//------------------------------// // But You Can't Make It Your Familiar // Story: You Can Lead a Horse to Water... // by SoothingCoffee //------------------------------// The Sun was having it against her, Trixie was sure, as the big ball of fire scorched. Smoldered. Throbbed. Beating down on her profusely sweating back not unlike a savageous foal would to their first pinata party, and scarfing down on the paper mache’s delectable viscera and gore; eyes twitching wild, and teeth glistening with caramel and chocolate. Panting, Trixie pulled out a bottle of water from the back. The cool water felt like a slice of heaven to her throat, and after a moment of staring at the quarter-empty bottle, Trixie decided to splash some over her body, sighing as the blessed coolness encompassed her body. It wasn’t like anypony was going to witness her in all her all-wet glory. The weather was too hot, and only crazed ponies would dare hitting the road. Ponies like herself. Trixie flared her nostrils, sweeping her wet mane to the side of her head. “Trixie could not believe this,” she murmured under her breath. The harness of her new wagon felt heavy on her shoulders, and it didn’t take long before Trixie was panting again. Casting her head to the road, Trixie can’t help but think it looked endless, stretching beyond the horizon, and beyond beyond the horizon. It was the heat, Trixie was sure. Or hoped, at least. The green endless plain of mounds, tiny hills, and colorful flowers would have been a worthy enough view if it wasn’t for the fact that they were the very same scenery she had been seeing for the past several hours. Trixie wished that Manehattan wouldn’t be too far, unless she would keel over. It would take days before somepony would discover her decomposing corpse. The showmare shook her head, banishing the morbid thoughts away. Morbid thoughts weren’t exactly entertaining when there was a chance of said thoughts coming true. In all fairness, Trixie supposed that hot days like these weren’t exactly unusual, and normally she would have taken refuge into her old wagon until the weather was cool enough. Normally, of course, her old wagon wouldn’t be destroyed in that stinking backwater mudtown—by an Ursa Ma-Minor, no less!—into unsalvageable bits alongside with her lifesavings, various collected knicks-knacks, costumes, and most of her everything!  And she was also pretty sure the stallion she bought her new wagon from had ripped her off. Sure, it was bigger on the inside, and sure, it came with its own furniture, and decorations, but it was so poorly insulated that just staying inside for a couple of seconds felt like she was in a sauna, and without all the proper enchantments she had invested into her old wagon, pulling the new wagon felt like she was dragging a slab of anvil. The less said on the convenient shifting mechanical contraption that made the old wagon double as its own wagon, the better. Trixie growled at the back of her throat, scowling at the reminder. Now she had to set up her magic shows in the old way. Boring, tiring, and no flair at all. She shot a disdainful look back at the new wagon that wouldn't be out of place in a mother disappointed that her adopted-son couldn’t compare to her real—but unfortunately deceased—son. That stinking. Flippin’. Ducking backwater of a town. Sure, perhaps she was laying it a bit too thick on the act, and boasting that she had ‘defeated an Ursa Major’ near the Everfree Forest was asking for it, but it wasn’t like she could expect that those dropped-on-the-head foals would actually attract an Ursa Ma–Minor to the freakin’ town! Trixie inhaled, and sniffed at the memories—the eardrums-crushing roar, the wild swiping claws, and stomping legs threatening to squash her, and then the sight of her home crushed into pieces. Which, just her luck, wasn’t covered by the Insurance Company! Stinking Ponyville. If there ever was a place Trixie will never visit again, then she had found it. Idly, Trixie mused if there was some form of viral infection coming from the Everfree Forest that caused the loss of common sense. It would certainly explain everything wrong with Ponyville. That, or perhaps it was a result from years of casual inbreeding. She had read up that the town was practically owned by the Apple Clan, and whilst she rarely listened to rumors without heavy dose skepticism, the Apples she had the ‘fortune’ of meeting normally had some incestual behaviour to somepony in their family tree. A pony does not normally represent an entire group, but perhaps Ponyville was an outlier. Sure, that Orange Apple one didn’t seem to be mentally challenged, but it could just be that she was the lucky one in the family. And Twilight Sparkle.  