//------------------------------//
// Chapter 10: Art Amid Adversity 
// Story: Contest of Champions 
// by thatguyvex 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 10: Art Amid Adversity


Thunder roared overhead, swift wind and rain pelting the dense forest canopy. The noise was so complete that Carrot Top could barely hear hers and Frederick’s hoofsteps as they crept as swiftly as they dared without risking being spotted by the cloaked figure they followed. Water managed to break through the thick tree cover in miniature waterfalls, Carrot Top ducking aside from one only to get splashed by another. She shook with cold shivers, glancing at Frederick. The elk had taken the lead, lips pulled back in a eager, almost coltish smile. He was clearly enjoying himself, tracking their shadowy target through the undergrowth. She wondered if he understood this might actually be dangerous? He didn’t appear armed, the blades she recalled him possessing upon their first meeting back in Ponyville nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey,” she asked, not really able to whisper with all the noise of the storm, but not worried that she’d be heard by the one they followed if she spoke up enough for Frederick to hear, “Where are your swords?”

He looked back at her, giving her a questioning look and pointing at his ears, shaking his head. She sighed and pointed at his flank, then made a chopping motion with her hoof, mimicking a sword swing. He blinked, then looked away, face briefly shadowed with embarrassment before he leaned in enough to say, “Left them in my chambers. Didn’t think I’d need them for spending time with a lovely mare.”

“Fair enough. Any idea who we’re following?” she said, this time raising her voice a bit, hopefully not too much.

Frederick rolled his shoulders in a shrug, “Someone equine? Too small to be a griffin, I think.”

“I’m pretty sure there are small griffins,” Carrot Top retorted, but from what she could make out of the cloaked form she thought perhaps Frederick was right. The proportions seemed about right for a pony, whereas griffins by and large were noticeably lager as a species. The figure was moving on all fours, so not a minotaur. A zebra or donkey, perhaps? 

The forest started to thin out, up ahead, and both Frederick and Carrot Top hunkered down behind a prickly looking bush as their target went down a sudden, steep slope where a number of trees now bent at various horizontal angles, their roots sticking up from the earth, yet overgrown with old vines and weeds. Carrot Top wondered at the odd change in terrain until she and Frederick snuck a bit further forward, keeping to the bushes or thicker trees. Then she saw that the slope wasn’t natural, but instead the edge of a huge crater that extended far to the left and right. The origin of the crater became apparent as she saw through the thinning forest roof the looming, dark mass of metal walls, spanning over a hundred paces above her head. Carrot Top gulped, continuing to look up. Those walls were just the outer ring, she realized. The grander portion of Rengoku loomed even higher, a seemingly impossible construct, standing so close, no more than a hoofball field away. 

One of the gigantic crystals that were situated around the fortress’ outer ring was nearby, to the right, like a huge spear thrust into the ground. The crater, and the destroyed tree line, were all the result of the fortress’ fall, all those centuries ago. The cloaked figure was approaching the crystal, but stopped a good twenty paces away. Carrot Top wasn’t certain why until she saw the figure raise a limb, she couldn’t make it out past the cloak, to touch something in the air. A shell of energy flowed and fluctuated for a moment, a mixture of transparent blues and opaque sun colored yellow. The energy vanished in an eyeblink, but it was clear to Carrot Top what it was. The magical barrier keeping anypony from entering Rengoku. 

The figure in the cloak backed away from the barrier, and seemed to then become intent on the ground, seeming to scuff it with a hoof. 

“Well, no bravery, no ballad,” Carrot Top heard Frederick say, even past the thick wind howls and rain, which were worse now without as much tree cover to keep it off. She was starting to get a tad soaked. Before she could say anything to him, like ask what he planned to do, Frederick just gave her a wink and then began charging down the crater slope like a stampeding cow.

“Oh for the love of-!” Carrot Top went after him, wondering if he actually had a plan other than just tackling the cloaked figure.

Apparently not. Frederick took full advantage of the raucous cacophony of the storm to get remarkably close to the cloaked figure before he launched himself into a flying tackle. The figure, however, seemed to flow aside with surprising speed, leaping out of the way of Frederick’s tackle and leaving the elk falling flat with a grunt. The figure backed away, keeping its head down so the cloak kept obscuring its face. Carrot Top thought she caught sight of a flicking, dark tail, before the figure turned and fled at a full gallop.

Breathing hard, Carrot Top lowered her head and broke into a hard gallop herself, glad now that she’d kept her potion pouch on her. She reached into it without breaking stride, using her mouth to pull out a small clay jar she’d labeled with a few ‘Z’s. The combination of herbs and chemicals inside would create a gas that’d quickly induce fatigue, and then sleep. In theory. She’d only tested it once on herself, and it’d seemed to do the trick. She wasn’t sure how well it’d work on someone who’s heart rate was up from galloping. 

She gave it a toss, just as the cloaked figure was reaching the tree line. The figure seemed to sense the incoming projectile, and only briefly turned its head. The jar was coated in a yellow glow of magic and was deflected aside. Carrot Top growled in frustration, but at least that proved one thing; this individual had magic. Probably unicorn magic. Maybe kirin magic. It was impossible to tell which. 

Just before the figure reached the trees something exceedingly odd happened, causing Carrot Top to slow in her gallop if only for the shock of seeing the trees suddenly seem to bend, branches moving to reach down towards the figure like grasping... huh, kind of like those weird appendages Lyra had gained from Trixie’s botched spell the previous year. With the storm obscuring vision along with the growing gloom of deepening evening the grasping trees had a shadowy, unnatural look about them as their gnarled branches reached to try and grab the cloaked figure. 

Whoever the figure was, they were athletic, for they juked and wove through the snagging, living branches with incredible agility. Even when one branch did wrap hard bark around the figure’s mid-section, the figure lashed out, too fast for Carrot Top to make out what the hoof looked like or what color it was, to smash the branch in half. The cloaked figure was then gone beyond the moving tree branches and vanished into the deeper forest, well before Carrot Top managed to catch up. 

Panting, staring into the gloomy forest, she couldn’t see a thing, and after a second gave up trying to spot where the cloaked figure went and turned to go check on Frederick. She found him standing, but kneeling over the ground where he’d drawn something in the dirt with his hoof, but he hastily rubbed out whatever it was before she got there. 

“He... she... whoever it was, got away,” she said, a little breathlessly. She wasn’t actually in bad shape, but the cold from the rain was getting to her. Frederick, wincing slightly at the crack of thunder above them and looking rather wet and miserable himself, stamped a hoof and gave a bitter laugh.

“And here I was hoping we’d catch some nefarious plot in the works and have quite the story to boast of. I was so close, too. The trees nearly had him! Or her. Hmm, I wonder which I’d have preferred...?” 

Carrot Top raised an eyebrow at that, “The trees were your doing? I was scared the forest was just haunted and nopony bothered to put up warning signs.”

Frederick scratched the back of his head, hoof brushing over the spot he’d been doing so to earlier, and Carrot Top could only make out the barest remains of some kind of mark, but it was far too distorted to discern. Frederick wiped out the rest of it. “Runecraft. Not my strongest skill, but being the Prince I have a few tricks most don’t.”

He shook his head, looking up at the sky, “At any rate, we’d better get somewhere dry and warm, before we’re both laid up in bed... hmm, not the worst fate, now that I think about it,” he wagged his eyebrows at her and Carrot Top rolled her eyes, chuckling.

“You’re incorrigible. Next time let’s try to work out a plan before we go charging off, okay?”

“Oh, but charging off is masculine and impulsive! Some of my best qualities!” 

“Perhaps,” Carrot Top said with a coy shift of her hooves, “Just try not to do it without running a plan by me first. We might have caught whoever that was if you’d given me a sec to prepare.”

His expression became a bit dour as he looked away, “You’re... probably right. Come, let’s return to the monastery. Aside from drying off we’d best tell somepony about what happened here. I’m sure your Princess would like to know that someone has been sniffing around this place, and they’re probably not a tourist.”

--------- 

“Should we go look for her, you think?” asked Lyra, casting worried eyes at the door, a door Carrot Top still hadn’t come through despite it being some time since the storm outside had started. 

Trixie had been flopped on one of the plush chairs of the lounge, horn glowing, soft blue light cradling a quill as she’d been jotting down the last few ideas she’d been going over with Cheerilee concerning the next day’s event. Given Carrot Top was key to the morning routine Trixie had planned she had also been wondering what was keeping the farmer so long, but then again Trixie didn’t want to think too hard about what Carrot Top might be doing with her elk prince. However Lyra’s tone brought a shiver of deeper worry to Trixie’s spine, making her put down the quill.

“It won’t be easy to find much of anything in that rain, but I’m not too keen on waiting much longer either,” Trixie said, glancing at the snoozing Ditzy on the couch, “We’ll all need our rest to give our best performance tomorrow, but that won’t much matter if one of us goes...” she waved a hoof vaguely, her voice unsure, “...missing.”

Cheerilee looked thoughtful, glancing towards the windows, “I’d lay pretty strong odds she’s with that Frederick guy, but they probably just got caught in the rain and had to find a spot to bunk down until it slacks off. We can look for her, but does anypony have an idea on where to start?”

Trixie sighed, “I knew I should have hoofed out those earrings. The moment things started going weird around here. Then we could just ask her where she is.”

“Enchanted earrings are nice,” admitted Cheerilee, “But they have a limited range, so even if she had a pair on she might not be able to use them.”

“True, but I’m distributing them first thing in the morning,” Trixie said with a firm nod to herself, “No reason not to. Now, about Carrot Top, I can understand if you’re worried about her Lyra. I am too, but wandering around looking for her at random isn’t likely to prove fruitful.”

“Well, about that,” said Lyra, floating her lyre case over to herself and slinging it onto her back as she made for the door, “I’d feel better looking around anyway, even if the chances are low of just stumbling into her-”

At that moment the door opened, slamming into Lyra and knocking her on her haunches, dazed. Carrot Top stood in the doorway, dripping wet and looking a bit muddy and haggard, but she quickly saw Lyra and put a hoof to her mouth, “Ohmygosh! I’m sorry Lyra, here, let me help you up.”

Lyra, rubbing her muzzle with one hoof while accepting help up with the other said, “No worries, was just about to go looking for you. Glad you’re not foalnapped or anything.”

A charmingly energetic masculine voice said, “Not that I wouldn’t be tempted to whisk her away in the dead of night, you ladies needn’t fear. I return your comrade to you intact and unravished.” Frederick stepped into the doorway, flashing white teeth in a decidedly coltish smile, even after Carrot Top flicked her wet tail at his face, giving him a rueful look that, Trixie noted, didn’t actually carry much honest sting to it.

“Behave.” Carrot Top said, then padded into the room, Frederick following behind. He too was equally soaked as Carrot Top, though Trixie noticed both looked like they’d been more than just out in the rain. Frederick in particular had a fair bit of mud staining his otherwise nice clothing and trim fur. 

“Where have you two been, if I may ask?” Trixie said, mentally wondering if she really wanted to hear the details. Then a closer look at Carrot Top’s expression put a halt to those kind of worries and replaced them with all new ones, “What happened?”

Carrot Top, accepting a towel that Cheerilee had retrieved from the restroom, along with one for Frederick, began to dry herself off and said, “We were out by the beach when the storm came in. Took cover in the forest, the big one that hugs that crazy huge fortress. We, uh...” Carrot Top paused, a brush of lightest crimson touching her cheeks, “We were just about to head on back when Frederick spotted someone moving through the forest.”

Carrot Top then gave a rather quick and concise summary of the encounter with the cloaked figure, leaving no details out, largely because there were so few details to give. Trixie took it all in hungrily, eager for any information that might be a clue to the mysterious threat Kenkuro had hinted at. A cloaked equine examining the barrier around Rengoku was definitely out of the ordinary. 

“Could it have been Kindle or any of Corona’s crew?” suggested Raindrops. Carrot Top shrugged.

“Definitely wasn’t Terrorwing. Guys a dang hulk and this pony, if it was a pony, was nowhere near that big. Not small, either. Kind of average build. Really hard to tell because of the cloak.”

“You said you saw a dark tail,” Trixie said, “Could it have been Zecora?”

“I doubt it. Whoever it was used telekinesis or something close to it in order to deflect one of my sleeping bombs.”

“What about that unicorn, Smoke?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think so. She’s kind of on the smallish side, and on top of that when Frederick controlled the trees to try to catch them-”

“He did what?” blurted Lyra but Carrot Top went on.

“-this cloaked figure just smashed the branches. Smoke isn’t really the martial type that could smash a thick tree branch with one hoof. Honestly I don’t think it was any of Corona’s ponies.”

