hear all that? she wondered, then angrily shrugged it off. Whatever. I’m sure they’re just ignorant. They were probably really mean anyway.  But as Twilight stopped off at more tables, the same drama played out. She would be rejected, or excuses were made up. She started to see it in their eyes too. Like the foals at the palace, their expressions reflected fear, hatred and distrust. The noble foals, bedecked in opulence and finery, turned her away with mock politeness or stared at her with scowling, disapproving eyes as they refused her. Twilight quickly caught the careless whispers of other foals. There were rumours accusing of her being as haughty as any noble, a secret dark enchantress ready to manipulate any ‘friends’ she might gain, or a cruel bully of a filly, unstoppable thanks to her connections to the Empress. But, from what Twilight could gather, the school rumour mill mostly named her a strange loner that was best avoided, lest they incur the wrath of Nightmare Moon through one inevitable mistake or another.   In the end, Twilight was forced to wait until a table of foals finished their lunch and left before taking her place. She sat alone on the empty table, eating her lunch quietly. Is this it? she thought. Is this her revenge, telling everypony to avoid me? I knew the noble foals wouldn’t ever give me the time of night, but… what about the others? The filly looked back to a table that she tried to join. The foals were still there, laughing and chatting excitedly. They had shunned her for her eagerness, but wasn’t that prized in a place like the Imperial Academy?   It seemed now that her assumption that everypony wouldn’t care about popularity or gossip was wrong. Rumour, popularity and narrow-mindedness gripped this school just like any other, and now – for one reason or another – she was just one more freak in the eyes of her fellow students.   She frowned down into her casserole. In the back of her mind, a bitter part of herself stirred. So what? It doesn’t matter what they think of me. I’m not here for them. I’m here for learning. I’m here to study and be the best I can be. I’m here for me. Twilight closed her eyes and nodded to herself. I’m not here to socialise or make friends. They’d just get in the way of my studies anyway. It’s not like I needed many friends back at the orphanage, and between studying and Nightmare Moon and everypony else back at the palace, I won’t need any over here.  She left lunch quickly after that, trotting down the hallway, no longer paying heed to the fabulous academic venerability of the building. Twilight reached into her saddlebag and pulled out her timetable. A quick glance told her that her next lesson was a double period of “Practical Magic Application” out on the sports fields. She made for the fields at a canter, her spirits lifted at the promising subject. The fields were about as large as they could be in an urban school located on a mountain. However, there had been enough space between the actual city and the palace district to provide parks and fields that were really quite spacious. It was in one of these fields that Twilight found a dark grey stallion checking over a pile of equipment.   The stallion looked as beefy as a buffalo, with a mane that reminded Twilight of burnt orange peels shaved down into a butch cut. He was taller than most stallions, though still not reaching Nightmare Moon’s height. Hearing the little filly trotting towards him, the giant turned to her with a pair of stern, steely green eyes.   “What are you doing here, little filly?” he asked, his voice thick with the accent of a native Konnican.   “I’m waiting for the lesson to begin!” Twilight replied, smiling up at him.   The stallion mulled her words over before briskly nodding. “Just stay clear of me while I am working.” With that said he turned back around and resumed his task.   Twilight just shrugged and sat down nearby, pulling Starswirl and Clover from her saddlebag. Though she still had a significant amount of her lunch break left, when she began to read she barely noticed the time pass. Totally absorbed by her book, she completely tuned out the noises of the massive stallion’s labours, eventually forgetting he was even there. She had read only a few dozen pages when she was finally pulled out of her spell.   “Hello?”   Twilight looked up, finding a pastel violet unicorn looking down at her. Her kindly eyes, framed by a pair of thin silver spectacles, reminded Twilight of pink carnation petals. Her celadon mane was fastened into a bun that looked soft to the touch. The little filly smiled up at the mare.   “Hello.”   “How long have you been waiting here?”   “Oh, about... twenty minutes, I think,” Twilight frowned. “I’m not too sure.”   “You spent that much of your lunch break just... waiting?” the mare raised an eyebrow questioningly.   “I had a book,” the filly answered simply, her smile unwavering.   “Well... I suppose you are free to do whatever you want,” the mare pursed her lips in thought. “My name is Miss Springtime, by the way.”   