Trixie ignored the way how her heart skipped a few beats at the image of the purple Unicorn, and shifted her mind to another aspect. She was no normal unicorn, Trixie was sure of that, not with that sort of magical strength. If she had to guess, the mare probably came from Canterlot. A Graduate from the fabled Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorn, most likely. Or, part of Trixie’s treacherous mind whispered, she could be the elusive protege who saved Equestria from Eternal Night. Trixie snorted. Laughed, before subduing into a soft chuckle. “Trixie surprises herself, sometimes,” she said to herself, shaking her head. “Truly ridiculous.” She opined aloud— Or would have, had her new wagon didn’t stop suddenly, and tripped Trixie down face first to the hot, dried, and merciless dirt road. “Argh!” Trixie sputtered, spitting out dirt. She growled, snapping up to her legs, and glowered at her new wagon. “You twice-dropped, thrice-cracked, stinking wagon! Why can’t you even work like—” Trixie stopped, paused, and then blinked. Slowly, she peered under the wagon. Nothing. As in, there was no obstacle that could’ve stopped her wagon. No ditch that the wheel could get stuck into. No stone big enough that would need a big pull to get free. No sharp rock that would get stuck into the wheels. Just a smooth, if cracked, dirt road. A chilling shiver crawled up to her spine. “W-who is it?” Shakily, she unstrapped the harness with quick magic, and pressed her back against the wagon’s front. Swallowing thickly, Trixie licked her lips and edged to the side. “Trixie is a trained mage, and she is not afraid of abusing her power with extreme prejudice! So if you do not want to feel Trixie’s magical retribution, flee!” No response. Highway Ponies weren’t common. Rare, even. Guards’ patrol routes were usually thorough and wide enough that these bandits spent their times camping in the wild—but the Guards’ patrol routes are normally strict. Somewhat predictable. As long as these outlaws stayed out of those patrol areas, they were pretty much free to do anything. Perhaps, Trixie guessed, one of them sneaked behind her, and managed to somehow stop the wagon without her notice. Hesitantly, with a spell ready on her horn, Trixie craned her head to the side. Only to blink in befuddlement, the spell dying before it left her horn. Somehow, someway there was a large oval green portal had formed mid-air, and was now in the process of swallowing part of her wagon. Trixie blinked, and that was enough to snap her into action. “Hey! You can’t do that, you green stinking portal!” She shouted. “That’s mine!” She grunted. The harness’ rope went taut as she pulled it with telekinesis. “You dratted thing.” Trixie growled, strapping the harness around her barrel, and pulled. Her hooves dug potholes into the road as Trixie felt the veins on her head strained. Her neck stretched, and Trixie cursed herself for not having some convenient artifact that would sure help her by now. Thankfully, it pulled. Unfortunately, it pulled into the wrong way. “No!” Trixie yelped, before the yelp stretched into a shrieking scream as she was sent careening mid-air. The green portal was pulling her wagon in faster than before, as if being wrenched apart by something big. She scrambled for her harness— And then Trixie was gone. The innocuous green portal blinked away not a moment thereafter, leaving no sign to the world of Trixie’s presence—excepting for the ditches she had dug her hooves into. -x- Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, daughter of Karin the Heavy Wind, and youngest of the Vallière Sisters, was going to fail her Familiar Summoning Exam. All evidences were already laid against her. She recalled the first time she casted a spell, and how it ended up with Father’s favorite vase shattering into pieces. She tried again at age eleven, this time under Eleanore’s watchful gaze—and it had ended with a small part of the courtyard gouged, and cringing as Eleanore glared through her dirt-covered body. The third ended with the same result, and the fourth, and so on and so forth. She had hoped that the Academy would help her. Uncovered her element, at the very least. By how everything was plummeting down around her, Louise believed it wasn’t working as she had hoped. Which led her to the present. Louise had once heard a passing servant saying, “Third time’s the charm, Cynthia,” to another servant. Staring at her whitening knuckle around