“On top of that Princess Luna has already made it pretty clear that Corona isn’t likely involved,” said Trixie, rubbing her chin, mind starting to shift into high gear. “This isn’t a lot to go on but it's more than what we had. Somepony with a dark tail and martial skill. Has magic or something that simulates it. Athletic enough to easily outpace you. Hmm... well, we all still need rest for tomorrow. I suggest we all get to that. I’ll go inform Princess Luna about this first, then come back to get some sleep myself. Carrot Top, me and Cheerilee were working out our plan for the morning performance and was hoping you’d look it over?”

Carrot Top gave her a look, then trotted over to the list and notes Trixie had written down, giving it a once over. Her eyebrow shot up, green eyes looking at Trixie incredulously, “Got a lot of faith in my cooking, don’t you?”

“You did well in competition before, and this list is easy, compared to that,” said Trixie, “Trust me, if I know how people think, regardless of culture, when it comes to being up early in the morning the first thought  on any of their minds will be food. What better way to kick off a display of Equestrian art than showing everpony the fine art of the perfect breakfast?”

“But what will the rest of you be doing while I’m cooking that up?” asked Carrot Top, and Trixie just winked.

“Trust me, I have it all worked out.”

----------

Gwendolyn knew she ought to be in bed, but it wasn’t easy to work up the desire to return to her quarters giving to her by the monks at the monastery. There were entirely too many other griffins there, and she wasn’t much in the mood to deal with her fellow countrybirds at this moment. Not that their rowdy attitude bothered her, she was long used to that and might not even mind a quick brawl to settle her nerves. No, she just wasn’t enjoying being reminded of everything she wasn’t doing while she was stuck here on this island, participating in this frivolous Contest.

Her people, her real family and friends in the Band of the Red Shield, were thousands of miles away, still in Farhills with Queen Hagatha. She knew Hagatha would look after her troops, but it still left Gwendolyn feeling like she had spiders crawling along her back every minute she wasn’t there with the Band. She’d given her second in command, Gabriel, instructions to continue assisting Queen Hagatha with any local bandit troubles, and to otherwise lay low, but she couldn’t stop a distinct feeling in her gut, like spreading frost. 

Something was going to go wrong. She just knew it, and couldn’t shake the feeling. Training, or at least exhausting that pegasus, Ditzy Doo, had been an okay distraction. She had no idea why Grimwald was so interested in her, and hoped the birdbrain wasn’t going to do anything too... him. She kind of liked Ditzy, enjoying the mare’s rather plucky determination to try to befriend an admittedly creepy oddball like Grimwald. It took a bizarre sort of courage. Perhaps that boisterous deer Sigurd felt the same way? Thinking of him just caused Gwendolyn to huff out a tired laugh. 

Cervids. If they didn’t have such a flare for the poetic and dramatic they’d be unstoppable. Fortunately when whatever forces crafted the races of the world were handing out traits, it seemed all the pragmatism and common sense they kept from the cervids, they’d given to the griffins. Except for Grimwald. They’d skipped over Grimwald.

Her night wandering had taken her through the rain of the storm with little care. She’d seen worse back home, and wings made excellent natural umbrellas. The festival grounds were, unsurprisingly, all but deserted. A few late night revelers stayed up and about in defiance of the storm, or perhaps going out of their way to enjoy it. A few tents and pavilions still had lights on and the sound of drinking and general merriment, but it was a different noise that drew Gwendolyn’s attention. A steady ring of steel that at first she thought might be a clash of blades, but after a moment longer she realized was the steady, pounding clang of a smith’s hammer. 

While Gwendolyn wasn’t the most eager of participants at the Contest, she had found some enjoyment in wandering the festival grounds. The only place in the area where a smithy could be found was in the Elkhiem portion. Curiosity drove her steps through the rain, until she reached a sturdily built cabin with a wide wooden awning, with detailed carvings of flames and hammers decorating the exterior. Firelight bled out into the night from a few strong torches standing sentry against the night and storm, and more of the warm glow of fire poured from a thick stone kiln, its coals spewing embers. 

During the day a strong muscled female moose had been working the forge, doing demonstrations of forging technique and even making small iron trinkets for the youngsters in the crowd, usually prefacing any work she did by draining a tankard of ale or mead. Now, however, it was Sigurd that Gwendolyn found at the forge, his attention focused heavily upon his swift but steady hammer strikes at the anvil. Gwendolyn examined the water deer for a few moments, standing at the threshold of the awning. He was shorter than most his kind, but his frame was sturdy, muscle not entirely evident at first glance now rolling with each raise of the hammer. He was older than she thought, too, not that she got a good enough look to see the gray salting his fur here and there. His face was tough as an old pine tree, hard with concentration.

“Are you going to stand there for all the night’s hours, or step in out of the rain?” Sigurd said, not taking his eyes from his work. Gwendolyn only hesitated a moment before doing so, shaking her wings off first before giving the rest of herself a quick shake as well. A few droplets hit the fire and hissed away. She approached him slowly, looking at what he was working on. It looked like some kind of small, metal cap, about two talonspans across. The metal looked like solid steel. She noticed several metal strips nearby, cooling on a table alongside a round ring that still open at one end, its edge bent inward as if meant to be slotted with something. 

“What are you making?” she asked, though her mind’s eye was already putting some of the pieces together, taking in more of the smithy and noticing other materials laying around. Strips of leather, likely cured from the hide of a smaller frost wrym, if she was gauging by the soft white color tinged with blue. Then there was the wood planks, looking as if they were cut from fine, hard oak.

Sigurd paused only briefly in his hammering to hold up the metal cap, turning it to examine his work with a critical eye. “A shield,” he replied with simple, curt frankness. 

“For her?” Gwendolyn pressed, noticing that the overall size of the shield, if all the pieces were put together, would be about right for a pony’s use. 

Sigurd didn’t respond immediately, eyes narrowing at some perceived flaw in the metal cap as he put it back on the anvil and went back to hammering it out. After a minute of loud, thunderous clangs, he said, “It took me a long time to realize that there was more to being a warrior than wielding a blade and slaying one’s enemies. It is a lesson not many young bucks of Elkheim get the chance to learn before becoming too old to appreciate it.”

“I thought you cervids love battle. Isn’t it the only way your souls can reach Valhalla? Glorious death and all that?” Gwendolyn asked, and flinched a bit as Sigurd’s hammer struck perhaps with greater force than intended. His face held a strange light in it as he glanced back at her, a glimmer of something akin to a scabbed over wound in his eyes. 

“No warrior of Elkheim dreams of dying old, in bed, that is true. Yet that does not mean we seek to die pointlessly, or too young, before we’ve truly tasted the fruits life has to offer,” he said, looking away from her again. “I had a son. He’d be not far off your age. Younger, certainly, than Ditzy Doo. Yet she makes me think of him.”

The steady pound of the hammer went on for some time, Gwendolyn standing there awkwardly watching Sigurd work. Gradually she worked up the nerve to ask, “What happened to him?”

She wasn’t certain why she asked. Certainly it was personal, beyond what two bare bones acquaintances should probably be discussing, but she found herself wanting to... how had Ditzy put it? Meet him halfway? It seemed strange, but that little pony had a way of making an impression. Besides, she wasn’t a stranger to tales of death and woe. The entire reason she’d forged the Band of the Red Shield was because there was too much of both in the border kingdoms of the griffins, and she and her comrades had decided to do something about it. 

She hadn’t expected Sigurd to actually answer. Maybe give her the stink eye and tell her to mind her own business. Instead he gave the metal cap he was working on one last swing, then after seemingly being satisfied with his work he took up some tongs, and brought the cap to a bucket filled with glittering water, dipping it in. After the hissing and steam eased off he set the cap next to the other pieces of the soon to be shield, and turned to look at her.

“Was twelve winters ago. I was swordsworn to the jarl of Scornhold. My son, Svengar, had just earned his right to join the warrior ranks with the other youngbloods. The dragonraids two winters past had still left many without homes or fields, and the inevitable rise of banditry had been a thorn in Scornhold’s side that my jarl had tasked me to root out.”

Gwendolyn could hear the emptiness creeping into Sigurd’s voice, like watching rot creep up an old tree, drying out the branches and killing the leaves. There was a dull sheen to his eyes, looking back through a window to a grayed out time. It wasn’t an unusual story, and Gwendolyn could guess at its path easily enough. She’d heard the same kind of story a hundred times over from fathers and mothers all across the border kingdoms who had lost children to banditry and roving monster attacks. Her familiarity with the nature of the tale did nothing to quell the familiar hurt and rage that came with it. She knew some of Sigurd’s pain. While she was not a parent, she was, in a way, mother to all the young warriors of the Band. She’d buried griffins younger than she was, people she knew and fought alongside, and whose lives had been placed in her talons to lead. 

She silently watched Sigurd, giving him the space to continue or leave things at that. He must have seen something in her eyes, because he gave her the barest of nods, saying, “You can imagine what comes after, can’t you? A band of young, eager warriors, their first opportunity to test their blades against a foe. Svengar was... different. As eager as any, but not for the battle, but for the purpose. He wasn’t dreaming of glory, just of protecting hearth and kin. He even thought of the bandits as such kin, and it was his voice that called for parlay, to try talking the bandits down. He...” Sigurd sighed, a bitter exhale, “He tried to reason with me all night before the morning of battle. I was... set... in a different way of thinking. Yet my son still belted on his sword that morning and did his duty alongside his fellow warriors, despite wanting nothing more than a peaceful solution.”

He shook his head, “Ditzy Doo would have no part of me, I think, if she knew I was a father that led his own son to his death.”

“I can’t speak for her, I barely know the pony, but...” Gwendolyn waved a talon, grasping for words. Put her in a command situation, with a clear objective, and faith in the troops at her back, and she never lacked for the right words to inspire. At times it felt like her only natural environment was a battlefield or an army camp. Any other social situation and she felt like she was scrambling in the dark. How do you comfort a surly water deer who was being inexplicably open about a  deep personal wound? Gwendolyn winged it as best she could, “...but from what I saw of Dame Doo, she doesn’t have a judgmental bone in her body. I mean, she’s trying to befriend Grimwald! She either has a heart of pure steel, or the innocence of a saint. Maybe both.”

Sigurd grunted, his eyes seemingly lost in thought, “I would not see her come to harm. Tell me, how dangerous is your... friend?”

“Grim? He’s...” Gwendolyn laughed helplessly. Storm’s teeth, how did she explain Grimwald? Even knowing him since childhood she wasn’t sure she really understood him. Was he dangerous? Definitely. She more than suspected he’d done work as a professional assassin for several high ranking nobles among the Inner Kingdoms, and she wouldn’t be shocked if he was on the island as part of a job more than any desire to participating in the Contest. He was fixated on Ditzy Doo for some reason, but that might just have to do with his odd personality and have nothing to do with work. If he had been contracted to do some kind of job against the Equestrian champions... well, he was being more sloppy about it than he’d been in the past when it came to that kind of thing. If he seriously wanted any of those mare’s dead, they would have been before the first day on the island had been done. 

She looked at Sigurd frankly and shrugged, “I can’t claim Grim’s not got something up his sleeve. He’s cagey, crazier than most I’ve met, and his sense of morals is ambiguous to nonexistent. For all that, he’s always had a weird sense of honor, and he’s had my back in more fights than I care to admit.”

“You trust him, then?”

“...I didn’t say that.”

Sigurd regarded her for a moment, then turned back to his work on the shield. His motions were solid, somehow more vigorous, yet his voice held a piercing edge, “I didn’t trust my son to try the path of peace, once. I will give Ditzy Doo the benefit that my pride denied Svengard, and pray that she finds her success with your unusual friend.”

He held up the piece of the shield he was working on and the forge-light made his smile seem somehow more foreboding to Gwendolyn than perhaps it should have been. 

“And if friendship happens to fail, she will still have steel to fall back on.”

---------- 

Zecora cursed the storm. The rain and darkness were blinding her, and she had to rely on finely honed senses of direction and what she’d managed to memorize of the island’s topography to guide her as she galloped headlong through the sheets of rain. 

Kindle and the others had already retired back to the Queen’s ark before the storm hit, but Zecora had chosen to stay out a time longer, unwilling to give up on her search. It had born fruit, but in so doing had placed her in terrible danger! She’d found what had to be the threat she’d received the vision of, and in a place she had hardly expected to find it. Unfortunately she’d been found as well, and now she ran, to escape pursuit, and warn Celestia of the magnitude of the danger. 

She was on a rocky portion of the north beach, and the steep gloom of the monastery’s cliff side rose ahead of her. She knew there was a narrow pathway of carved stone that would lead all the way up to the top of that cliff, and there she could see the faint glimmer of old from her Queen’s ark, which was using the top of the monastery cliff as a safe landing area to weather the storm. 

