The cape fastener and the open road
Come One, Come All and Be Amazed!
Today Only! Rain or Shine!
You Will Not Want To Miss the Wondrous Magic of
THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE
Sundown, at the Luxurious Trotville Square
General Admission Only 5 Bits!
Star Blossom tilted her head as she examined the flyer hanging precariously from Dad’s mouth as it fluttered in the wind: so many letters, scrawled boisterously in all shapes and sizes; a stamped image of a caped mare wearing a pointed hat, her fore-legs lifted above her head, with fireworks exploding in all directions—whoever this was they were going to watch, she was nothing like the modest, workaday ponies that lived within this remote town populated mostly by earth ponies and located in the harsh climate of the San Palimino Desert in western Equestria. What set the performer most apart was that she was a unicorn, just like Star and her parents.
“I hope this is the right place,” Mom said as her eyes scanned the dirt between Dusty Tail’s General Store and the saloon, where a small stage and a few stanchions had been erected for the occasion. A handful of impatient-looking ponies milled about in front of the stage.
“Uh bump fink—” As Star’s father began to speak, an intense gust dislodged the flyer from his mouth, sending it twirling into the distance. “I don’t think anything else interesting is going on tonight for miles.”
“Maybe we should head back,” said Mom, her eyes still shifting uncomfortably. “There’s barely anypony here and it’s getting dark. Star really shouldn’t be out so late.”
“But you promised!” Star pleaded. “Right Dad?”
“Yeah, you promised,” Dad said, looking at Mom, mimicking his daughter’s wide-eyed expression. “Unless they changed the calendar system since we left Manehattan and nopony told us, I think Star’s birthday only happens once a year.” Dad smiled at Star. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Star giggled and nuzzled Dad.
Mom rolled her very active eyes and looked at the stage. “Okay, children, let’s go. Maybe if we hurry we’ll get front-row dirt.”
They made their way to where the other ponies stood, situating themselves to the right of the stage near a set of stairs. Star began jumping excitedly, glad not to be stuck at home spending the evening doing homework and chores.
Dad pulled Star close for a tight hug. “Who’s this one horse town’s best little unicorn?” Dad vigorously tousled Star’s mane, causing her to burst into uncontrollable laughter. “That’s right, it’s—“
“The Great and Powerful Trixie,” said Mom unenthusiastically. “Maybe it’s a revolutionary new sort of barn cleaner. Now that would be worth five bits.”
“I’m surprised she’s not charging more,” said a new voice from behind them, in a deep drawl. The aging earth stallion could be described, at best and at worst, as rustic. “Would you believe she’s letting me keep four bits per head to add to the town’s upkeep fund? That there’s eighty percent!”
Dad turned around and fished for bits in his satchel. “Dusty Tail! It's good to see you, buddy. Maybe she thinks she’s just that good that we’ll throw all of our bits at her after the show?”
Dusty caught the bits in his hat. “I reckon she just puts on these shows to sell merchandise; that’s where the real money is. But I ain’t one to judge.” Dusty smiled, and turned his attention and hat to the other members of the audience.
Just then the ground shook with the roll of an unseen bass drum and the sky turned pitch black. Star glanced nervously up at Dad, and he returned a reassuring smile.
“Come one, come all!” boomed a deep but unmistakably feminine voice. “Come and witness the amazing magic of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
A large volume of smoke rose seemingly from the wood of the stage surface, swirling in mesmerizing patterns around them and forming dense clouds shaped like prancing pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies. Lightning arced quickly between various smoke-ponies in a pulsating pattern. The roll of the ethereal bass drum grew louder and the smoke at the center of the stage dissipated. With a flash, a magical aura appeared then wisped away, revealing a blue unicorn wearing a purple hat and matching cape fastened by a large, glistening gem.