her wand, she couldn’t help but muse on the fourth and the fifth. What then? Does that mean the fourth will bring her luck down, and the fifth would simply ensure she would most definitely fail? Already, she was hearing the jeers thrown at her from the circle of students surrounding her. That dratted Zerbst was probably somewhere in there, but with how big the ruckus was, it was impossible to tell who was who. Which helped, in a way. The cacophony of jeers were so chaotic that they sounded indistinguishable to her ears. Like the buzzing noise of a beehive. She could do magic, Louise was sure of that. If not, there wouldn’t be any reaction whenever she tried to cast a spell—not even an explosion. Her status as a Noble was undeniable. But what good was a noble who couldn’t even control her magic? In the end, she was no better than a fisherman who didn’t know how to fish; a farmer who couldn’t even farm! Her hands were shaking, Louise realized. Closing her eyes, Louise pondered what Mother would do when she received the letter of her failure. Indeed, what would Mother do? Scenarios and images of her possible future shimmered into her mind. The best scenario she could immediately think up was being restricted from showing her face to public; locked in the Vallière’s Mansion like a bird within a gilded cage—at least, Big Sister Cattleya would be there to comfort her. She could also be pawned off to another noble; an overpriced—or underpriced, depending—trophy to support the Vallière’s status. If that were to happen, she hoped her betrothal with Wardes hadn’t been cancelled. The scenarios then rolled into the worst case scenario: Disowned. Banished. Exiled. Hopefully ‘from Tristain’ or something following the same vein, and not ‘from life’. “Vallière…” Louise’s head snapped towards the voice. Balding head, with only some surviving brown hair on the side. Concerned dull blue eyes, and a pair of small glasses perched on his nose. Good man, Professor Colbert was. A better teacher too, when compared to the other teachers, even if he was prone to flights of fancy. He didn’t neglect her, and quite willing to answer any question she had. Shame she couldn’t attend his class if she failed her summoning. Well, she probably could, but it involved several manners of planning that Louise wasn’t keen on thinking right now. She sniffed, clenched her wand tighter. She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t going to cry. Louise swallowed thickly. Her eyes were just a bit misty, was all. Already, she was hearing her Mother chiding her, repeating ‘Rule of Steel, Rule of Steel’ inside her head. "One more time, Professor," she requested in a tiny voice. In the din of the students laughing, it was a miracle he could even hear her. She saw him hesitate, and Louise added, "Please." The old professor licked his lips, before nodding tentatively, “Granted.” He said. “But this will be your final attempt, Louise,” Louise smiled shakily. “Thank you, Professor,” she muttered under her breath. "Make it your best explosion, Zero!” Someone shouted. Male. Ginger, and lacking in soul. She didn’t know his name; probably someone unimportant. “It’ll be your last!” Laughter exploded right after. Louise gritted her teeth, refrained from aiming her wand at the crowd, and took a deep calming breath. After a moment, she braced her wand to the air. The court quietened, watching her in rapt attention. She was either going to fail atrociously, or she was going to succeed. She wasn’t even going to ask for some mighty Gryphon or Manticore—she would be alright with a worm, at this point. Licking her lips, Louise began her chant: "I, Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, in the name of the great Five Pentagon Powers, following my fate, summon a familiar." There was a short pause as the final word left her mouth. A din of pure silence. Before her spell finally took effect. Naturally, the ground exploded. Only, it was different. Louise knew it. Felt it, even. The slightest of thumps after the resulting explosion, as if something heavy was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. Smoke of dirt and dust screened her vision. She coughed, covered her eyes. Her heart was beating like she was running on a marathon, and her breath rapidly circulating as the first of the smoke began to fade. Louise held still in anticipation. The first she noted was the relatively unharmed wagon. It was a big wagon, big enough that a person could probably live comfortably in it; it even had windows on the side. It also looked expensive. Wagons weren’t made for the portable