Zecora wasn’t certain how close her pursuers were. The rain made it just as impossible to see behind her as it was to see ahead. She didn’t not doubt they were coming after her, however. They couldn’t afford for her to escape and tell of what she’d seen. Despite the storm she managed to find the foot of the carved path up the cliff and began rushing up it, slipping slightly on the wet rock, but not letting herself slow down despite the treacherous steps ahead and the growing height she reached with each switchback.

She was halfway up the cliff when a figure emerged ahead from the gloom. Zecora reached for one of her many offensive potion brews she kept in her medicine pouch, but halted the moment the figure resolved into the shape of a stout earth pony stallion. She did not know him, but did recognize him as one of the Equestrian nobles viewing the contest. He was gray coated, with a plain brown mane matted down by the rain, despite the wide brimmed hat he wore. He had a rope slung over his shoulder that looked to be part of a set of climbing gear.

The stallion blinked at her as she all but crashed into him.

“Whoa there! Be careful miss, it's dangerous out here with the rain! Heh, crazy storm came on fast. Thought I’d make it to the top of the cliff the old fashioned way, but the rain beat me to it. Fragrant’s not going to like me being soaked, but hey, can’t predict the weather, right? Hey... uh, are you alright miss?”

Thoughts ran quickly through Zecora’s mind. If she began to babble on what she’d seen to this stallion there was a very real chance he wouldn’t even understand what she was saying in time to properly carry it along. Worse, if she said anything to him her pursuers might target him as well. A clammy feeling tingled its way down the back of her neck and Zecora felt certain she was being watched. Her pursuers had caught up, but they were hanging back, out of sight, watching and listening to see what she would do. This poor stallion’s fate depended on whether or not she spoke of anything that her pursuers would deep worthy of silencing. He was still looking at her with warm, open concern.

“Miss...?”

Zecora shook her head, “Nothing is amiss other than the harshness of this storm’s kiss. I seek only to find a place warm and dry so the night may pass me by.”

“Oh, well why don’t you let me escort you to the top then? I don’t have an umbrella, but I could lend you my hat?”

“That won’t be needed. I seek only to hurry to a room that is heated,” she said, and shouldered past him, breaking back into a swift trot that quickly escalated into a gallop. The stallion called after her, but she ignored him, praying that the ones following her would realize she had told him nothing and hence would leave the poor stallion alone. After all, if he was a Equestrian noble then harming him would bring more trouble than it was worth. The same would logically apply to Zecora as well, as she couldn’t imagine her Queen responding well to her disappearance (alive or not was another question entirely), but Celestia would be more bound towards caution simply to keep from conflict with her sister and the Element Bearers. 

Of course she intended to evade capture if she could, but Zecora was no optimistic fool. Her odds were not good. She could feel the eyes of her pursuers on her as she pounded up the remainder of the steep cliff path, her hooves splashing through the rain with barely maintained balance. The top of the path led to a bowl shaped carved area, like a auditorium, complete with stone stands and a pair of shorter carved stairs leading to the top of the cliff itself. She could see more clearly the warm glow of Celestia’s arc, and the shielding bubble of magic her Queen put around the ark to keep the rain off. 

It would have only taken another minute or so to reach her goal, but a grappling hook attached to a length of dark chains snaked their way out of the storm behind her, wrapping one of her hind legs and causing Zecora to fall skidding to the ground. She tucked and rolled with the fall, immediately reaching into her medicine pouch to remove a small bundle of leaves and twine that she smashed onto the chain binding her leg. The powder within hissed and bubbled, reacting with the air and rain to generate acid that started to melt the chain, but not before two shadowy figures emerged from the storm to flank Zecora on either side. 

“You’re one impressive runner,” one shadow admitted in an amused male voice. He was the one holding the grappling hook and chain that’d caught Zecora, the chain vanishing into the arm of his black robes, “Too bad you weren’t as good at stealth.”

“Don’t waste time with words,” said the other shadow in a hard, unamused male voice, sounding like an older individual to Zecora’s trained ears, “Take her quickly. We’re exposed out here.”

“Yes, yes, you’re such a stick in the mud.”

A stick the mud, perhaps, but smarter than you, Zecora thought to herself as she took advantage of the few seconds of her foes’ banter availed her to pull out another bundle from her pouch to smash into the ground between the two shadowy, robed figures, while simultaneously shielding her eyes with her other hoof. A bright flash of light accompanied this, like a bolt of lightning, and she used the temporary blindness that should have caused to yank hard on the chain on her leg. The acid powder had done its work by then and melted enough of the steel links that they snapped at her tug, and she scrambled back into a run.

It seemed she’d underestimated her opponents, however, for at least one of them recovered far faster from the flash of light than she’d expected. One moment she was galloping away, and the next one of the black robed figures was in front of her, rearing up on his hind legs. For just a moment she recognized the kind of stance he was taking, the angle of his limbs evoking memories of home.  

She also knew from that stance that her chances of escape had just evaporated. Even so, she tried, dredging up old teachings she hadn’t made regular use of in years. She threw herself into a flip, lashing out with a hind leg kick that she knew was sloppy even as she executed the move. She really was out of practice, and had never been a dedicated student to the unarmed arts in the first place. Her foe turned her leg aside with the smooth ease of wind breaking upon a boulder. He also hit back like a boulder, an instant strike with both fore hooves that hit her straight in the barrel. The blow knocked the air right out of her and left her stunned upon the ground, struggling to remember how to breathe.

“Heh, take all the fun out of the chase, why don’t you?” said the other robed figure as he walked up behind her. The one that had struck her set back down on all fours and approached Zecora as her hoof moved towards her medicine pouch again. He stamped down on her leg, hard, and Zecora bit back a scream as she felt the bone break.

“Enough. We must move, before that noble sees us.”

“Right, right. Can’t go around offing Equestrain nobility, now, can we?” the other figure chuckled as it bent over Zecora, chains rattling. In mere moments she felt her hooves, even the broken one, being wrapped and bound with expert speed and skill. She struggled, but knew escape would be impossible. However, there was something else she could do, and in this case the storm worked in her favor. While her captor was binding her, with the sheets of rain and sound of thunder helping to obscure her actions, she used her teeth to remove one of the gold earrings she wore and tossed it away from her. Neither robed figure spotted the move or heard the ring clatter, all thanks to the tumult of the storm. 

Mere seconds later Zecora found herself bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Then she was hauled away like a sack of grain into the night.

---------

Trixie and the other mares from Ponyville woke up in the quiet hour before dawn. There was a lot of work to do, and Trixie, usually as far from a morning pony as was possible by the laws of biology, was energetic. Comparatively speaking. She wasn’t shuffling around like a member of the trotting dead, but actually felt alert and rested. Outside the window she could see the storm had passed the island, leaving the skies clear for the newly arriving day. The air still had that wet, charged scent storms tended to leave behind, and the Trixie could see the fields beyond the monastery glistened with fresh puddles. When the sun rose, those fields would be glittering like gold...

A bad omen? Trixie shook off the thought. Frederick had informed Luna the previous night of the encounter in the forest, and the Princess had pulled some of her Shadowbolts off of other areas of the island to sweep the forest more thoroughly. Perhaps they found something? Trixie and her friends had gone to sleep before hearing if the Shadowbolts had found anything, but Trixie imagined the Princess would let them know if anything turned up. In the meantime they had a Contest to win! Trixie was even more excited for this than the Grand Melee, mostly because the Contest of Art would involve less punching (in theory) and let Trixie do one of the things she did best; inspire and awe an eager audience. 

“Alright, I’ll need Ditzy and Raindrops helping Carrot Top in the kitchen,” Trixie said, “I spoke to the monks yesterday and you’re free to use all the equipment you’ll need. Meanwhile myself, Lyra, and Cheerilee will get our routine down and set up our area.”

“I’m glad somepony was paying attention to what that Abbess said the other day, because I’m still not clear on how this is all going down,” said Raindrops, stretching her wings and limbs to limber up for the day to come. 

“The event opens up at the stroke of ten,” said Lyra, already tuning her lyre with fine, minute workings of her hoof combined with a little magic, “We’re allowed to go stake out and set up any area we want on the event field, and the monks will provide anything needed. They literally got massive underground storehouses filled with all sorts of stuff that champions can use for their art performances.”

“That’s neat,” said Ditzy, yawning slightly and still not quite getting up from the couch, “So it's like the back rooms at a theater with all the props?”

“Oh it's way more than that,” said Lyra, “I had a bit of time yesterday and had one of the monks show me around. That same goat fella from the other day. Billy? Anyway there’s a freakin’ mountain of rooms and chambers beneath the monastery, a lot of it given over to storage of all sorts of cool stuff the monks have gathered over centuries. We’re talking some major collections of art, artifacts, books, you name it. Honestly if they liquidated that stuff it’d be worth a fortune. But they got mundane, everyday equipment there too, for exactly the purpose of letting champs requisition anything they need for pretty much any part of the Contest.”

“Sounds like the perfect place to hide out if you were a cloak wearing ne'er do well who wanted to be out of sight,” said Cheerilee, rubbing her chin with the sharp, narrow eyes of investigative suspicion.

Lyra shrugged, “If somepony was hiding down there, it’d be  easy enough to do, yeah. Place is a maze. I’d have been lost if not for Billy. Heck, I think he got lost a bit too. This monastery is so old a lot of the monks themselves don’t know that much about every nook and cranny of it.” 

“I doubt the Princess has neglected to consider that possibility,” said Trixie, affixing her cape around her neck with a waft of magic and plopping her hat upon her head, checking in a mirror to make sure the floppy magician’s number was perched at just the right kind of sloppy angle to look debonaire, “Just in case, we’ll run it by her. I was planning to check in with her before heading out of the monastery anyway.”

She winced suddenly as light broke over the horizon, bright and shining in a solid band of golden sunlight. In the time it took Trixie to blink away the spots and think for a few seconds, Cheerilee had already said, “Wait, is that the sun? Could have sworn it was an hour away at least.”

Trixie’s mind did a little spasm as several rapid fire implications of an early sunrise galloped across her brainpan. The most immediate of those thoughts was that Corona had taken control of the sun as part of a preemptive attack and at that very moment the Tyrant Sun might have been moving to ambush Princess Luna before she or the Elements could react. Other, perhaps more rational thoughts, also occurred to her. Like Luna being a tad off with the sunrise. It’d happened before. Not... often, but Trixie was sure there was a historical document somewhere that mentioned a time when Luna was late or early with her job of guiding the giant sky rock and sky fireball.

“I guess the Princess’ clock is a little fast,” she said, trying to sound calm as she turned towards the door to her room and started trotting for it, “Perhaps I’ll go see if everything is alright. Best put the Elements on, girls, just in case.”

“You think Corona has taken control of the sun again?” asked Ditzy with a nervous tremor, all but flying off the couch, suddenly awake and alert. 

Trixie had already gone into her room and come out with the lockbox with the Elements inside, unlocking it and flipping it open to reveal the glittering necklaces and single tiara within. “I don’t know, but since we can’t be sure, no reason not to go equipped to deal with it.”

She floated out the Elements to her friends, and the necklaces went on with a soft series of metallic clicks. Trixie finally set the gleaming Element of Magic tiara snugly upon the brow of her hat, and she led her friends out into the hallway. There they found a haggard looking stallion approaching their rooms already, the white coat and blue mane combined with his dark Royal Guard uniform making him quickly recognizable as Shining Armor. 

“Wow, that was fast,” Trixie said as the Captain of the Royal Guard arrived. However Shining Armor looked at her with blinking, confused eyes.

“What was fast? Nevermind, the Princess sent me to escort you to her to discuss the issue of the mysterious figure encountered yesterday by Dame Carrot Top,” the stallion said with a faintly exhausted air. He didn’t look like he’d slept much the previous night. With a twitch of her nose Trixie noticed a faint remnant scent of some kind of flowery perfume in the air. 

“Oh? So you’re not here because the early rising sun might mean Corona’s about to do something?” asked Cheerilee, pointing back into the mare’s room at the window clearly showing the sunrise. Shining Armor gave them a bewildered look for a second, then poked his head around the door just long enough to peer at the window. He blinked, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Right, well... in that case, follow me to the Princess quickly,” he said, doing a remarkable job of keeping a calm tone despite a sudden sweat breaking out on his brow. He lead them at a swift pace just short of a canter down the dry, dusty monastery halls. 