Trixie stood on her hind hooves, her fore-legs splayed triumphantly outward. “Behold, it is I, Equestria’s most-esteemed practitioner of the art and science of the arcane! Hailed in all the land for single-hoofedly defeating the dreaded Ursa Major! Worshipped in Saddle Arabia as a minor deity and voted The Most Interesting Mare in the World by Pony Magazine twice-running!”
Mom squinted her brows and looked at Dad, whispering. “Which Pony Magazine have I been reading?”
Trixie raised her fore-legs in the air and flailed them dramatically, sending bright fireworks of every color in all directions. The handful of ponies in attendance stomped their hooves on the dirt in applause. Trixie closed her eyes and appeared to revel in their appreciation of her talents. Star couldn't help but notice a faintly glowing pink substance colored not unlike Trixie’s magical aura wafting up from where the audience stood. It floated toward—then entered—the gem holding Trixie’s cape together, causing the gem to shimmer. Trixie exhaled and smiled, striking a jubilant pose.
Dad looked down at her daughter. “Hey sweetheart, it’s just like on the flyer.”
Star didn’t hear him; her mouth agape, she was absolutely transfixed.
—~**~—
After the show, Star’s parents nodded approvingly at each other.
“Well, I've never seen anything like that before,” Mom said, catching her breath as if she’d been holding it since the show started.
Dad smiled. “I agree. Worth every bit, don’t you think, Starry?”
Star kept her attention on the stage. If she kept her attention focused there, maybe the night wouldn’t end.
“Look, she’s glowing,” Mom said with a sarcastic tone typical of her seemingly emotionless demeanor, which was immediately betrayed by a smile, possibly the first one since they had left the house.
Star turned around abruptly, bouncing up and down. “I want to talk to her!”
“I don’t know Star, it’s getting late,” responded Mom.
“But Mom, please! Dad?”
Dad furled his brow a bit. “Well, see, now’s usually bedtime for little ponies. But—”
“—but I want to ask her about the gem on her neck and—”
Mom interjected, “I thought we left high fashion in Manehattan where it belongs,” before Star or Dad had a chance to finish their sentences.
“A valid question, young and perceptive pony,” a familiar if now comparatively muted voice explained. Trixie stood on the stage-steps in front of them. “One that I will graciously set aside my time to answer if you would stay just awhile longer and indulge me.” She removed her hat, placing it beside her.
“Is this where you sell us the merchandise?” Mom deadpanned.
“Whatever gave you that idea? The Great and Powerful Trixie does not dabble in trifling retail ventures.”
Dad grinned uncomfortably, looking at Mom. “I think we can spare a few moments for our daughter and Miss Trixie, can’t we, dear?”
Trixie cleared her throat. “That would be the Great and Powerful Trixie Lulamoon to you, but this all-knowing master of the arcane realizes you mean no disrespect. In fact, I would be most grateful if you and your wife would stay close to your daughter as I tell the tale, for it is a bit dark in its subject matter, but sure to inspire even the most impassive of ponies.” Trixie glanced in Star’s mother’s direction for a moment then turned her attention to the young unicorn. “Now tell me, what is your name?”
“Star Blossom, ma’am. And maybe one day I can be great and powerful just like you!”
“Many aspire to my greatness, child, but fear not, for there is much time for you to discover your special talent. None since my own parents have possessed my unique abilities—which leads me to that which I shall share with you this evening: the story of the cape fastener and the open road.”
—~**~—
As difficult as it may be for you to believe, the Great and Powerful Trixie was not always the confident mare standing before you. Not long ago I too was a young filly bursting with ambition and imagination, but unsure where to place either, as I was rather timid and quite often kept to myself.
Your mother and father can probably attest that, until recently, times were difficult for all but the wealthiest of Equestrians. Ponies took whatever jobs they could to make ends meet; lucky were those who were able to follow the call of their cutie mark and still earn their keep. Such was the case with my own parents, who were forced to take work as members of the Wonderful Traveling Circus. While this may sound like fun to you, it was hard work, and the prospect of being simple entertainers disheartened them.