The little lavender unicorn stood up and slipped her book back into the saddlebag. She had just noticed the large stallion had finished setting up the equipment that would be needed for the lesson. There were a variety of focussing tools and weights and puzzles that Twilight recognised from her sessions with Nightmare Moon. There were larger things too, from an inflatable pool filled with water to a complete obstacle course. She was quite surprised that the stallion had managed to get it all together in time for the class.   She focussed back on the mare in front of her, responding courteously, “I’m Twilight Sparkle, pleased to meet you.”   “Oh yes, the Empress’s student!” Miss Springtime’s face lit up. “I’ve heard about you. I look forward to having you in my class. Tell me, how many spells do you know?”   “Um... not that many, I think. But the Empress taught me many different versions of those spells, and all the different ways I could apply them!”   “Well, I should have expected no less. After all, creativity is what separates a good magician from a great one,” Springtime smiled and nodded her approval. “Though I’m sorry to say we won’t be doing anything very advanced tonight. It’s really just something to ease everypony in.”   It was only a few moments later that the rest of Twilight’s classmates began to arrive. They all looked at the pieces of equipment with mixed reactions. Most, especially the colts, were verbally excited about the obstacle course and the complicated puzzles that probably looked to them more like toys than tools. A few others, particularly Grace Merryweather and her upper class friends, looked unenthusiastic. They gathered in a group in front of Miss Springtime, with Twilight slipping in amongst them.   “Welcome, my little ponies, to your Practical Magic Application class, or as we like to call it, ‘Prac-App’. While you may read massive books, write endless essays and answer countless tests in other classes, I can promise you that my classes will be much more enjoyable. Learning should be an experience, not a chore,  and as you may have guessed from the name of the class, we will be doing things that are a lot less writing-intensive and more physical. I will be teaching you different types of magic and how to apply them. Now, being a competent, powerful magic-user requires you to...”   Twilight tuned the rest of the teacher’s monologue out after that. Nightmare Moon’s taught me all this before: creativity, imagination and ingenuity in shaping spells and applying them to different problems. The dangers of magic and the ways to channel it. Twilight swore that Springtime had repeated what Nightmare Moon had once said word-for-word at times. When at last she finished talking, the teacher guided the students through the range of their psychokinetic abilities. At first, it was basic: the simply mechanics of telekinesis. Then she elaborated on the skill needed for different methods of telekinesis. While Twilight knew how and why tapping a pony’s shoulder required a much different approach than lifting a large rock, it was at least fairly interesting to hear the basics from a new perspective. Although from the looks on her classmates' faces, it seemed that they disagreed and were impatient for Miss Springtime to move on. And she did so, describing how a unicorn could also make invisible but tangible shapes with the force of their telekinetic magic. The mare demonstrated by scooping up a volume of water and shaping it into a sphere before letting it splash back down into the pool. A particularly strong magician could, she said, make a rudimentary shield, though it would only really protect against slow-moving projectiles; the strength of a unicorn’s telekinesis was dependent on the strength of the unicorn themselves. It was then that Miss Springtime called for the students to demonstrate their skills for her, pointing to the equipment laid out for them. Most of the students were surprisingly competent for their age, bending the water in arcs around their heads. Of course, Twilight thought. You have to be good just to get into the Academy. In fact, she herself quickly gained a sense of her classmates' capabilities from watching their skills at work. Those who had difficulty with even this basic spellcraft had to make up for their lack of magical talent with their intellects. Twilight twisted around as she heard a yelp. Two colts had taken to scooping up water and throwing it at each other, and the tomfoolery had begun to escalate into a small fight. They were both completely soaked by the time Springtime’s massive assistant stepped in. He lifted the two squabbling foals and split them apart, stepping back for the teacher to discipline them “You two!” she snapped, raising her voice to a decibel that didn’t quite reach a shout. “What in the name of the Ascended do you think you’re doing?” If they were wiser, the colts would not have replied. They would have known not to make their situation worse with pointless attempts to defend themselves. But, in the end, even though they were intelligent enough to get into the Academy, they were still eight. “He started it!” one of them cried. “You snitch!” the other growled before turning to Miss Springtime. “He was the one who started it! He threw the water at me for no reason!” They would have quickly descended into bickering had the teacher not intervened. “Both of you stop this now!” They froze. She