Princess Luna’s accommodations were situated not far from the Equestrian champions’ room, just a few hallways away. It was a large, circular chamber, with a domed ceiling and lavish furniture all of dark leather and cushions of dark or light blues. There was a tall fireplace sprawling over one end of the circular wall, while a wide expanse of window, with latches to open up onto an exterior stone balcony, dominated another portion of the room. Sunlight poured in from there, but that wasn’t the only source of light. 

Shining Armor led the mare’s into the room and barely got out half of a, “Princess, the Element Bearers are here as you requested-” before he choked his words off rather quickly. Trixie didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt two alicorns standing nose to nose with each other either.

“I told you sister, I don’t know where your pet zebra is!” Luna said, clearly trying to control herself, voice barely level, wings spread out to her sides as she stood before Corona. It still amazed and quite frankly intimidated Trixie to see the clear height difference between Luna and the older alicorn, as Corona’s towering form of flame made the normally larger than life moon monarch seem so very much like the little sister she was by comparison. Corona’s mane and tail were in full flame, the intense orange and golden fire bristling with heat that seemed to dry out all moisture in the room. The stone of the floor beneath her hooves was bright red and bubbling. 

”We hath heard thy pleas of innocence, yet find it most difficult to believe our wayward servant doth remain absent without thy interference! Whom else possesseth the means and motive to detain my loyal subject and obscured her from my sight!? Only thee, dear sister, only thee!”

Despite the crawling, ice cold fear in her gut at the sheer madness of stepping into this situation, Trixie gulped, made sure her hat and Element were on straight, and stepped into the uncomfortable oven hot room. She spoke as loud as she could manage without making her fear obvious from any stuttering, “Ahem! Excuse the interruption, but could you kindly and with all due respect, back off from my Princess?”

Corona’s head tilted ever so slightly their way as Trixie and her friends strode into the room, forming a solid line against her. Her voice was like a roaring volcano.

”You presume to hold any authority to make demands of me, mortals?”

Cheerilee coughed, and pointed at her Element necklace, “Not to pop your highly fortified bastion of delusion and ego, but I can point out six compelling reasons as to why we can presume to do exactly that. Like Trixie says, back off.”

“Unless you want to get your daily dose of prismatic medicine,” added Lyra, ears flat and mane like the raised hackles of a cat, “We’ve been pretty tolerant of you being here at all. Just give us an excuse and that kindness can be revoked.”

Corona glared literal pools of fire in their direction, but did hesitate at the sight of all six Elements gathered before her, and Luna took advantage of the brief moment of hesitation to collect and calm herself, and speak in a much more disarming and earnest tone.

“My sister, I swear to you I did not know your servant was missing until you teleported into my chambers and accused me of stealing her away. You are as aware as I am that there is a shadow hanging over this century’s Contest, and that it is entirely possible an outside force has abducted Zecora. Or perhaps the storm itself took her, if she was outside in it the previous night. Anything is possible, but I ask you do not leap to conclusions and calm yourself.”

For a very long moment that to Trixie felt stretched to eternity and then some, mostly due to the unbearable heat causing her to start sweating a small ocean, Corona remained still and crackling like a bonfire. Then, bit by bit, the flames of her mane and tail seemed to steady and flicker lower, the temperature in the room going from a sweltering oven to something more akin to just a very hot summer day. Corona turned back to Luna, face lined in a deep scowling frown that made her look ready to chew through the entire monastery with her teeth, rather than just raze the island to ash. 

Her voice, also, lowered to something resembling normal volume. 

“You claim no part in this, yet thy magic is the only thing upon this island that could contend with mine strongly enough to obscure Zecora from a scrying spell. If I cannot find her, then what am I believe, sweet little Luna? That she is dead from the storm? Doubtful. Zecora is not so incompetent. Shall I believe then another is capable of blinding my magical scrying? Who could perform such a feat besides you, Luna?”

“You do realize magic has had a thousand years to advance since your sunny vacation, right?” spoke up Lyra, more than a little sarcastic sass in her tone, “Is it that hard to buy someone out there might’ve gotten good enough to block your flaming butt?”

Carrot Top coughed slightly and elbowed Lyra, “Can we not antagonize the arch-nemesis, please? This is kinda serious if Zecora has just gone up and vanished. I mean, what if the cloaked figure from yesterday has something to do with this?”

Corona’s eyes fixated on Carrot Top rather instantly, like a pair of homing lasers. “What cloaked figure, my little pony?”

Carrot Top froze, gulping visibly. Luna took a deep breath, closing her eyes, “I had meant to inform you today, sister, that the other day Dame Carrot Top and the Prince of Elkheim encountered a strange individual in the forest surrounding Rengoku. A figure that seemed interested in the barrier enclosing the fortress.”

“And you did not inform us of this immediately, why?” inquired Corona in a tone of voice that suggested images of charred nations in Trixie’s mind. However Luna merely shrugged at her big sister.

“I wanted to give my Shadowbolts time to investigate the matter themselves before you burned down half the forest in a knee-jerk reaction. They are rather good at such work, when not being magically choked by irate alicorns.”

Corona snorted, “Better to have let me burn the forest. If there are forces of ill intent lurking within then nothing would ferret them out faster than the fire of my wrath. I see no reason not to do so right this instant.”

“No, Celestia. There will be no burning of anything,” Luna said firmly, both proverbially and physically putting her hoof down, “You’d cause a panic across the entire island, likely burn away any evidence that there might be to find in the forest, and even worse risk the lives of your servant and anypony who just happened to be there. The forest is a public area that any number of island visitors might have gone too simply for the scenery and even this cloaked figure may have just been an overzealous and curious tourist that Carrot Top and Prince Frederick surprised so badly that they ran away. So, no, no fires. Please... let us...” Luna struggled for words, lips pressed tightly, voice wavering, “Just let us cooperate, if only for a little while, sister. I will welcome your help investigating this matter, but only if you can restrain yourself.”

The two alicorns stood staring at each other for several painstakingly tense moments. Finally Corona gave a single, reluctant and shallow nod. 

“Very well. We shall play this your way for now, little sister. I will send Kindle, Smoke, and Terrorwing to... assist in the investigation. If need be I shall tear this entire island apart piece by piece until I discover what has become of Zecora.”

It might’ve been just Trixie’s imagination playing a trick on her, but it almost sounded like there was a genuine streak of concern in the Tyrant Sun’s voice. Not just outrage or ire, but true worry. Did the crazed alicorn actually care about what might have happened to her loyal zebra supporter? Trixie couldn’t be sure, and was less certain it mattered, really. Corona was still crazy and supremely dangerous. 

That aside, what could have happened to Zecora? Trixie considered the zebra mare about as crazy as her alicorn mistress, and Zecora had proven on more than one occasion to be a formidable foe. While Trixie was loath to agree with anything Corona said, it was true that it was hard to believe a mere storm could have killed Zecora. Far more likely that something else had befallen her, but what? And why? 

“We shall find your zebra, sister,” said Luna, face grave. “Send Kindle to speak with my Royal Guard Captain here, and they can coordinate the search together. Now, I must speak with my knights. Will you depart in peace?”

Corona gave the room one last scowl, then said, “As it pleases me.”

With a flash of gold light and flame Corona teleported away, leaving a still red glowing spot on the floor. The room seemed to breath a collective sigh of relief, and Shining Armor approached Luna with a shaken but steadfast look. “Are you unharmed, Princess?”

“Of course, Shining Armor,” Luna said with a reassuring smile, despite a tired look entering her eyes like a veil, “My sister’s wrath is a harrowing thing, but to her credit, she did not attack me.”

A bitter laugh, more filled with sorrow than humor, escaped Luna, “It was almost a civil discussion, melting floor notwithstanding.”

“Luna!” a frantic, yet sharply edged female voice shouted as yet another alicorn entered the room, all but barreling past Trixie and her friends. Princess Cadenza looked around at the scene, at Luna, the six gathered Element Bearers, the frazzled Shining Armor, and ultimately the smoking spot on the ground where Corona had been a few moments before, and she blinked.

“Is...um... everything okay?” Cadenza asked with trepidation heavy in her tone, “I sensed Corona’s magic flaring up, and it took me a minute to realize you were in the same location and I thought... well... what happened, exactly?”

Luna gave the other alicorn an understanding nod, “A misunderstanding, Princess. Still, I am glad you are here. I’d like you to be informed of these recent events as well, in case Cavallia can lend us assistance.”

The formal tone Luna used seemed to Trixie as if it was some kind of secret signal to Cadenza, whose worry and concern faded behind a mask of regal understanding. The rosier alicorn inclined her head in an accepting nod, her worried voice of a second ago replaced by a strong, formal one, “I understand. Please, tell me what’s transpired and I will do all I can to assist.”

It didn’t take long to get Cadenza up to date. In about five minutes time she, along with Shining Armor and the mares from Ponyville, were all comfortably seated, and Luna had cooled off the room considerably with her magic, until it was pleasantly chill. 

“I have a small contingent of my Amber Eyes with me,” said Cadenza at last, once she’d heard of all that had occurred, “While they might not have the same reputation as your Shadowbolts, but I’m sure you’ll find them more than capable.”

“You have my thanks,” Luna said, bowing her head with a warm smile at the other Princess, “I’ll have Shining Armor act as liaison between your forces and mine, and together I’m certain we can get to the bottom of this mysterious threat.”

“Hey, um, not to sound like a big doomsayer, but is this the kind of situation where we might want to consider suspending the Contest?” asked Ditzy, chewing her lower lip, “If things are actually getting dangerous, with folk disappearing, maybe we should postpone the whole thing?”

Luna shook her head, starlight mane glittering, “While the safety of every individual on this island is my highest concern, I do not believe we have reached the point where calling off the entire Contest of Champions is feasible. As of now we know nothing other than a zebra is missing and a strange cloaked figure was seen. I’m afraid far more dire circumstances would need to arise to convince the rulers of the world’s nations to pack it in, so to speak. Rest assured, Dame Ditzy, we shall do everything we can to discover the truth. Which brings me to why I had Shining Armor ask all of you here this morning.”

Luna’s horn flowed with soft but luminous blue light and Trixie saw haze of misty magic shimmer into being in the middle of the room. From that shimmer a near perfect image of the Isle of the Fallen appeared, as if Luna had miniaturized the entire island in painstaking detail and bottled it in front of them. Trixie had to admit the illusion was magnificently crafted, though she felt confident she could match it if she wanted to... assuming she’d been familiar enough with the island to match the details. 

“Yesterday, Dame Carrot Top, you ran into a mysterious cloaked figure here,” Luna said and a green dot lit up on the illusion next to the south western end of the rendition of the massive fortress of Rengoku. “My Shadowbolts investigated the area after you brought that information to my attention, and managed to find tracks. Unfortunately the trail was a short one, ending at the edge of the forest.”

Trixie frowned, “Was the trail washed away by the storm or was magic involved? A teleport wouldn’t leave any trace. Not a physical one, at any rate.”

“They also could have flown off, if it was a pegasus,” added Raindrops, brow furrowed. 

“Searching the area for residual magic didn’t reveal any lingering auras that would indicate a teleport was used, nor do my experts on tracking think the rain washed the tracks,” said Luna, “Normally that would indicate the possibility Dame Raindrops brings up, that our mysterious figure was a flier.”

Carrot Top frowned, “But I’m almost one hundred percent sure this cloaked whosit wasn’t a griffin. Unless there’s something that’ll let a non magic user pull off something like telekinesis?”

“At this point we can’t really rule anything out,” said Cheerilee, rubbing her chin, “You said they were investigating the barrier around Rengoku, right? That suggests knowledge of magic. Or at least an interest in alicorn magic. I’d say ‘unicorn’, but it could be anypony with a little magic know how and access to an artifact that lets them manipulate that kind of power.”

Raindrops shot a look Cheerilee’s way, “So what you’re saying is that it could literally be anybody, because someone could just be using magical doodads to simulate having magic? That doesn’t exactly narrow down our suspects list.”

Princess Cadenza leaned forward, eyes peering intently at the map, “Let us not forget that there are many races gathered on this island right now, many of them with unique magical abilities of their own. Some from Naquah can summon djinn with all manner of unusual capabilities, including carrying the summoner in flight. The limits of cervid runecraft are still largely unknown to those outside their secretive circles of runecasters. Then there's the kirin and their spirit chanting, and who knows what the limits of that power is? Our strange cloaked friend from yesterday could have escaped the forest in any number of ways, depending on who they were.”

Trixie let out a sigh, realizing that Cavallia’s Princess was right. “There’s just not enough information to narrow down our options. It's even possible it was a unicorn who just happens to be skilled at masking their magical aura, hiding any trace of a teleport. At this point all we’re doing is wandering about sunblind, guessing without any concrete ideas.”