You see, I come from a long line of skilled magicians. Once, my forebears served the Royal Court in Canterlot, providing needed services for the nobility, including Princess Celestia herself. It is said a Lulamoon was a close confidant of Princess Celestia’s right-hand pony, the powerful wizard Starswirl the Bearded, who was a revolutionary in the field of unicorn magic, elevating it to previously unseen heights of power. Through the generations we have preserved Starswirl’s legacy so that it may never be forgotten.
But I digress. I was little aware of my ascendant lineage as a young filly growing up among the circus performers. All I knew was a life of constant travel. My only solace came from the constant attention of my parents who, as expert illusionists, taught me everything they knew about magic. Nevertheless, in the economic climate of the day they felt it right that I should be allowed to choose my own path rather than necessarily follow in their hoofsteps. And so I watched the other circus performers display feats of great skill and derring-do: there were tight rope walkers, fire eaters, trapeze artists, jugglers, unicycle riders and—my personal favorite—the manticore tamers. I knew not whether any of them had chosen this life or, through some circumstance, it had chosen them. I did know that, like my parents, they were the very best in their chosen field, so I would be wise to learn all I could in order to find my calling.
As time passed I became quite enamored with the bravery of the manticore tamers. I imagined that joining their ranks would bolster my self-confidence and allow me to become more outgoing. After months of watching them quietly from atop bales of hay, I mustered the courage to speak to them as they rehearsed.
“H-hello?” I said haltingly, trotting slowly out from the corner of the circus tent and propping myself up on the muzzle-high barrier designed to reassure the audience that they would not be a manticore’s next lunch.
“Hi there, young one!” responded Mr. Gallant, the big-boned stallion who was their leader. He whistled, signaling a manticore into his cage after a number of jumps through a fire hoop. “You’re the Lulamoons’ child, right?”
“Y-yes, my name is Trixie. I just wanted to say, I really enjoy the work you do with the manticores.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you think so. As long as you mind the barrier, feel free to watch some more.” He let out a guttural chuckle. “Not that I have to give you permission. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you up there in the hay pile during nearly every training session.”
I had not realized my presence was that noticeable. In hindsight I suppose my magnificence was apparent even then. In any case, I did not want the moment to be awkward. If I was to learn about manticore taming, now was the time to speak up.
I cleared my throat and stood on my hind legs to give the appearance of bravery. “Mr. Gallant, sir, do you think, maybe, you have space in your troupe for a manticore-tamer’s apprentice?”
Thankfully Mr. Gallant did not laugh me all the way back to my trailer and instead seriously considered my proposal. My parents were initially reluctant to let me study with him due to the hazardous nature of the work, but they did not dismiss the idea out of hoof. They implored me to wait until I was older and had a bit more strength in me.
After a few weeks Mr. Gallant came to my parents with a proposal. While speaking privately with us in our trailer, he explained that several of the manticores were quite aged; it was feared they would pass very soon. Without the financial resources to acquire new ones through the exotic animal trade, the troupe would need to tame them in the wild. Mr. Gallant admitted that they had never attempted such a venture, and was convinced that my parents could teach me illusory spells so that I could calm them, or entice them to enter a cage, albeit from the safety of a wagon.
My ever so clever parents had a better idea—one that required less work and allowed the manticore troupe to utilize the resources they already had. My mother produced a gem from a chest underneath the desk where they studied new spells and identified it as the Gem of Exalted Life. She asked Mr. Gallant to allow the elder manticores to rest, and to watch them closely until it was clear they were nearing their final breath. It was then that I would be called to cast a Spell of Passage to capture their soul at the moment of their passing. From there, the manticores would be given existence anew as ethereal beings who could be summoned to perform whenever needed. Mr. Gallant responded to the idea favorably, reasoning that the so-called “ghost manticores” would heighten the circus’s prestige.