houses, in the first place, but for simple land transportations. Still, Louise remembered seeing one of them in the passing before, and she recalled the mind-boggling price it had. It made sense, in a way; considering the many enchantments, and calculations put into the work to make sure the wagon wasn’t going to break down in the middle of nowhere. The second she noted was its harness, where a horse—or horses—would pull the wagon. The rope of the harness looked as though something was wearing it, and she followed it... Her eyes finally fell on where the rope's harness led her. It was small—though for her stature, it probably stood just about her chest—blue, and undoubtedly equine. A pony. Louise felt a pang of extreme elevation at the sight. Standing stiff on four hooves, the pony had an unnaturally natural blue fur, and its mane and tail were perfectly groomed, and in a gray-blue color, while its eyes were purple in color... And there was a horn on its forehead. Louise felt her heart skip more than a few beats. A Unicorn. Unicorns were rare. No, rarer than rare. Unicorns were outright mythical. They were creatures you would encounter in tales and storybooks. There had been many claims of people witnessing one before, but they were dismissed as either false or the effects of hallucinatory potions. The first, only, and latest sighting was by... Brimir himself. Written in several passages, describing a white and majestic equine—which was now the template of every Unicorn story ever—with a long horn that could pierce the sky itself, and luminescent mane and tail that looked as though they were riding the wind. And now there was one in front of her. Obviously, the Unicorn she was seeing was different than how it was depicted, but it could be reasoned that only one Unicorn had been sighted, and there wasn’t any mention that there was only one kind of Unicorn. After all, no horses were ever the same; a horse here would be different than the one from Germania. Either the Unicorn before her was still young… or it was the Unicorn equivalent of a pony. She gulped. Her hands trembling so much, that her wand slipped from her grip. "No way..." "Did Zero just..." Even Professor Colbert looked as stunned as she and the other students, but he was the first to recover. "Louise," he started, seemingly breathless. "Please make a contract to your... familiar." Louise blinked, licked her lips, and breathed deeply as she picked her fallen wand. It took her a third try before her trembling body could pick it up properly. The unicorn's head snapped up to her at her slow approach, and she had to stop immediately. It’s scared, Louise realized. The Unicorn’s face looked even more… emotive than what a normal horse would be. Its muzzle looked odd; as if curved. It looked softer, and somehow… feminine. "Shh," she offered a placated hand. "I'm not going to hurt you..." ()_()_()​ Trixie stared at the Pink Beast’s, eyes wide as dinner plates, and muscles taut and ready to spring out any given moment. Surrounding her was a circle of strange, unknown bipedal creatures. Different shapes. They were like a Minotaur if a Minotaur had a mane, hairless, flat-faced, and without the impressive slab of muscles. Which meant they looked nothing like a Minotaur, but it was a good effort while Trixie tried. Her eyes focused back on the approaching Pink Beast. “I’m not going to hurt you…” The showmare was pretty sure it was lying. And Trixie was pretty convinced it was mocking her. After all, nobody kidnapped—and yes, Trixie concluded that she had indeed, gotten kidnapped—someone and expected that someone to trust the kidnapper not to hurt them. Nine times out of ten, those kidnappers would hurt you, either physically or mentally. That’s a fact. So yes. Despite the seemingly placating gesture offered to her, Trixie was not tricked. She was the Mistress of Tricks, Showmareship, and Illusion, and because of that, she knew every trick in the book. Trusting kidnappers had been proven to be a bad idea. The moment you did so, they would cage you down into the paradoxical Stockholm Syndrome. Really, why would you sympathize with those who would harm you, or possibly monetize you? That’s stupid. But as much as Trixie wanted to call in thunder to incapacitate the belittling Pink Beast, but Trixie scrapped that plan when she included the dozens of these Beasts surrounding her. That would simply be suicidal. No doubt these savage beasts would run her down the moment she showed resistance, like most kidnappers would. Instead, Trixie resorted to what she was best at. A wispy blue glow, not