Luna nodded, eyes narrowed gravely, “I’m afraid I reached that conclusion as well, but I wished to see you all reach it as well so we were all on the same page. However it is not quite as bad as you say, as at the very least we can likely say the figure had access to some kind of magical ability.”

“What about Zecora?” asked Ditzy with a hesitant fidget, “Are we going to look for her, too?”

“As much as we can,” said Luna, “For now, the six of you must focus on the Contest, but I free you to conduct any investigation you wish to do on your own. Stay in touch with each other as well. Trixie, you did bring your impressively enchanted earrings?”

Trixie nodded swiftly, “Was going to hoof them out first thing after this meeting. I don’t want any of us without them until this Contest is over, and we figure out who is skulking around here and why.”

“A wise notion,” Luna said, smiling, “Now, I look forward to seeing what you have in store for us in today’s event. Go, and do Equestria proud, my little ponies.”

---------- 

The Contest grounds had changed in the day between events. The same cervid runecraft that had created the large stone stands to view the Grand Melee and the various obstacles for that event had now been used to reshape the field so that a vast stage of stone dominated the area. It was large enough that it took up nearly two thirds of the field and was surrounded by easily a dozen smaller versions of the stone stands from the Grand Melee, evenly spaced around the edge of the stage. Numerous raised portions of the stage were set up at various locations to serve as platforms for performance or displays of any given champion’s or group of champion’s work. At a champion's request portions of the stage could be altered to accommodate their needs, and in this final hour before the Contest of Art began the champions of all the nations were hard at work making final preparations. 

For Trixie those preparations involved triple checking her illusions to ensure the spells she was maintaining were not only flawless, but could hold for the next few hours. Her magical stamina was never the best, though she felt that over the past year of flexing her arcane skills that she was getting a bit stronger. Still, even with illusion spells being her bread and butter maintaining multiple realistic looking illusions at once was taxing. Lucky her she didn’t need to make them seem tactile. That made things easier.

“Yup, that looks like a diner alright,” said Cheerilee, looking somewhat bemused, standing next to Trixie. The area Trixie and her friends were set up in had been shaped to Trixie’s specifications to consist of a circular central platform with a series of small stone tables raised up around it. Trixie’s illusioncraft turned that simplistic set up into something like a slice out of Ponyville’s town square itself. The central platform became a homey looking open front restaurant, with colorful awning, sloped thatch roof, and even a few illusionary clouds to complete the picturesque set up. 

Of course the warm, enticing smells of fresh cooking food from within was no illusion, that was Carrot Top working her own, culinary magic. Ditzy and Raindrops were in there as well, assisting, while Lyra tuned up her lyre from a comfortable spot on the side of the restaurant, like a miniature veranda. 

“So, the plan is to woo our audience with food?” asked Cheerilee.

“This is merely phase one of my marvelously constructed plan!” declared Trixie, “First of all, food is perhaps one of the first art forms any culture develops, and Carrot Top is our best cook. But just having her serve food would be boring, so instead we’re treating this like a real restaurant, complete with musical accompaniment! A double attack upon our audience’s senses! They shall have their tastebuds ravaged by deliciousity while being entranced by calming lyre music, perfecting the picture of an ideal Ponyville morning! We are showing the soul of Equestria itself in this simple, humble setup! I amazed myself at the simple efficiency if the idea.”

“I’ll admit it’s not a bad idea at all, it's just from you I figured you want something with more flash,” Cheerilee said, to which Trixie just grinned at her friend with a smug sidelong look.

“Oh, the flash comes later tonight. This is to get our audience to relax and enjoy their morning with some honest Equestrian hospitality, as true and wholesome a part of our culture as any I could think up. After we’ve got them lulled into calm security, then we can wow them with the explosive follow up in the evening.”

“An interesting choice of opening performance,” said the smooth, cultured tone of Dao Ming as the kirin trotted up behind the pair with the gliding, easy motions of confidence. Trixie noticed that the kirin was wearing a distinctly different outfit than her usual regal, form fitting dresses. A tightly bound, snow white upper robe with voluminous sleeves was complemented by an even more broad set of starkly crimson ceremonial pants. Her gold mane was done up in a surprisingly simple looking bun, with two sets of braided locks falling around her neck, all held together with red sticks wound into the bun. Dao Ming bowed her head to the two mares, her voice a hesitant attempt at sounding casual as she cast a look between Trixie and Cheerilee, “I look forward to seeing how well you perform today...” her eyes glanced to the side, as if searching for something.

“Well, the weather’s cleared up, so little chance of rain... or lighting, right?” said Cheerilee with a raised eyebrow, just the smallest hint of sass in her voice. Dao Ming’s face flushed red and Trixie gave Cheerilee a quick, light elbow.

“Of course not. We’re all friendly competitors, and I’m certain Lady Dao Ming is as eager to see us perform as we are to see her,” Trixie said, putting on her best diplomatic face, which wasn’t hard as she wasn’t interested in a repeat of the Grand Melee. She and Dao Ming managed some level of understanding with one another, and she wanted to keep it that way. “Speaking of which, might I ask why you’re wearing that particular outfit?”

Dao Ming seemed happy to change the subject, holding herself up with a proud and primp air as she ran a hoof over her clothing, “The official robes of a spirit priestess. While I do not fulfill the actual duties of a priestess on a regular basis, I spent a year of my youth training in one of the temples as part of my path to becoming a spirit chanter. I know all of the proper ceremonies, and decided that for this morning’s performance I would grace the Contest with an accurate rendition of a proper morning prayer, complete with a formal chant and dance to call for the spirits to bless the day with good fortune for all.”

“Generous of you,” said Cheerilee.

“I am... feeling such, today, and wanted to wish you all luck,” said Dao Ming with a reserved tone, eyes still shifting about, “I may not be able to speak with you again, when my family arrives to observe the event. My mother wouldn’t...”

Trixie held up a hoof, “We understand. Good luck to you as well.” A gregarious, bright smile flashed across her face, “Of course that doesn't mean we’re not going to sweep the event today, so you’d best not hold back.”

Dao Ming held her head even higher, turning her nose up with a snort that was somewhat softened by the fact that her smile managed to mirror Trixie’s, “Hold back? As if I would dishonor you in such a manner, Dame Lulamoon. Be prepared to fight for your victory this day, if indeed you gain the good fortune to win through while I am one of your competitors.”

Trixie laughed eagerly, “Fortune won’t have anything to do with it.”

Dao Ming just bowed her head slightly, still smiling as she turned and strode off towards her own stage, which resembled a pair of stone pillars holding up a curved archway, with a wide stone brazier underneath it. Cheerilee watched her go, then turned a curious glance towards Trixie. “You two are looking awfully chummy.”

Trixie shrugged, “Had a chance to chat with the mare yesterday and it’s cleared the air some. Still let her know I would destroy her world if she pulled a stunt like the Grand Melee again, but I think I do believe her when she says she’s sorry for what happened. For now I merely intend to enjoy beating her thoroughly in the Contest, but not out of some petty revenge but because I just honestly want to win.”

“Can I still enjoy beating her out of petty revenge?” asked Cheerilee with a smarmy grin. 

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

Cheerilee nodded in satisfaction and turned back to the illusionary restaurant, “Well, we’d best check on the food. We’ve got less than an hour to go before showtime.”

The interior of the place was almost as thoroughly realistic as the exterior, though minus some of the more homey details a real open front restaurant might have. Since there wasn’t any intended seating inside the interior was mostly taken up by a huge space for the “kitchen”. Multiple grills, real grills, and wood fire stoves were set up, courtesy of the monks vast stores of random equipment made available to the champions. Carrot Top had acquired all the ingredients she’d need the previous night and had spent most the morning after the meeting with Luna doing the cooking with the assistance of Ditzy and Raindrops. 

The smells had been enticing outside, but now standing right in front of the action, Trixie was regretting having such a light breakfast. 

Carrot Top looked up from a pot on the stove that she’d been stirring, managing a tired smile for Trixie and Cheerilee. She had her orange mane bound by a thick mesh net, along with her tail, and wore a bright green cooking apron decorated with a few patchwork carrots. 

“We looking good outside?” she asked.

“My illusions are without compare, so of course we are,” said Trixie, “Ponies and non-ponies alike will think they’re walking past a little slice of Equestria itself, and with Lyra providing mood music and the way this place smells so enticing, we’re sure to impress.”

“Sure hope so. I’ve got the first round of dishes near ready to go, and they should be nice and fresh for when folk start coming by,” Carrot Top said, going down the line of stoves, each of which had some tablespace in between them that was one part illusion, but mostly real equipment brought in from the monastery. “We’ve got carrot casseroles, pancakes and waffles with ten different flavors, stripes of haybacon and egg, hash browns flavored with carrot sauce, and of course cinnamon carrot cake!”

Ditzy was checking one of the ovens, “Speaking of which, the cake is rising nicely!”

Raindrops was giving uneasy glances at the two stoves she was monitoring, “I don’t think anything has caught on fire yet, so all good on my end.”

“Good, good,” Trixie rubbed her hooves together, licking her lips, partially in hunger, but mostly in anticipation, “It’s all coming together. Keep up the good work! We’ve got a long day ahead of us and we’d best get it started with a bang!” 

As the final hour counted down each portion of the huge stone stage became filled with the bustling activity of the various nations’ champions setting up for the Contest of Art. Trixie observed it all with a keen eye, though it quickly became difficult to see it all. She spotted the cervids off on the west end of the platform, where it looked as if Wodan had piled up over a dozen large barrels in neat pyramid stack beside him, with Sigurd taking up a position nearby with only a couple of barrels. Their stage had been raised to look like a craggy mountain slope, and Andrea, her brilliant red mane being billowed out by the breeze, stood at the top of it, holding her fiddle at the ready while Sigurd and Wodan waited below. Trixie couldn’t fathom what they intended for their opening performance.

Other set ups looked far more understandable. The Cavallian knight Silverwreath had a simple yet very elegant gallery set up with a wide range of clay sculptures which he’d apparently worked hard to make the previous night, and judging by their detail and vibrant colors the stallion had a great deal of practice at the craft. One of the champions for Naqah had covered his stage with brightly colored cloth and had a series of raised torches set up around him, from which he summoned forth small billowing djinn of smoke that looked like odd, puffball shaped beings with thick arms of smoke that could still somehow hold a series of instruments, all of which bore the distinctive curves of Naqah aesthetic design. The griffins with their myriad kingdoms being represented has a riot of various set ups running along the east end of the stage, bearing everything from those displaying paintings to others warming up instruments. More than a few had gathered together to apparently have a personal dance competition among themselves, using tall stone poles to do some kind of ‘sky dance’ that apparently was distinctive to each griffin kingdom. From the chatter Trixie heard from that end the griffins were more concerned with who would one up who rather than winning the event itself. 

Trixie spotted Grimwald among the griffins, her eyes narrowing at him. He was sitting casually on the edge of his stage, with three objects set up that were all cloaked in black cloth that to Trixie looked like they had to be large paintings of some kind. Even from a distance the griffin seemed to notice that he was being watched and slowly turned his head to stare at her across the way. Unblinking he watched her watch him, and Trixie licked her lips, unwilling to break the stare, but really wishing she had an excuse to. Then Grimwald waved in a friendly little wave and looked away first, though Trixie got the impression he was laughing, by the shake of his shoulders.

Creepy little jerk she thought and turned away, observing the rest of the area and the other champions. She couldn’t see what the zebra were up to, though she had seen that odd fellow with the giant scorpion hauling several straw dummies across the stage towards the south end. As she turned around to see if she could catch a glimpse of the minotaurs, she nearly jumped out of her fur as Kenkuro was there, standing just a few feet away.

“Good morning to you Dame Trixie,” said the tengu with a polite bow of his head, “I was hoping you might want to share a spot of tea with me before the ceremonies commence?” He withdrew a small, fold out table from his kimono, the kind one might keep a portable tea set in. Trixie raised an eyebrow at him, getting her breathing under control.

“Sorry, but no, it's a bad idea to take too much liquid before a performance.”

“Ah, of course. Well, then just a moment of your time to speak,” he said.

“Yes, what is it?” she asked, eyeing him curiously. Kenkuro was dressed much as he normally was, so she imagined he wasn’t aiding Dao Ming with her priestess ceremony. She wondered what he’d be doing for an art piece? 

“I heard a most interesting rumor concern the disappearance of that most unusual zebra accompanying Amaterasu,” Kenkuro said, expression kept conversational and friendly, perhaps in case anyone was watching them, “And I thought to myself, why it's entirely possible those fine mares from Equestria might be soon investigating that matter.”

Trixie kept her own face schooled to neutrality, “We may. How did you hear of this? We only just learned a short time ago when Corona got her tail in a twist over it.”