And so it was that my mother fashioned a small patterned sheet into a cape, and fused a clip to the Gem of Exalted Life so that it could be used to fasten the cape. She explained that, this way, I would have the gem available for my use at a moment’s notice, and that the cape would keep me warm for the approaching winter (typical doting mother). Maybe one day, she said, she would sew me a larger cape and matching hat just like hers when I became a full-grown mare. Since then I have learned to never underestimate the prestige and utility a good cape and hat can provide.
All told, the spell and gem both performed their function swimmingly. This cemented my place among the manticore troupe as an invaluable asset. I learned that ghost manticores require just as much care and attention as living ones, for the Gem of Exalted Life could not contain them indefinitely without the love and adoration of the audience. As long as we continued to perform to the best of our ability and draw large crowds, their continued existence would be assured.
This was good news, as the economy in Equestria was now in dire straits. The success of the entertainment industry as a whole was at an all-time low, and only with unique acts such as that of the ghost manticores was the circus able to remain financially solvent. My parents, as illusionists nonpareil, and the manticore troupe and I, with our act unique among all traveling circuses, found ourselves in a lofty but burdening position of indispensability. The circus owner warned us that the failure of either my parents’ or the manticore troupe’s acts would mean failure of the business. It appeared that my parents and I were going to remain with the circus for a very long time. At least my destiny had finally been laid out for me, or so I thought.
Several years passed and, in time, the circus was forced to travel far and wide, taking on more and more engagements to keep itself afloat. We heard from wandering traders that a new settlement had been established beyond the Haysead Swamps in the southern frontier, nestled in a fertile valley with many surrounding resources available for mining and gathering. We were told the settlement was already bustling with migrant workers who were attracted by the prospect of instant prosperity for a little hard work. What better place to set up a traveling circus to entertain weary hooves? My parents joked—since they thought it was unlikely—that perhaps after a few successful performances at the settlement they could take a short vacation.
With haste, we set out for this eclectic new community, where we were welcomed with fore-legs wide. Unexpectedly, not all was joyous among the residents, as some of the local creatures, many of whom ponykind had never been encountered before, terrorized the town in response to the new settlers encroaching on their territory. Fortunately for us, this encouraged the locals to spend their time indoors come sundown, and the circus achieved a large measure of success as a tented respite from the dangers of the outside. I think, in our time there, my fellow performers enjoyed that there was just as much local excitement beyond the tent entrance as there was within. Sadly I will never know, as the situation, both with the circus and on a personal level, was soon to disintegrate tragically.
This turn of events began one night as my parents were set to unveil their greatest act yet. Possessing just as much artistic ability as they did skill, they had long studied the musical qualities of vibrating structures and, through sufficient practice, had decided they were ready to debut their masterwork: The Symphony of the City. In effect, the entire settlement would become a vibrating musical instrument, something like a large lyre or xylophone. In retrospect, this was a poor location to attempt such an enterprise, but you cannot necessarily blame my parents for this, as the choice of venue was not theirs to make, nor could they refuse an audience as large as the one that turned out that night.
I must pause here for a moment, as the memories of that night, while clearer than much else in my mind, trouble me greatly. Young Star Blossom, you may want to stand close to your parents as I tell you what transpired next.
After the manticore troupe and I performed our renowned act, my parents took to the stage, channeling their magical energy in tandem to begin The Symphony of the City. The crowd cheered in anticipation, having been promised an experience unlike anything they had ever imagined; I can safely say that my parents delivered. Soon, the buildings started shaking, much like the earthquakes typical of your San Palimino Desert. First, a deep contrabass melody resonated throughout the settlement, followed by ever-slightly-higher counter-melodies, until soaring harmonics played a triumphant anthem. The audience was ecstatic. Hooves stomped against the circus tent floor in time with the music, and it was a glorious sight and sound to behold. This was my parents’ shining moment they had worked all their lives to bring to fruition. I stood proudly at the sidelines watching and listening with Mr. Gallant, the rest of the manticore troupe standing behind us. I even hugged Mr. Gallant giddily, to which he first responded with surprise, but then held me in a tight embrace. At that moment, I knew that the circus’ local success was assured, and for what seemed like the first time that I can remember, I was, in the purest sense of the word, happy.