unlike a particularly sparkling fog, formed around her horn, and the Pink Beast halted to a stop; frozen hand half-reaching out to her. Its eyes were wide and pink, and Trixie had to admit that the flat-face was surprisingly emotive, and perhaps, even the slightest bit feminine. Trixie ignored the conclusion she had speculated, and focused on into herself. She closed her eyes, and concentrated. It was harder than usual, likely because the Pink Beast was just a couple strides away from her, and that she was multitasking to cast two spells at the same time. Minor spells, true, but so was rubbing your tummy clockwise while rubbing your forehead counter-clockwise at the same time with the increasingly quick ticking of an explosive. She heard the Pink Beast took a step forward, the soft crunch of grasses and soil against a solid surface—a boot, perhaps. Trixie’s beating heart quickened, and suddenly aware of her still wet face from drinking water, the droplet of sweat rolling down from her cheek and then to her chin—and then there was a click in the back of her mind, and Trixie felt the familiar feeling of magic coursing through her body, not unlike a low-voltage lightning. When Trixie opened her eyes, her sight phased through her hoof and into the green grass beneath. Trixie smiled, both arrogant and triumphant. When she carefully stepped back, the smile stretched even further when the Pink Beast’ eyes didn’t track her, and instead stayed on the spot she was earlier—because standing there, there was a life-size copy illusion of her, horn-glow fading as it stilled. It was a shoddy work. Utterly flawed. Her Coat of Invisibility would break at the slightest of disruptions, and she could spot the flaws immediately on her illusion—her nuzzle longer than normal, the slight depression on her cheeks, her horn sharper and growing in girth. Her forelegs looked disproportionate; one thicker, and the other sleeker. Minor flaws, unnoticeable, but flaws nonetheless. Fortunately, the Pink Beast didn’t seem to notice the change. Trixie took another step back. Despite the din of silence, nobody noticed her. For all the eyes, and poor perception to see, she was invisible. Lights reflecting away from her; ignoring her existence as Trixie took another step back. Another. And then another until she was safe at the back of her new wagon, her behind pressing against the comforting wood of her new wagon. That was a close one, Trixie thought, rubbing her rapidly beating chest, sagging against her new-wagon as she controlled her breathing. It reminded her too much of Griffinstone—not a good spot for vacation, that—if Trixie had to be honest; a flock of bloodthirsty Gryphons who were quite keen on eviscerating her to strips of flesh because they couldn’t handle Trixie’s admittedly… crude performance. Only difference was that she didn’t know what these beasts would do to her—perhaps as some glorified pets, Trixie thought grimly, watching the hodgepodge of animals by the other beasts’ side. She shuddered, before huffing silently. As if they could cage the Great and Powerful Trixie! After a moment, Trixie craned her head over the wagon, and— Trixie will not lie. There was some much needed self-satisfaction as she watched the Pink One’s minotaur-like limb phased through her illusion’s head. It began to express several mix of emotions in a single moment, before settling into shock as its hand moved, flailed through Trixie’s illusion. The court became silence, but it quickly exploded with laughter as the other Beasts laughed, throwing not a few jeers—”Hah, even her familiar is not real! A true Zero, indeed!” “Hey, Louise, who did you pay to make that illusion?”—and Trixie would’ve joined in if she wasn’t in the process of escaping. Instead, Trixie simply bowed as an invisible puppeteer before she scurried back to her hiding spot. “Shut up!” Trixie’s unruly kidnapper turned red, stomping the ground below her. “I did summon the Unicorn! It reacted when it saw me!” “And where is it now, Zero?” someone retorted aloud, laughter in his voice. “Oh, oh, mayhaps it is the wagon that is your familiar!” Another round of laughter ensued. The Pink Beast—or Zero, as it apparently was—released a rather impressive growl. “Shut up!” Not impressive was Zero’s size, and ergo, it made her more adorable than intimidating. “I saw it! I summoned a real Unicorn—and-and I’ll prove it to you!” There was a saying about insanity that Trixie didn’t quite understand, but she thought it fit the situation as Zero clenched the wooden stick in her fist and clawed through the illusion. It was a mix of