“The Empress has her own eyes and ears about, the same as your Princess, so it was not hard to learn,” Kenkuro said, “As it happens I enjoy a good storm, and spent some time out last night, presumably during the time this Zecora mare had vanished. While I didn’t see her, I did see one of your nobles near the cliff face, and he seemed oddly distraught. I thought I’d mention this to you in case you wanted to use it as a stepping point in investigating.”

“An Equestrian noble? Out in the storm?” Trixie frowned, she didn’t know many nobles who would have wanted to risk getting caught in that weather, “Can you describe them?”

“It was rather dark and rainy, but it was a stallion. Brown coat, wearing a hat. I couldn't quite pierce the veil of the storm to see much else, and didn’t even think much of it until I learned of the zebra's disappearance,” Kenkuro said, using one wing to rub the chin of his beak, “It may mean nothing, or it may be a useful clue. I know the Empress cares little for this news of a vanishing and hasn’t had her own people do any investigating, but I and my circle of friends will be looking, and I imagined you and your fair knights would be as well.”

“Then I thank you for the heads up,” said Trixie, “As soon as the morning performance is done I was going to get an investigation going, and given the description... I think I might know who this noble was. Thanks, Kenkuro.” She managed an awkward Shouma-style bow, which Kenkuro returned with a small, friendly laugh.

“Think nothing of it. It seems you and Dao Ming are... less hostile towards each other than a few days ago.”

“We’re finding new ground,” said Trixie, managing a thin smile, “Though I fully intend to surpass her in the Contest.”

“Best of luck then. Dao Ming has long needed a challenge, and I hope you shall provide it for her, Dame Trixie. Good luck,” Kenkuro said, and with a final nod spread his wings and flew off. Trixie watched him go, and then turned to get ready for the event. The Contest of Art would be starting in barely half an hour. 

---------- 

Dinky all but bounced off the walls with excitement that morning. This trip had been so much fun so far and today she’d get to see her mother do cool artsy stuff alongside a whole bunch of other folk from all over the world! Dinky thought of herself as pretty smart for her age and was looking forward to seeing what kind of neat things the champions would do. She was, of course, with Mr. Dewdrop and Mrs. Shutter Bug, along with Snails. They’d had a quick breakfast before heading out towards the Contest grounds with a whole crowd of folk who formed a wide line marching in both from Heroes’ Rest and the monastery. Friendly monks from the monastery kept the crowd ordered and moving smoothly, directing folk into a neat series of lines arranged along the western side of what looked to Dinky like a incredibly huge raised stone platform that covered most of the field from the other day, surrounded by a number of tall, sloped seating stands that looked like slightly smaller versions than the huge ones from the other day. 

At the head of the ordered lines of waiting spectators Dinky could see the colorful and glittering sight of a number of Equestrian nobles and what she assumed were royalty or nobility from the other nations. She jumped a few times, trying to get a better view, before Shutter Bug saw what Dinky was doing and dipped down to offer a shoulder up for the filly. 

“Do you want up too, Snails?” Shutter Bug asked her son, but Snails was less interested in the crowd and was more poking his nose around the grass as he absentmindedly said, “Nah, I’m good.”

Now raised up on the older pony’s shoulders Dinky could see that there was a small balcony formed into the back of the stone stands facing the crowd, and that on that balcony stood the kindly looking form of the elderly mare that was the Abbess of the monastery. Serene, Dinky thought the mare’s name was. The Abbess must have had some kind of magic to amplify her voice, for when she spoke it reached the whole crowd as clearly as if the old mare was standing right next to them. 

“Welcome, one and all, to our next esteemed event! The Contest of Art! Here you shall see champions from all of your fine nation's displaying numerous forms of art from all of your many distinctive and diverse cultures, for what is a champion if not an exemplar of all that is good in your people’s lands and what is a land without its art? Art comes in many forms, from the beauty of music and poem, to the simple pleasure of well cooked food, to the intricate subtleties of dance. Indeed more than martial prowess one could say that art is a true sign of the power of a nation, for the influence of its art can last even beyond the nation’s lifespan. All today your champions will perform, this morning, this afternoon, and into the evening, so that you might all see the varied artistic pleasures our world's many cultures have to offer. Now as you enter the Contest grounds the monks shall pass to you tokens, three for each of you. Each champion’s stage has a place for these tokens, to place as you will for the forms of art that most move your soul. Take your time, enjoy what you will, and may the Contest continue to bind us together as a diverse world, yet with one harmonious heart!”

There was a raucous and cheerful response from the crowd, with plenty of stamping hooves, bird-like trills, and happy shouts. Abbess Serene held up her hooves with a grandmotherly smile, her voice carrying over the din, “Your enthusiasm warms my aged heart. Now, without further ado, may the Contest of Art commence!”

Several monks raised long, wide copper horns and blew powerful and reverberating notes that could probably be heard from every part of the island, no doubt signaling the champions that the crowds were coming. The monks continued to keep order as the crowd surged forward, providing tokens to all passing as they made their way to wide stone stairs leading up to the massive, wide stage. Dinky held her own tokens in her magical aura, deciding it’d make good practice on her fine control. The tokens looked a lot like the kind the champions had worn during the Grand Melee, and Dinky wondered if there was any magic inside them? She wasn’t skilled enough to tell, and her attention got taken away from the small tokens besides holding them as the Drops family made their way up the stairs and onto the stage, where Dinky’s eyes widened and her ears perked up with sensory overload.

This was like the festival grounds condensed and intensified. Dinky could see a vast array of different mini-stages raised up from the vastly larger stage, and each one had something going on. The very first and closest one she could see was a tall stone platform upon which the three gigantic minotaur champions stood, the biggest of them all standing in between his fellows. The two smaller (‘smaller’ being a rather relative term in this case) held objects in their hands that looked like croquet mallets that’d been welded from solid pieces of metal rather than carved from wood, and they used these mallets to pound on huge metal drums situated around the edge of the stage; creating a constant pounding beat that had an infectious rhythm to it. Meanwhile the biggest minotaur... well he didn’t dance exactly. More like he posed and flexed with style, sweat glistening off his body. At first Dinky didn’t think it seemed all that impressive, but strangely the longer she watched, the more hypnotic those rippling muscles seemed, and there was a strange kind of primal coolness about the constant flow of flexing poses the minotaur assumed, especially complemented by the rhythmic metallic drumming. 

“Ahem, well, let’s just move right along then, “ Mr. Dewdrop said with a hint of irritation as he noticed his wife starring perhaps a bit longer than was needed at the display.

“Oh, but this is fascinating to watch, honey, and we have all day so there’s no rush, “ Shutter Bug said, eyes still glued to the flexing minotaur. Dinky, curious, took note that more than a few individuals, both male and female, from several species were also seemingly drawn in by the minotaur’s display. 

Still, she didn’t want to miss anything else going on, and she tapped Shutter Bug’s head, “Its really cool, but we can always come back. There’s so much to see!”

“I suppose so,” Shutter Bug said, turning away with an embarrassed look, “I do wonder how they get their muscles to do that.”

Dewdrop muttered something under his breath that Dinky couldn’t quite hear, but sounded like it mentioned needing to ‘work out more’ and they trotted further along the Contest grounds. Curiously Dinky noticed the noise of the minotaur’s drumming got quiet almost immediately once they were a few paces away, not gone per se, just quieter, as if there was a sound dampening spell in place. She wondered why that would be, but looking at the many other stages containing what looked to be musical performances it made sense to her. Of course they couldn’t have performances trying to drown out each other, so each stage probably had a sound dampening spell around it so folks could enjoy each performance without being overwhelmed by any noise from nearby stages. 

As they trotted along Dinky was amazed by the diversity of what she saw. The minotaurs were cool, but so were the zebra, who looked like they were putting on a play! With the help of the giant scorpion! Each of the three zebras, and the scorpion include, wore complex masks of wood carved and painted to look like different animals. More amazingly, the scorpion also doubled as a source of music, because it kept a steady beat to the action by tapping its claws on an instrument that looked like a specially carved log that produced notes that made Dinky think of a xylophone. Though Dinky couldn’t see their faces she could guess which zebra was who by context. The one riding on the scorpion’s back had to be the guy who tamed it, otherwise he couldn’t direct it; especially not while playing some kind of wind instrument that looked to be made from bamboo and was intricately painted with a dizzying array of colors. The older zebra was easy to spot due to the gray in his mane, leaving the third to be the weird Tendaji fellow that Miss Raindrops didn’t seem to like. 

Watching the play for a time Dinky picked up on the story quickly. It was apparently an old tale about how the cleverest of animals, Jackal, used his wits to trick every other animal of the jungles to give him gifts of food while doing nothing himself. When the Tortoise confronted the Jackal over his trickery the Jackal claimed he had every right to the food, for his cleverness had earned him the right to grow fat. However when a drought came and all the animals but the Jackal died for lack of food, the Jackal had no more people to trick food from and in the end starved himself. 

“In the end,” said the old zebra wearing the Tortoise mask, “The Jackal learned you cannot eat cleverness.”  

Dinky wasn’t sure she understood, but it was a neat story, and it looked like the zebras had many such stories to tell because the went right into another play without missing a beat. 

Moving from there Dewdrop and Shutter Bug began to wander cross-wise across the area, and Dinky saw a rather dizzying array of sights. A Naqah camel lead a beautiful dance of colorful fire and water djinn, the summoned spirits weaving in and out of each other’s path so that the water djinn caught both beams of sunlight in scintillating patterns, and the fire djinn created steam from the water djinn’s moisture to form wisping patterns of mist that refracted that sunlight even more to create glittering patterns. 

A handsome Cavallian knight not only had a wide display of incredibly life-like sculptures on display, he was providing a life demonstration of his sculpting skills, using only his hooves to mold clay with elegant sweeps of his hoof. To Dinky it looked as if he was breathing life into the plain gray material with each touch of his hoof, forming a detailed rendition of Cavaillia’s Princess Cadenza reared up with her wings spread magnificently. 

Then there was the kirin. Dinky didn’t know if ‘princess’ was the right title for her, but she knew the kirin mare was part of their royal family. She’d certainly looked the part every time Dinky had seen her, but something seemed different this time, and not merely because Dao Ming had changed in a far simpler outfit of white and red robes. No, Dinky couldn’t quite place her hoof on it, but Dao Ming was behaving different, less... snout up her bum. There was just a more relaxed, almost humble quality to her stance, as opposed to the feeling Dinky had before like the kirin was looking down on others from some high mountaintop. Maybe that was just because of the ceremony she was performing. As Dinky watched from atop Shutter Bug’s head, Dao Ming was carefully lighting sticks of incense while performing a chant in the language of Shouma that had a resonate, almost otherworldly quality to it. 

Each stick of incense was set upon a thin stand of red painted wood, four apiece, set at each cardinal direction around a large stone brazier. As Dao Ming finished lighting the incense her chants took on a different tempo, faster and flowing into a stronger beat. The kirin began to dance in time with her chanting, moving with sweeping motions that turned her into a whirlwind of motion and color. Smoke swirled up from the lit sticks of incense, with glowing ember sparks following the trails like fish swimming upriver. As Dinky watched in fascination the coiling smoke trails from each incense stick reached the brazier and spun around one another. The embers within each sought each other  out and became larger sparks, then full blown flames until the brazier roared to life with a dancing fire that moved like a living thing.

In fact Dinky thought it was alive. Then she heard music begin to play, a soul tugging set of intense strings that were as simple as they were beautiful. She noticed now, sitting upon a small wood perch, his talons resting upon them like any bird might rest on a branch, was the tengu. Dinky faintly recalled his name was Kenkuro. He was using the large feathers of his wing arms to play the strings of an unusual instrument that looked to Dinky sort of like a horizontal harp, with strings bent across a length of slightly concave, darkly varnished wood. The way his feathers moved were not unlike the way a pegasus could use their wings like extra limbs, and the music that poured from the instrument matched Dao Ming’s chanting and dance. That, and the dance of the being taking shape in the flames of the brazier. 

It had the vaguest shape of a butterfly, but with too many sets of wings, all blazing with scintillating patterns of color that left Dinky staring. It spun and twisted in the fire, a fluttering dance to compliment Dao Ming’s gliding motions. Then the dance changed, taking on a slower, more serious tone, the music shifting to match as Dao Ming began to incorporate careful bows to the butterfly of flickering flame. From the folds of her robes Dao Ming withdrew something with her magic, offering it to the flames of the brazier, and as if the fire was alive it reached out with coiling tendrils of licking flames to grasp them from Dao Ming’s magic. To Dinky the objects looked like bundles of rice.