continued. “It doesn’t matter who started it, because you both allowed it to get out of hoof. This is a lesson and I have been very trusting in letting you do this practical, and if you can’t act maturely or sensibly, then I will have to treat you like kindergarteners and give you a time out. Now, go sit over there by the side. I don’t want to see you within five feet of each other.” As they sullenly walked to their assigned punishment, the little purple filly rolled her eyes and the two colts’ behaviour. Why must they be so immature? Didn’t they understand the opportunity they had here? The joys of learning and the need for focus? Twilight held back a grunt of frustration. It only further proved to her that the foals at this prestigious school were no different from those at her old school. It was like they didn’t even care about their education. It might have only been the first night of school, but already Twilight felt a bit disgruntled at her fellow pupils’ behaviour. She decided to put them out of her mind and focus on her task. She scanned the equipment available and was disappointed to find that they were all too basic for her level of skill: balls, weights, puzzles, none offering more than a mild challenge for Twilight. Trotting over to the pool, desire for some kind of intellectual stimulation rising, she stared at it thoughtfully. While the other foals were treating everything more like a game, Twilight knew better. She saw more than a hint of Nightmare Moon in Miss Springtime's methods, and she sensed that the teacher had quietly presented them with a problem to solve. That was what teachers did, after all; there was no way that this wasn’t some sort of test. It was obvious. Miss Springtime had spoken at length about the ingenuity and skill that are vital in a magician, and how any basic spell could become something truly wondrous. Twilight knew all she had to do was use the mundane objects before her to make something spectacular and creative. A grin spread across the unicorn foal's face. She marched over to the pool, a plan already forming in her mind. If Miss Springtime wants to see something impressive, then she will. Twilight would pass this exercise with flying colours, she was certain of that. Her horn glowed as she probed the water, picking up a litre in a shimmering sphere. She knew how difficult it was to pick water up from her attempts to impress the others at the orphanage during her visit. Unlike a solid, she couldn’t absent-mindedly grip it. Instead, she needed to make a hollow shape with her levitation to act as a container, then actively focus to maintain it. A quick inspection of the volume told her that she didn’t have enough water and Twilight struggled to hold her water in the air while withdrawing more out from the pool. When she assumed to have enough, Twilight carefully combined the two invisible containers into one. Twilight checked to see if Miss Springtime was watching – there was no point to this if the teacher couldn’t see her achievement. As luck would have it, Miss Springtime was indeed watching. In fact, as Twilight gathered her water, the eyes of many of her classmates turned to her, curious as to what the infamous filly would do. Now comes the hard part, she thought. The purple unicorn’s brow creased in deep focus. She stared at the mass of liquid suspended in the air with young, calculating eyes and began the next step. Morphing her psychokinetic field, she made several appendages spring from the orb, which water quickly filled. Steadily prodding and moulding her invisible container, she painstakingly shaped a life-sized image of a pony. Water sloshed around in the hollow telekinetic creation as Twilight brought it down to the ground. It was similar to the pony form she had made out of water for Moondancer and the others, except this time she used a larger volume to shape a more detailed and lifelike figure, and this time, she wanted to make it move. Twilight was getting a headache by the time she could make it walk. Unlike the self-guiding water elementals that could be cast by powerful magicians, she had to move her liquid facsimile like a doll, manipulating each part manually. It took a while for her to figure out how to mimic the gait of a pony, and even when she did it was slow and jerky. The finale came. Sweat beaded down her forehead and eyes blurred from the sheer effort and concentration needed to sustain her creation, but Twilight still wanted one final push. She had abandoned her initial plan of making the water-doll run the obstacle course, underestimating how energy-sapping simply holding it together was. She didn’t even notice her peers’ staring anymore; she was entirely focussed on the task before her. Its motions became smoother as she practiced and she decided to make it trot. She had a basic grasp of the mechanics behind a natural pony trot and translated it reasonably well into her creation. While by no means graceful, it looked real enough. At her will, the water-doll made a few laps around the pool before finally it leaped into the air and vanished into the pool with a splash. Twilight released her magic with an exhausted gasp, panting as she turned to Miss Springtime. “Do…” she paused for breath, swallowing