funny and sad, and Trixie would have sympathized if… the Pink Beast wasn’t responsible on the act of kidnapping her. Which she was. So no sympathizing for her. Trixie turned back to the wagon, and adjusted her—oh yeah, Trixie’s hat is inside. The showmare grumbled under her breath, mood plummeting, as she watched the crowd around the court. With how they were spread, it would be hard to break through without one or two of them noticing something odd. Less said about the more perceptive ones the better, but since they hadn’t noticed her, Trixie considered it a less worrying possibility. Licking her lips, Trixie scanned the area for a passage to escape. There was a castle off to the side—definitely uglier when compared to Canterlot’s. Five towers surrounded the land, forming a pentagon and perhaps some ritualistic symbol or meaning that Trixie couldn’t understand. There was an older looking beast standing off the crowd. Bald, blue eyes, and a pair of glasses hanging off its nose. It—or a he, Trixie dared to guess—wore a rather elaborate garment which covered almost the entirety of his torso, a gnarly looking staff on his hand. With her great observational skill, Trixie guessed that his expression was half-confused, and half-wary. On the latter deduction, Trixie hoped she was wrong. But with how his eyes seemed to sweep around the court, Trixie feared she was right. Trixie shook her head, swept through the crowd once more, and considered her options. Distraction. Well, that, or Trixie could just hunker down until the crowd dispersed. They looked like they were rapidly growing bored, and craning her head aside, she could understand that; there was only so much the Zero’s flailing could gather attention. Right, waiting it is. ()-()-() Louise crossed her arms and glared at the still illusion. There was only so much flailing she could do through the perpetually-fearful illusion before her arms grew sore, after all. Some part of her felt tired; sluggish, and the only thing she wanted was to flop on her bed and cry herself under the pillow to sleep until tomorrow. Then another part of her chimed in that Mother would definitely banish her from life if she found that out, and this was her future, right here. On the bright side, the circle of jerks had grown relatively bored, now. Blessed silence. She needed that right now, and she couldn’t help but smirk when she saw not a few of them beginning to depart. Most did so through levitation—overcompensating, insecure show-offs—and few actually daring to use their legs for something, once in awhile. Not the stinking Zerbst though, mainly because Tabitha summoned a fiddling dragon, and that they were friends. She wasn’t envious. Envious implies that she acknowledged them being better than her, and even if they objectively were, she wasn’t going to acknowledge that. Louise huffed silently, turning back to the blue Unicorn, and blocking the blithering Zerbst’ dirty farewell. Before promptly narrowed her eyes as her eyes caught something amiss on the Unicorn. Inconsistencies. Unnoticeable at a glance; still so after a long look, and they wouldn’t make any meaning if Louise hadn’t seen the real article. How its nuzzle seemed to become longer, and the slight depressing on each cheek, or how the horn looked sharper than how Louise first remembered. There were more—minor unimportant flaw piling into a mound of flaws. Louise gasped, understanding dawning on her eyes. Of course! It made so much sense that Louise nearly smacked her head for not realizing earlier. “It’s a test,” Louise muttered under her breath, grinning. Of course it was a test. This wasn’t just some animal that was going to be her Familiar, but a mythical Unicorn. It wasn’t just going to be that easy. The pink-haired mage who couldn’t cast a spell nodded to herself. The Unicorn had to be nearby, and it was her test to find it, and make it her Familiar. Slowly, Louise tilted her head away from the illusion, and to the— A large hand rested on her shoulder. —Louise yelped, quickly whirling around, and a random spell in the back of her throat—not that it mattered what it was—only to stop short when she noticed to whom the hand belonged to. “Miss Valliere,” Professor Colbert said, eyes commiserating. “I know that this is not how you envisioned your Summoning would be, but, for what it's worth, I believe you did summon something,” he looked up to the wagon. “And I’ll speak to the Headmaster about that, but perhaps you should rest—” “No,” Louise cut off. It was rude and disrespectful cutting a Professor like that, but Louise will apologize for that. She