While Dinky was fascinated by the flaming spirit, Snails seemed even more entranced by the sight of the flame formed butterfly. 

“It's so pretty,” said the colt, then tilted his head, “I wonder why the kirin lady is feeding it rice? Their proboscis can only drink fluids.”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” said Shutter Bug, shaking her head. 

“It is an offering to the spirits of fire that warm us in the morning and guard us through the day. The spirits do not eat as we do, but consuming the offering of rice in its fire empowers and appeases the spirit of warmth and flame,” said a voice next to them, and Dinky looked over to see another kirin standing next to them. She bore a similar tall and regal bearing to Dao Ming, but had fur of deep, dark crimson, her mane and tail black as soot and combed straight as silk save for an intricate bun at the top of her head held together by several shining gold hairpins. She wore a form fitting dress of ocean blue, with patterns of white made to look like the surf of waves upon it, matching the white flecks of scales on her neck and legs. Her twin kirin horns curled up from her head like bowed branches of an ash tree. 

The kirin turned to them with a smile and small bow of her head, “My apologies for interrupting your enjoyment of my sister’s performance. I am Tomoko, of the Imperial Family. I am honored to meet family of Equestria’s honored champions. Correct my error if I am mistaken, but you are Mrs. Shutter Bug, Mr. Dewdrop, young master Snails and lady Dinky?” 

Dinky, friendly as ever, offered Tomoko a dazzling smile and said, “Hiya! You’re not wrong, I’m totally Dinky. Hey does your mane hurt all bunched up like that? It looks pretty, but kind of uncomfortable.”

“Dinky, manners,” said Shutter Bug, quickly bobbing her head in a somewhat awkward bow to the kirin, “It's, um, an honor to meet you... your Highness?”

“Ah, ‘my Lady’ is the most applicable of Equestrian titles. Lordship in Shouma is not quite divided into the same strata your Equestrian nobility is,” said Tomoko with a polite smile, “Do not worry, I take no offense to even merely being called Tomoko, if you wish. And yes, lady Dinky, I confess the bun is a bit uncomfortable, but I appreciate your compliment.”

She bowed to them in a graceful dip, and came up with a smooth motion, her expression turning more serious,”I do not mean to disrupt your viewing of the art performances, but my time is short and I merely wished to extend my most sincere apology for the incident two days ago. Officially we are not allowed to do this, but I know Dao Ming feels great regret for the danger she inadvertently placed your kin in. I’ve taken upon myself to apologize on her behalf to those she cannot speak to.”

“I see,” said Shutter Bug, and Dinky could feel the older mare’s tension under her small hooves. She exchanged a look with Dewdrop, who just gave his wife a small nod, as if that communicated something between them. Dinky didn’t get it, but apparently some old couples were capable of some weird mental communication via just looks. Kind of creepy, actually. Shutter Bug turned back to Tomoko, saying, “My husband and I accept the apology. Our Raindrops is a tough young mare, but I confess we were both... worried, when we saw what happened. I hope we won’t see a repeat of such a misunderstanding during a friendly competition, yes?”

Tomoko nodded with solemn understanding, “Of course, and you are most gracious, Mrs. Shutter Bug, Mr. Dewdrop. While I look forward to seeing the skills of art on display today, I express even greater anticipation for the Contest of Strength. I have heard rumor that your daughter is the most physically potent among Equestria’s champions. I eagerly await viewing her in action.”

Shutter Bug smiled, through it was a bit strained with worry, “I’m just proud to see her come so far. It doesn’t even matter to me if she wins, I never imagined my daughter being a part of anything like this. I’m just going to cheer my head off for her in the stands, come what may.”

“The pride of a mother can inspire the most potent of strengths in her children,” Tomoko said, then in a quieter aside, as if to herself, “Even if just the dream of a mother’s pride.” 

“Pardon?’ Shutter Bug said, now tilting her head in confusion, but Tomoko merely smiled and waved a dismissive hoof.

“Nothing. Merely musing to myself.”

“Hoi, Tomoko!” shouted a louder, boisterous voice of the noise of the crowd, and another kirin, this one male, came trotting up. His coloring was darker than Tomoko’s, black as charcoal with a wild mane of hair that was a bit shorter than Tomoko’s but still rather long. He had a ready grin on his face, but it looked a bit strained as he came up, bowing slightly to her and the ponies present, which stretched the tight white and blue lined vest he wore over his chest. “Yo, sorry to interrupt, but the Empress is calling for you. She wishes your company while viewing the art displays. She was a tad... put out that you vanished on your own there.”

“Ah, my apologies Lo Shang, I shall attend the Empress at once. I merely had a desire to see the beginning of Dao Ming’s performance,” said Tomoko, nodding to Shutter Bug and Dewdrop, “It also afforded me the opportunity to properly meet esteemed kin of Equestria’s champions.”

“Oh?” Lo Shang turned to them, grin widening as he extended a hoof in greeting, “Then let me try my Equestrian greeting phrases. Ahem... S’up?”

Tomoko blinked, “S’up?”

“Hey, I’m told it's a formal greeting among ponies. Um, it is, isn’t it?”

Dinky found herself laughing and reaching out to shake the black kirin’s hoof, “Sure it is. Nice to meet you. I’m Dinky!” She blinked, looking at his hoof more closely, noticing some odd bruises on his leg, “Are you okay, did you hurt yourself?”

“Huh? Oh, just got bruised up sparring with Dao Ming,” said Lo Shang with a dry chuckle, nodding at the kirin in question as she continued her ritual with the fire spirit, “She wanted to warm up after getting out of bed, and roped me into being her partner. My body feels the aches from that decision.”

“Is she super strong?” Dinky asked, curious.

“Only outdone by Kenkuro and the Empress,” replied Lo Shang with a proud smile, “I mean, I can take her maybe one out of four matches. Tomoko does better than me.”

“You honor me, brother, but I am no warrior. Now, we should return swiftly to the Empress’ side before we incur her ire,” said Tomoko, turning briefly to give the ponies a parting bow, “A pleasure to meet all of you. Hmm,” she looked thoughtful for a moment, then with a glittering aura of white levitation magic she removed one of the gold mane pins holding her bun together and floated it over to Dinky, where in a few seconds Dinky felt the kirin’s magic gently twirl her own straw blond mane up into a neat bun, securing it with the pin. “A gift, for the compliment, young lady Dinky. May it bring you good fortune.”

“Gold usually isn’t seen in a light of good luck,” said Shutter Bug, but Tomoko waved the words off with a kind smile.

“Perhaps not in Equestria, but in Shouma the color remains one deeply connected to the spirits of fortune and the royal bloodline. Please accept it in the spirit with which it is given.”

Dinky beamed, managing an awkward bow while still balancing on Shutter Bug’s back, “I will. Thanks, Lady Tomoko.”

Tomoko’s smile was small, but warm as she matched Dinky’s bow, “May your kin meet with the greatest of fortune in the competition. Although...” she chuckled and levitated one of her tokens into one of the waiting stone receptacles built into the side of each platform for casting one’s votes, “I must show support for the home team, as it were.”

Dinky giggled, looking at Dao Ming, whose ritual had moved on to dancing with the butterfly spirit, the two twirling around each other to the increasing tempo of Kenkuro’s music. “She’s pretty good. But I bet my momma and her friends will be even better. Although...”

She used her own levitation to send one of her own tokens into one of the bowls for Shouma’s champions, “I must show support for other teams as well.”

Tomoko let out a rich laugh, filled with mirth, “Ah, but you are a fine young courtier in the making. If only I could take you back home with me, I could train you to have the other court ladies eating out of your hoof.” 

Lo Shang made a polite coughing noise, gesturing with his chin back into the crowd, where Dinky would see the other Shouma nobles, including the tall and regal form of the Empress, passing by. Tomoko sighed, nodding, “Yes, of course. Farewell for now, then.”

After the kirin left Shutter Bug looked to Snails and Dinky, patting her son on the head and saying, “Well, shall we go see what Raindrops and her friends have gotten up to?”

Snails sniffed the air, “Hmm, smells like pancakes.”

Dinky wasn’t sure what he meant, but now that he mentioned it she did smell some rather enticing scents from not far away. Just what were Trixie and the others up to?

----------

Lyra was finding herself thoroughly enjoying the way the morning was going. How well she and the girls were doing was barely a factor, because she’d gotten lost in the gentle, relaxing ebb and flow of her music. The platform she played on was equipped with a plenty comfortable cushion and she had a perfect view of the set of tables situated outside the faux restaurant Trixie’s magic continued create the illusion of. Lyra was impressed. The illusion had a realistic patch of grass around the building and added lots of little details, like the birds that flew around to perch on the restaurant's awning. Lyra could also see several other champions and their performances, though the spells on each platform kept her from hearing more than some of what was going on over there.

As she let her hooves pluck across her lyre’s strings, letting her heart dictate the whim of her playing of a multitude of easy going tunes, she found her eyes drawn towards the platform where Andrea and the other cervids were conducting their own performance. While the restaurant had attracted quite a bit of attention, especially given a number of folk had skipped breakfast to get to the event, there were nearly as many people gathering to watch the spectacle Wodan, Sigurd, and Andrea were putting on.

The reason their platform had been shaped like a mountaintop was readily apparent from the way all three treated it like a stage. Andrea herself was impressing Lyra as she stood on hind legs so she could use her forelimbs to work the ornate fiddle she used while making great, bouncing steps from one part of the stage to the next. Though the sound was subdued, the music coming from Andrea was as upbeat and energetic as the red elk’s bounding steps and swishing hips. It was a sharp contrast to Lyra’s more laid back, relaxing notes, but Lyra found she liked what she heard. Moreover Andrea’s playing was a good mesh for Wodan and Sigurd’s... competitive chanting? Lyra was only catching bits and pieces of it, but it sounded to her like the moose and water deer were belting out lines with the kind of baritone gusto that’d put many an opera singer to shame. The content of the songs were unfamiliar to her, but after a bit of listening she realized that they were ballads. Not just any ballads, but the most sacred kind to a cervid warrior; their personal ballads. From her studies she knew that every cervid, but most commonly their warriors, took great stock in forming the ballad of their lives. The songs only got longer with age, and totted the warrior’s greatest deeds, or espoused lessons learned from hard failures. 

In this case the ballad singing had the edge of competition to it as both Wodan and Sigurd took turns with their verses, each trying to one up the other. They threw in great sweeping gestures or mimicked actions to emphasize the tales they told, and the energy of their movements and their coltish grins made both cervids look many years younger. It was hard not to want to go over and hear more, and Lyra found herself laughing, if only because she felt a simple kind of joy that could only come from having honest fun. She wanted to win this event, but for now she was simply going to enjoy herself. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Ditzy said cheerfully, coming back from serving a group of eager and curious camels their food. Raindrops was also acting as an impromptu waitress while Carrot Top kept the kitchen going with Trixie’s help. Lyra had no idea how Trixie handled the multitasking of maintaining her spells and helping with the cooking, but she was impressed. Meanwhile Cheerilee offered samples to those who couldn’t sit at the tables, and did a wonderful job attracting more passing spectators while managing the flow of the traffic. All in all the girls were working like a well strung together symphony.

“It's been a good day so far,” she said, and then whispered so only Ditzy could hear, “The bit about looming doom notwithstanding.”

Ditzy smiled nervously, “Everything will be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

At the heel of Ditzy’s words there was a murmur and parting in the crowd as a number of folk made a pathway for a group that slowly approached, and Lyra found her eyes drawn to the sight. She found herself tensing slightly, almost missing a few notes in her playing. Ditzy turned to see what Lyra was looking at and blinked. 

“Oh, um, is this good or bad?” the pegasus asked with a gulp. Lyra just tried to keep playing her lyre steadily.

“I have no idea.”

Striding through the crowd in the same manner a ship breaks through the waves was nearly the entire Shouma Imperial family, sans Dao Ming. An entire cadre of attendants accompanied the four royal kirin, the Empress herself at the head of the procession like a jade and gold albatross at the head of her ship. The voluminous, multi-layered dress she wore contained gleaming shades of green ranging from bright emerald to dark, nearly black forest green. Gold scrollwork etched along the hem in patterns of writhing flame, and ended in a long tail of spun gold that followed behind her like a short river. The Empress’ black mane was one up in twin tails of smooth dark strands held up by a headdress of a complex gold sunburst. Compared to her the Empress’ three attending children were humble in their outfits, Tomoko, Xhua, and Lo Shang following behind their mother at a respectful distance. 