I am not sure if Equestria itself conspired against us that night, but the joy was short-lived. Not a moment later, the cloth covering the roof of the tent was ripped from its metal frame by an enormous claw. Above us, a massive creature larger than any building in the settlement peered down at us. It emitted a thunderous roar that drowned out the sound of the music. My parents were knocked to the floor by the inescapable force of the air being exhaled from the beast’s maw. Aside from the reverberations from the creature’s outburst, everything suddenly became quiet.
I screamed out to my parents who, still laying on the ground, looked up in dread at a pair of immense eyes that burned in what must have been anger.
“Mother! Father!”
I had but uttered the words when the entire audience erupted in panic and attempted escape. They shortly discovered that the exit was blocked by giant, clawed and scaly feet. Let me say, I have witnessed the migration of dragons; and while the present creature reminded me of one, it was quite unlike any dragon I had ever seen—an imposing, monolithic presence.
With no chance of escape, the members of the audience shooed themselves quiet, perhaps thinking that if they stood still and did nothing the creature would grow disinterested in them and leave.
It was then that the überdragon shook its head from side to side, the tip of its nostrils clanging against the metal frame of the roof, causing the frame to fall to pieces and sending poles flying in every direction. In the audience there was a general aversion of eyes to the center of the arena as they rapidly huddled up against the sides of the tent. Meanwhile, I alone watched in horror as two central poles from the roof fell like darts, impaling and immobilizing both my parents. It was then that the creature expelled a large burst of flame, setting my parents alight, causing them to flail wildly. Despite us being on the sidelines, the flames singed my and Mr. Gallant’s fur. After a moment of panic, I rushed in to meet my parents. Tearing the cloak from my body and holding it in front of me, I leapt at my parents, doing my best to extinguish the fire which had already badly seared their flesh. The sight of their eyes in that moment is one I will never forget.
“Use… your… magic,” muttered my father, in the most excruciatingly pained voice I had ever heard.
I knew then that my training in illusory magic, and experience as caretaker of the ghost manticores, culminated in this moment. No longer was I the timid young filly who sat on bales of hay as other ponies performed selfless acts of bravery while I watched. Indeed, this was the moment I became the mare I am today.
I stood up tall on my hind hooves, casting a flash which blinded the ravenous beast. Before it even had a chance to become disoriented, I took inspiration from my parents’ Symphony of the City and resonated the metal frame in such a way that it sounded harmonics above the range of pony hearing, ones that I knew through my experience as a manticore trainer would dispel any creature who was not self-aware. I desperately hoped that this was such a creature. Sure enough, it reeled back. I continued the resonation until all could hear the stomping of its colossal feet as it retreated to the distance.
The audience breathed a collective sigh and looked at each other with disbelief. I did not have time for reflection on what happened, for my parents lay in front of me, on the brink of death.
“Mother, father, please, don't leave me,” I pleaded with my parents as I embraced them, their charred skin flaking on my coat.
“Go, child. We’re leaving for a better place now,” my mother said in her best attempt at a reassuring voice.
“Think it’s time for that vacation we talked about,” said my father, slowly turning to my mother and forcing his cheek muscles to produce a smile. He closed his eyes, and it was clear both my parents were unconscious, their last breath eminent.
With so many emotions racing through my body that day, I could not handle the finality of the situation. My parents deserved better than to be struck down during their finest hour. No, I could not let this stand; I knew what I had to do.