took a steady breath, pushing Professor Colbert’s hand away from her. “I’m not going to rest, Professor. Don’t you see? This is a test,” She stressed out, gesturing with her hands. “Some sort of way to–to see if I deserve this, and giving up right now would mean to fail immediately!” “And what if you won’t?” Colbert asked. Louise smiled glumly. Indeed, what would she do? “I’ll cross that road later, Professor.” She answered. “At the very least, could I check inside the wagon?" Professor Colbert stared at the wagon. After a moment, Colbert shrugged. “I suppose so. Technically speaking,” he remarked with small humor. “That wagon is yours to own,” Louise nodded. Well, she thought, I suppose there is still that if I failed this… test. “Thank you, Professor.” He responded with a wave of his hand. “Don’t mind it, Miss Valliere. But I should probably accompany you, just to make sure everything is safe.” The pink-head nodded as she moved towards the back of the wagon; Professor Colbert took her side. It wasn’t like she had any authority to deny Professor Colbert—at least, not one without wasting time and burning bridges between him and her. Figuratively speaking, of course. Hopefully. They stopped in front of a plain door, a tiny stairs leading up to it. It didn’t look anything special aside from being coated in with something yellow, and quite small—nearly at Louise’s height. Staring at it, Louise pondered what manner of person would try to make a Unicorn pull their wagon. Then she paused. What if it’s the Unicorn itself? Louise stored the thought for later contemplation as she stepped up the mini-ladder. Professor Colbert stood behind her, looking strangely alert as he glanced sharply to the left, before back to the wagon. Odd. The metal knob on the door made a ka-chlick noise as she turned it around, and the door swung open with the slightest creak from the hinges. Inside was as what Louise had both expected, yet at the same time, not. It was big, as expected; spacious enough for it to be turned into a bedroom, and still having some space to walk around on. It was also well furnitured; that, Louise hadn’t expected. There was a bed pressed over the corner at the size of a slightly larger child, a sizable chest sitting the bed’s front, and a small receptacle beside said bed. There is also a wardrobe pressed on the side, and a wooden desk on the other, just right under the windows. Trinkets and baubles were cluttered on the floor and desk; from broken snowglobes to amulets and pendants. There were even letters in envelopes scattered, including a rather poor stick-figure drawing of a… blue Unicorn wearing something purple. “Impressive,” Professor Colbert noted behind her, snapping Louise out of her reverie as she squeaked in surprise. “Whoever made this must’ve been a talented carpenter; though it certainly lacks ventilation,” Louise shot Professor Colbert a sour look over her shoulder, before stepping aside from the threshold to give him some entry. True to his observation, the wagon’s interior felt more than a bit warm. Carefully, as not to step on the scattered trinkets, Louise wandered onto the wardrobe. It was a long rectangular yellow wood—though standing just a couple head taller than her—and separated into two compartments; a couple drawers on the bottom, and the doors atop of it. Polished well, Louise noted as she traced a finger on the surface, before gripping both doors’ handle and opening it. Capes. Purple capes, and purple wide-brimmed hats. They were hung upon a horizontal pole; seven sets in total. Colorful yellow-blue stars spotted both articles, and Louise marvelled at their softness as she brushed her hands on them. Despite its liberal usage of dye, flashiness, and exoticness, they looked more like a set of uniforms like she was currently wearing than something you wear for an event. Louise licked her lips, grabbing a set off the pole to examine it closer. It smelled of something fruity—blueberry was Louise’s best guess—and the size leaned more on the smaller side than to someone like the stinking Zerbst. The inside’s color was the same as the outside, if embroidered with soft wool for extra warmth. A pair of ribbons, crisscrossed in midnight and sky blue, were made to tie the cape around her neck. Louise furrowed her brow. “It would fit me rather nicely, wouldn’t it?” she muttered. Before blinking. Perhaps even the Unicorn, she added, but did not say. Then she blinked, turned to the wardrobe. Just capes and hats. Gulping, she turned to the pair of drawers on the bottom, and pulled them open. Socks. Stockings. Louise blushed