• Published 16th Sep 2014
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Yaerfaerda - Imploding Colon



Rainbow Dash and the Noble Jury continue to fly east.

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Chapter One of the Princess Diaries

“All Val Roan deer and elk possess magical abilities, channeled through their horns. Though Prince Eine of the House of Evo isn't yet a buck, he'll certainly be no exception.” The crimson sheen of a sunset wafted across Arcanista's muzzle with a thin slit from a side window in the wagon. She held a chalice full of clear liquid before her and gave it a tiny zap of electrical energy from a fixed point in her forehead. “Even does and cows—lacking horns—can manifest mana. See?” The liquid inside the chalice lit up with a bright blue glow.

“Cooooooooool...” Kera blinked. She then smiled. “Bet you can't make it explode! Hah!”

Arcanista's lips curved slightly. “That's something I also wish to bring up.” She placed the chalice down and weathered a few bumply jerks in the wagon ride. “I've learned that you have quite the proficiency in your own magical abilities.”

“Dang straight!” Kera tilted her chin up proudly. “Taught by the best! Hugged by the rest!”

“You've even personally dispensed with goblins of the Cartels, yes?”

“I've shoved more imps into a lake than you can shake a cudgel, at!” She blinked, then giggled at herself. “Heehee! Pilate will be so proud of me! I'm saying 'cudgel.'”

“Well, I'm afraid you'll have to restrain from doing so for the next forseeable future.”

“What? Saying 'cudgel?'”

“I mean performing magic, dear.”

Kera's green eyes twitched. “Wh-What?!”

“At least so excessively.”

“But... b-but I'm supposed to be a Xonan monarch!” Kera gaped. “We're supposed to be all about magic!” She blinked, then her tattooed face scrunched. “I think.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah. Mana this and mana that. Fill in the rest with chaos dragons. Question marks. Profit.”

“Well, that may be true back in Xona...” Arcanista's lips curved slightly. “Or in the fictitious version of Xona... but in this particular situation, you will have to be a diplomat first and a Xonan Warrior second.”

“Awwwwwwww... where's the fun in that?”

“Do not worry. There will come a time when Val Rona custom dictates the optional display of your psionic expertise, but—even still—there are certain checks and balances to keep in mind.”

“Such as...?”

Never... ever perform magic in front of the Prince,” Arcanista said with a firm gaze. “Unless—of course—prompted to, in which case...”

“Blow stuff up?!” Kera grinned.

“...you are cutomarily prohibited from outperforming the Prince at any feat of magic.”

Kera's jaw dropped. “NOW you've gotta be making a manure bag out of me!”

“And less four letter words, dear.”

“That was a six letter word.”

“Horses for courses.” Arcanista's eyes were form. “For this charade to work flawlessly, you must be both discreet and unassuming. It does not help your image to come across as the strong, capable tomcolt you really are.”

“I don't believe this...” Kera turned her neck as far as the neck of her blouse would allow her. “Rainbow?!” She pointed at the Duchess. “Can you believe this?!”

Hell naw!”

Arcanista sighed. “Miss Dash, you are not helping...”

Ebon Mane asked, “Just what kind of magic can the King... er... Prince soon to be king perform?”

“The House of Evo hasn't been trained in classical magical feats,” Arcanista said. “Not since the family claimed the throne three centuries ago. Dukes and Duchesses—such as Floyd and myself—are traditionally called upon in battle. It would be strategically unsound for the reigning monarch of Val Roa to see action, himself.” She glanced aside at Kera. “Eine won't be expected to do much more than light the torch at his coronation ceremony. So, as expected, no pyrokinesis whatsoever is to be expected from anyone visiting.”

“Ugh!” Kera folded her forelimbs, sulking. “This trip gets lamer and lamer by the minute!”

“Think of it this way.” Rainbow leaned over. “Would you rather be back on the Jury, getting your mane washed and reconditioned by Belle?”

“... ... ... so, when do we cover curtsies and tea time?”

Arcanista smiled while the two maids giggled.