Standing tall, I addressed the audience with my best outside voice. “Listen here, one and all. I implore you to remain calm and resolute even in the face of the present tragedy. We cannot let ourselves give in to all that is terrible and dangerous in this world. I remind you that just moments ago you witnessed my parents’ crowning achievement, The Symphony of the City, and I ask you now to return to that place in your mind, even as my parents lay at death’s door. Please help me honor them by assisting me with a special task. Be generous with your spirit and enthusiasm, just as you did before the Symphony was interrupted, and gather around us. Let my parents know that their performance was not in vain. If you experienced any sort of joy and happiness tonight, I ask that you do this for them.”
As I spoke the audience members conferred with each other through hushed murmuring. Soon they began nodding. Everyone took their original spots in the stands. Some smiled and stomped their hooves agreeably until everyone cheered, forgetting the fire-breathing monster and remembering how, just previously, the whole settlement had vibrated harmoniously with a unified rhythm and transcendent melody.
As my parents let out their final breath, I picked up the Gem of Exalted Life and lifted it as high as I could to capture as much of the crowd’s exuberance as possible. I concentrated my magical energy on my parents then cast the Spell of Passage. A large, pink cloud rose from the audience, collapsed inward, and encircled my parents, who disintegrated into a wisp of enchanted essence which promptly flowed into the gem. I held the gem to my cheek then cried for the first time that night, both out of sadness and appreciation.
That concluded the night’s dramatic events. With some effort, I managed to thank the audience before they departed. Then, before I realized it, I was alone with my thoughts.
And alone I stayed. The circus staged its last performance that night, since all of the performers were understandably quite devastated and, without one of the circus’ premiere acts, the show could not go on, as it were. I said my goodbyes to Mr. Gallant and the rest of the manticore troupe, then set out by myself to forge my own path.
I have been traveling ever since—trekking through rain, wind, snow, every type of foul weather imaginable—never staying put, seeking new audiences across Equestria for public shows, earning only what I need to eat and maintain my carriage and equipment. Through the gratitude and adoration of wide-eyed patrons such as yourself, I have managed to keep my parents alive in this gem which now fastens the cape my mother sewed for me just before we set off for the southern frontier settlement. With the matching hat, I think this ensemble is quite stunning, do you not agree?
Dear Star, this is where I will end my story, as I imagine you must be getting very tired, and I must soon depart for my next stop. I will perform these shows as long as I am able, so you will doubtless see me in your town again sometime soon. For now, I thank you dearly for coming to watch me tonight and wish you the best wherever your life’s journey may take you.
—~**~—
Star and her family watched for awhile as Dusty Tail helped Trixie gather her belongings and push her cart down the road a bit so she could prepare for departure. With her hat on, Trixie looked quite tall next to Mr. Tail, who was no small stallion; this made Star giggle quietly to herself.
Then, with the three's eyes still fixed on Trixie, Star spoke. "Mom, Dad, I was wondering—why are we the only unicorns in this town?"
Star had asked the same question before. Mom nodded and sighed. "Well, I've told you the story several times. Your great-aunt Gamma Swirl on my side owned a small bookstore in Manehattan that we helped her manage. When she passed away, ownership of the business was split between her five heirs, of which I was one. Your Dad and I tried our best to keep the place going. But, to make long story short, you could say there were too many cooks and the broth spoiled. So your Dad and I came here just after you were born, hoping to start a new life without the hustle and bustle of the city, somewhere we knew our hard work would be worth something."
"Right, I know all that, but... that wasn't what I asked."
Dad wrapped a fore-leg around Star, placed his head next to hers, and whispered, "I think we're the only unicorns here because every town needs a little magic."
Star turned to Mom and Dad, smiling. They pulled each other close for a tight embrace. Star opened her mouth to say something else but was so appreciative of them bringing her here tonight, and of them in general, that she forgot to follow through.
“We know, sweetheart,” answered Dad, smiling widely himself. He glanced over at his wife, who appeared upbeat, almost cheery. “Look, Mom’s glowing,” he said quite sincerely.
Alone in Trotville Square, they laughed loud enough for every tumbleweed to hear.