to lubricate her dry throat. “Do I pass?” The violet mare raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Pass? What do you mean?” “The exercise!” the filly cried. “You gave it to us to see how creative we can be with a simple bit of magic like telekinesis.” The teacher’s eyes widened and she stared at Twilight for a few moments longer, before finally bursting into laughter. “Oh Twilight! You’re getting far too ahead of yourself. This isn’t a test; there’s no pass or fail.” “Wh-what? But then… what was the point of it?!” “The point? This is the first night of school, and you’re all only eight or nine years old. The ‘point’ of this exercise is to have some fun before we get into the more serious stuff,” the mare said, smiling. Twilight’s jaw dropped and she stopped short of gasping. The teacher of such a prestigious school giving them an exercise just for fun when they were all there to learn? “But Mister Ash said that the lessons here aren’t for time-wasting and we’ll constantly have to work hard to be our best.” As Springtime replied, her voice took on a harsh cast. “Well, Twilight Sparkle, if you want my opinion, then I’ll say that Mister Ash is just a stuffy old blowhard who’s just bitter about having to get down off his high horse and work with foals. He wouldn’t know the way to treat young fillies and colts if it stared him in the face.” Then, she smiled brightly again and continued in a happier tone. “But in any case, not everything’s a test, silly. I am, however, very impressed with your skill. I can see Her Majesty made a good choice in picking her student. Now...” She turned to the crowd of schoolchildren. “Everyone needs to get back to the practical, please. We've had enough lollygagging for tonight! If anypony needs me, I’ll be talking to Mister High Hammer over there.” Springtime walked away, leaving Twilight alone in front of a crowd that hadn’t yet dispersed. They continued to look at her. The little filly shuffled awkwardly under their gazes, pawing at the ground. A flush of embarrassment coloured her cheeks red. Were they going to congratulate her on her display, perhaps forgetting all those nasty rumours or would they– “Ugh, what a show-off.” She didn’t know where the voice came from within the crowd, but it stabbed at her heart. Her ears downturned and she shied away from them. "I don't see magic!" Miss Springtime called, and the crowd finally began to disperse. Foals went to resume their activities and games with the equipment while Twilight slinked off to the side, tired from her exertions and gloomy from the humiliation. All she wanted now was for this night to end.   ============ Twilight was surprised to see Nightmare Moon come to collect her from the Academy personally. Flanked with her Honour Guards, she caused quite a stir at the main entrance. Ponies bowed as the Empress walked towards the massive fountain in the centre of the plaza where her student sat. “Twilight Sparkle,” she said, offering a warm smile. “As I have finished all of my duties for the night early, I thought I would see you back to the palace myself.” “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Twilight said, smiling. Nightmare Moon’s consideration certainly cheered her up, but the events of her first night of school still weighed heavily on her mind and her smile wasn’t as bright as it could have been. The Empress seemed to pick up on this. “Are you all right, Twilight?” she asked. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she nodded. The Empress looked unconvinced, but whatever thoughts she had, she kept them to herself. “How was your first night at the Academy?” “It was…” Terrible, Twilight thought, and she knew Nightmare Moon would ask her why. She would keep probing until Twilight finally buckled and it all came out in tears and pathetic snivels. How Blueblood made her late; how Grace Merryweather decided to try and make her life there miserable; how the vicious rumours about her circulated; how she humiliated herself in class and how the foals treated her. She could tell the Empress of Equestria everything, and in an instant the great black alicorn would descend upon her problems and pick them apart ruthlessly. But what would that get her? Nothing but more scorn and fear and confirmation of the rumours. She would be the spoilt little tyrannical freak that they thought her to be. And she couldn’t let Blueblood and his associates think she needed to be babysat by Nightmare Moon. Besides, she added indignantly, I’m not a tattle-tale. “It was fine,” she finished. “Well, as long as it was not a disaster, then that is probably satisfactory,” Nightmare Moon replied. “Come along now, Twilight. It will be dinner soon. I asked Mister Ram Sea to cook something special to celebrate your first night at the Academy.” That certainly made Twilight feel a little bit better. She trotted beside her tutor, smiling to herself as she began to think. It was like she thought at lunch; she didn’t really need friends at school. Who cared what they thought? All she needed to do was focus on her studies – those were the things that mattered. Besides, she had all the friends she needed in Orion. She nodded in affirmation. As long as Orion is around, it’ll be all right.