Ebon's “tattooed” face contorted as he read off a sheet of paper in the light of a campfire. “Sala'themurell he'menna'semdel... th-thiulen kr-kr-kraat'zenna threatta, Valr'mulien tr-trenna'demh...”

“No no no no no no...” Kera paced across the dry crunching grass and slapped her tiny hoof over the middle fo the sheet. “Don't read from that! Read from the second part!”

“But...” Ebon Mane leaned back with a frustrated sigh. “I don't get it...!”

The two wagons were parked at a forty-five degree angle to one another, enclosing the campfire where Rainbow, the Duchess, and the two servants sat, eating a humble meal while warming their hooves. Starry night hung over the tranquil little spot in the middle of an enormous field. In the distance, beyond the orange penumbra of the firelight, Floydien and Jake trotted in slow circles, keeping watch on the pitch black horizon and the lone dirt highway cutting from one end of the darklit plain to the other.

“What's not to get?” Kera asked.

“Anything! Everything!” Ebon exhaled heavily. “What am I doing wrong here?”

“You're reading the wrong words.”

“Wrong words?” Ebon blinked. “They're all jibberish to me!”

“Yeah, but the first few lines are my jibberish!” Kera pointed again. “This is Upper Caste Xonan speech! It's for monarchs and kings and queens and the like!”

“Then what am I supposed to say?”

That!” Kera pointed at the middle-most paragraph. “That's for warriors and politicians and aristocrats!”

“But... isn't it the same language?”

“Yuh huh.”

“So... like... wh-what's the difference?”

“Mmmmm...” Kera's ears twitched as she smoothed out the folds in her dress. “My speech is a lot fancier n'stuff.”

“Fancier?”

“Yeah. It's got—like—a boat load of apostrophes and the letter 'l.'”

“Uhhhm...”

“But don't worry! Yours is cool too! The warrior dialect!” Kera winked. “Lots of hyphens and heavy stresses and stuff! Just pretend you're swinging an invisible sword every time you speak as my royal advisor!”

“Don't you mean 'cudgel?'” Rainbow muttered with a mouthful of oats.

“Stay out of this... uhhhh... 'Equest'mulien trennte!'” Kera stuck her tongue out. “This conversation is for tattoos only!”

“Mrmmmff... good thing I skipped out on that one spring break in Las Pegasus, or else you'd count me in.”

“Whatever.” Kera spun to face Ebon again. “Let's hear it, Ebon! Do your best warrior speech! Rrrrrr! Go go go go!”

“Uhhh...” Ebon cleared his throat and read through the sentence. “'Menthuul renakaan sekuul thriul vemnar threatta sien Kera Xon-Nagu'n...” Ebon accidentally bit his tongue and winced. Seething, he glanced up. “Could you at least tell me what these words mean?!”

Kera shrugged. “I'unno.”

Ebon did a double-take. “Wait... you mean it's real jibberish?”

Concentrate!” Kera frowned. “Your tattoos...”

The changeling winced. He held his breath, reforming the swirly patterns across his “coat.” “Kera, what's the meaning of this?”

“I never once said I actually spoke pure Xonan.”

“But... but I thought you understood—”

“Sure, when it's written down. And only sometimes.” The filly shrugged. “Speaking, though? Whew boy!” She rolled her eyes with an innocent smile. “That's a whole 'nother story!”

Ebon gulped. “Won't that... uhm... b-be a problem?”

“Pfft. Why's it gotta be a problem?”

“Uhhhh...”

“I just throw together a bunch of words starting with consonants and add 'trentte' and 'dreit' and 'Xon-Nagu'n' at random! So long as you're confident with the bullcrap...” Kera grinned. “Somepony out there's gonna eat it... even after they sniff it!” She winked. “Besides, what do these Val Roan idiots know about the real Xonan anyways?”

A voice cleared.

“My bad, Duchess.”

“Do carry one,” she said in a humored tone.

“So...” Kera cracked the joints in her neck and smirked at the shape-shifter. “You ready to perfect Dyslexia 101 or what?”

Ebon took a deep breath. “...dreit.”

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