furiously. And something frilly. Louise shook her head fiercely. That’s not the point! They were large; larger than what the human legs could afford without being angrily butchered or grotesquely deformed to the point of unfamiliarity. Her eyes fell to the drawing of horse stick figures on the ground, and Louise gulped. “Professor,” she called. “I don’t think this wagon belonged to a person,” “Neither do I,” Professor Colbert looked up from where he crouched. Dangled loosely around his hand was an amulet of a winged Unicorn, angry red eyes above the red gem impressed on it. “I believe we should leave, Miss Valliere. Take a rest for the day—it’s getting late. I’ll ask the Headmaster about this,” Louise hesitated. “But what about the Unicorn? I couldn’t fail its test, Professor!” Her hands clenched to a fist around the purple cape and hat. “If I am to give up, then I won’t be worthy as its Master,” Professor Colbert stood up from his place, fixing Louise a sharp look that made her flinch, before softening as he sighed. “I suppose we could have another hour to search the place, Miss Valliere. While I don’t doubt of its existence, I don’t think the Unicorn still remained here,” One hour later, Professor Colbert was proven right. No matter how much Louise searched the place, there was no sign regarding the Unicorn’s whereabout, or if it’s going to show up. Or if Louise had passed or failed the test. Or if there was even a test in the first place. Louise gripped tight on the cape and hat on her hands as she held back the tears, making her way back to her dorm. “Don’t worry, Miss Valliere,” Professor Colbert comforted on the way. Failing, but he tried. “Even though you failed to gain a Familiar, you did summon something—I’ll try to convince the Headmaster so you could still study in here,” Louise offered him a strained smile. It wouldn’t even matter where she studied if–when Mother would inevitably hear the news of what a failure her daughter was. “Thank you, Professor,” “I’ll also have a few guards around the wagon to keep away from curious eyes. Good night, Miss Valliere,” Professor Colbert informed, before breaking away to a different route. Louise sighed, staring at the purple cape and hat. “One could only hope,” she muttered under her breath. ()_()_() Trixie fumed. How dare they? Kidnapping wasn’t enough, and now they resorted to stealing?! “Argh!” Trixie stomped her hooves, flaring her nostrils. Oh, that pink haired thief. That one will see why the Great and Powerful Trixie was not one to be messed with— And Trixie promptly deflated, staring at her new wagon. She couldn’t take it with her. Not when she didn’t know the lay of the land, and it being heavy. Of course. Once was a coincidence, twice was becoming a pattern. She would be hardly surprised that her next wagon would suffer some sort of unfortunate accident. She shook her head, and waited to make sure none of them were coming back. After a while, Trixie made a swift motion of entering her wagon. It was a mess. Her floor cluttered with broken baubles, not-so broken baubles, and useless baubles. Sometimes, the life of a collector was harder than advertised. A blue saddlebag with her Cutie Mark on it floated to her back, and she moved to her wardrobe. Her eyes darkened. One set was missing. No doubt it was what that Zero had taken—Trixie promptly swiped a set into her saddlebag, and another she immediately wore. The fabric almost felt like a second-skin—a trusty always agreeing companion—to her. Taking a deep breath, she opened the bottom drawers. Socks. Stockings. Her cheeks flushed into red. And something frilly.  S-she didn’t buy it on purpose! It was an accident that she had bought it, and they were on sale. Besides, t-they were comfortable to wear when it’s cold, and— Trixie swiped a pair of midnight-sky blue striped socks into her saddlebag, and ignored the others as she slammed the drawers close. “Hmph,” Trixie huffed. No doubt that the Zero had taken a look. What a stinking pervert! She shook her head, banishing the flush on her face as she moved to take whatever she could. The pouch of Bits under a plank that she kept for situations like this—not a lot, but enough for her to get by—clinking as she deposited it to her bag. Unbroken jewelries for later purposes— Her eyes fell on a stick-figure drawing of her with a brown stick-figure foal. She paused, smiling, and promptly took that one into her bag as well. The sun had completely sunk when Trixie was out. She looked up with a satisfied smile— A smile that was immediately replaced with terror. Because there were two moons.