The Empress paused just in front of the restaurant without looking at it directly, her gaze slowly sweeping the event area with judging eyes. Lyra noted she barely looked more than a second or two at the platform where Dao Ming was performing her ceremonial dance and rituals, and if the Empress felt any approval at her daughter’s hard work it didn’t show in any expression on her face. When the Empress finally rested her eyes on the mares from Ponyville and their offering for the opening of the event, it was with the air of one just taking note of a stray cat at their hooves. 

And the Empress apparently wasn’t fond of cats.

Yet even with her chin upturned in a expression of long sufferance, the Empress somehow made it look like a supreme gesture of good grace to approach the restaurant. As she did so a number of folk already seated seemed to decide to quickly polish off their food and vacate the area, leaving a vacancy or two. Cheerilee was the first to greet the newcomers, stepping up to the Empress with a smile of politeness so forced that Lyra was surprised it didn’t somehow magically manifest a pair of hooves to buck the Empress upside the head. 

“Why good morning your Highness, would you and your family, and small army of attendants, like to sample the fine art of the perfect Equestrian breakfast?” Cheerilee somehow managed to make her voice carry all the courteous air of a highborn noble addressing an equal, while having the hidden sharpness of a wasp stinger. 

The Empress responded with a smile like the unsheathing of a blade, her voice solid gold arrogance, “I believe we shall deign to see what quaint pleasures your rustic establishment might offer us.” 

Like the darkly clad stage hooves Lyra had seen at many a Equestrian play, moving around silently to arrange the stage props as needed by the actors, the attendants of the Empress and her family flowed around them in swift, smooth motions to clear the seats already around one of the vacant tables. As if by one of Trixie’s magician tricks the attendants, many of them being either the scaled and leather winged forms of longmas or the single horned lesser kirin tribe, quickly produced a series of ornate fold out wooden chairs. Each chair was tooled in combinations of gold, silver, jade, and obsidian, and had plush silk cushions. Across the table one attendant drew out a long emerald tablecloth, patterned with a gold threaded pattern in the shape of a long, serpentine creature that Lyra recognized as an eastern cousin to the dragons she was familiar with. 

The Empress and her children took their seats, Tomoko offering a deep bow to Cheerilee as they passed, and Lo Shang giving her a open smile and wink. Xhua seemed more subdued, taking her cues from the Empress and maintaining a standoffish air. Lyra kept her playing going, doing her best to maintain the casual atmosphere. Ditzy gave her a worried look but quickly went into the restaurant, and just moments later Trixie emerged, smiling politely but one eye twitching slightly.

“Your Highness, what an honor for you and your family to stop at our humble-”

The Empress cut Trixie off with a simple raised off, her voice taking on an arctic edge, “The proper form of address is ‘Your Imperial Majesty’. Start over with the proper address, and I shall hear what you have to say.”

Tomoko, her face going very still and her voice taking on a carefully neutral tone said, “My Empress, please, we must extend understanding and courtesy to those we seek to understand-”

“Must?” Somehow the Empress made the word sound like a dirty thing, eyes flashing hard at Tomoko. 

“We... should, as a matter of honor, extend leeway to others and be gracious, as is befitting of you, your Imperial Majesty, and your Imperial family,” Tomoko said with each word stiff as a block of wood. Xhua and Lo Shang exchanged covert glances, both looking less than comfortable with the situation. 

Lyra wondered if Trixie was about to explode, given the tell tale signs of the short ear flicks and twitching eyelid, but Trixie showed a great deal of maturity and self control as she bowed her head, “It is quite alright, Lady Tomoko. I should address your Empress properly.” She turned to the Empress with a knife edged smile, “Your Imperial Highness, you honor us with your presence, and of your gracious children. Would you further honor us by trying our humble offering for the opening of the Contest of Art? The finest of food of Equestrian style, in a setting evoking the very image of our land’s most valued traits of peace and taking joy in the pleasures of the simple things in life.”

The Empress was silent for a few slow seconds before she gave the barest of nods, “We shall. Bring us your finest works, and I shall determine their worth.”

The scene had gathered a bit of a crowd, onlookers watching almost as if the scene itself was some kind of performance. Lyra didn’t know if this would turn out to her and the girls’ benefit or not, but at least nothing had blown up in their faces yet. As Trixie went back to inform Carrot Top of their new guests and to whip up a few platters to suit them, Lyra concentrated on her playing, while keeping an eye on the crowd. As she did so she also caught sight of the cervid champions once again, noticing that Andrea, while not at all ceasing in her playing, had taken an interest in what was going on with the Empress and her entourage. And it might have been Lyra’s imagination, but it almost sounded like Andrea’s playing had gotten somehow... not louder, per se, but more resonant. Lyra’s ears twitched, unable to shake the feeling that something had changed about Andrea’s playing, but she couldn’t put her hoof on what. 

Her mind had that itch that said it had an important bit of information that was trying to worm its way to the surface, but she just couldn’t get it to the front of her mind. Perhaps if the Empress wasn’t being such a distraction she’d be able to think clearer. Lyra shook her head, taking a deep breath and clearing her head as she focused on the flow of her notes. Whatever her inner brain pony was trying to tell her, it’d just have to wait until later.

Raindrops had come out with Ditzy, the pair focusing on serving the ponies who were still sitting at the other tables, while Cheerilee went back to enticing the crowd with samples. The Imperial family remained quietly seated, only Lo Shang seeming to gradually grow at ease as he made the occasional friendly comment on the decor, or even offering up a compliment to Lyra’s atmospheric playing. However the Empress seemed intent to remain silently watching.

Carrot Top must have doubled timed her work, though whether that was in eagerness to please or eagerness to get the Empress out of there all the faster Lyra could only guess, and soon Trixie returned with several large plates floating in her azure magical aura, each piled with an assortment of the delectables they’d been serving that morning. The smell alone caused Lyra’s stomach to growl a bit, despite her having eaten plenty for breakfast already.

As Trixie set the food down and started to back away, the Empress extended a hoof to the side of the table.

“Join us.”

It was said not as an invitation, but a command. In a mere second one nearby attendant produced another unfolding, ornate wooden chair from seemingly nowhere and had it in front of Trixie. With a carefully schooled expression Trixie only hesitated a moment before sitting at the table. The Empress silently observed the food, then paid it absolutely no mind as she turned her full attention to Trixie, eyes like jade spears.

“I have heard that you’ve spoken with my daughter. I find this most interesting, given the rivalry that exists between you.”

Lyra watched as Trixie managed to produce an innocent smile, “In the spirit of the Contest we are working towards understanding each other. Dao Ming is an... exceptional young mare. You must be proud of her, despite her lapse in judgement during the Grand Melee.”

Lyra felt a growing unease and a sense of danger in the way the Empress’ eyes seemed to freeze over, if not in the literal sense so close to it that Lyra wouldn’t have been shocked to see actual frost appearing on the tall kirin’s features. “Where it not for my daughter’s exceptional self control it is unlikely you would be standing here to speak with me at all. Be grateful that you were bested by not only a superior warrior, but by a superior mind.”

“You speak highly of Dao Ming, yet I don’t see you paying her performance any mind. Is that the act of a proud mother?” asked Trixie, an undeniable burst of snark sneaking past her affected polite tone. 

If a smile could be any sharper, Trixie would have been beheaded by the Empress’. “I do not need to watch Dao Ming to know that she is performing flawlessly. She will be victorious in the Contest, and leave those that would hold her back, such as certain second-class illusionists, far far behind.”

“Or perhaps she will find that the only thing holding her back is valuing the approval of those who do not appreciate her.” Trixie replied, not unlike an arrow fired from a taut bow. 

The Empress rose from her seat. Lyra gulped. The Empress was tall, even for a kirin, and yet somehow she made even the small movement of standing seem like she’d just tripled even that impressive height. There was a method to looming, and while Lyra had seen better and more immediately intimidating from Corona, she had to give the Empress of Shouma credit; she did a fine job of coming close to the Tyrant Sun’s sense of absolute dread.  

As if sensing their mother’s near loss of control her children all reacted with almost clockwork swiftness.

“Perhaps we should resume our viewing of the other performances, my Empress?” said Tomoko, “The morning heat seems to be affecting the moods of all of us and the walk shall do well to calm minds.”

“I would love to see what the cervids are doing over there,” commented Xhua, unable to keep a nervous note out of her voice.

Lo Shang, licking his lips at the food yet untouched, said, “Yeah, walking is good. Can we get a to-go box, at least?”

The Empress didn’t look at her children, eyes boring instead into Trixie. Lyra almost didn’t catch the Empress’ next words, as they were spoken with a hard, hissing whisper. “You will not poison my daughter against me, Trixie Lulamoon. Know that in Shouma we make an artform of teaching our enemies the meaning of regret. Step wrong, and you will learn much of my own artistry.”

With that the Empress turned and swept away from the table with long, dismissive strides. The children of the Empress rose as well, Tomoko barely hiding a miserable look as she turned apologetic eyes towards Trixie, bowing her head once before following in the Empress’ wake. Xhua did the same after a pensive moment, leaving Lo Shang to eye the food regretfully, and then with a conspiratorial wink at Trixie, he snatched up one of the waffles in a yellow hued magic aura and trotted on after his siblings.

After they were gone Lyra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and resumed playing, having not even noticed she’d stopped when the Empress had made that threat. 

Trixie sat on her hunches, taking her hat off for a moment and wiping her brow, “Well, that was fun.”

“Really?” said Lyra, “Because I thought it was kind of extremely unsettling, myself.”

“You okay?” Raindrops asked, flying over and giving Trixie a comforting wing pat, eyeing the other mare with concern.

“Yes. Of course. Just a verbal sparring match with one of the most powerful equines in the world. Just another Tuesday in the life of Trixie.”

With that Trixie plopped her hat back upon her head and took on her energetic and enthusiastic mien once more, “Well what are you all staring at? We still have a lot to do, and hungry folk to awe and amaze with the best breakfast experience producible by equine hooves!”

And just like that Trixie seemed back to normal, the crowd flowed back in, and Lyra was able to get back to playing, slowly relaxing once more and hoping the day could only get better from here. 

---------- 

Zecora awoke feeling the throbbing ache of pain in her broken leg, yet less than she expected. She blinked her eyes open, finding herself in a cage of stone. She’d been divested of her pouch of herbs and alchemic potions, and even her jewelry had been removed. She wasn’t bound any longer, and looking at her injured limb she saw it had been tended to, placed in a splint. Even her more minor bruises and scrapes had been looked after. While she couldn’t put any weight on the broken leg, she found she could stand with her other three.

The cage she was in was seemingly formed from the stone floor, with thick pillars of shaped rock rising around her in a small dome, with spaces only a few inches across in between each pillar. Light trickled in from several distant lanterns hanging from the walls of the larger room she was caged in, illuminating her surroundings well enough for her to see. There was a bowl of fresh water, a small plate of vegetables, and a chamber pot off to the side, not far from the simple floor mattress she’d been laid out on. Basic accommodations, but far more than she’d expected after she’d been captured. 

Now, where was she?

Peering out between the stone pillars of her cage she saw that it was tucked into one corner of a much larger space. An underground cavern? The walls were too smooth and straight. This place had been carved out, and now that she was looking Zecora could see stone columns holding up the roof, which was too high for her to see clearly. The style of the columns, however, gave her an idea of where she was.

This was inside the monastery. Or at the very least it was someplace built by the same architect who’d designed the monetary, because the columns were of the same style as the ones at the monastery's front entrance. This didn’t surprise Zecora, as she’d seen what she suspected was the secret entrance to this area already, although she’d been spotted, chased, and captured before making it this far in. 

But what was the purpose of this chamber, and what were the cloaked conspirators trying to accomplish?

She thought she saw one large piece to that puzzle when she examined the ground of the chamber and saw a vast magical circle carved into the smooth stone. Her knowledge of magic ritual was limited, but having devoted her service to an alicorn for some time now she’d picked up on a few things. Enough to tell her that the massive and intricate circle of interlacing symbols filling up nearly half the chamber was using script of an alicorn nature. 

“It is good to see that you’re awake,” said a voice from nearby, nearly causing Zecora to jump. She hadn’t sensed anyone approach. Now she was looking at a cloaked figure, hood up, keeping the speaker wreathed in shadow. 

Zecora controlled her expression, keeping her face blank, “Do you not feel safe within this place? What then is the point of hiding your face?” 

“Call it a symbol, if that helps ease your mind. We hide our identities, not merely for fear of discovery, but because what we do should go beyond the ego of identity. The cause is what matters, not the individual.” The speaker paused, letting out a tired laugh, “Of course I doubt the others share that sentiment. Each of us does this for our own reasons. Some for the joy of causing chaos. Some for dreams of a more glorious world. Some for love of another. Regardless, as long as the work is finished, I am content with their motivations. Your leg troubles you little?”

Zecora chose not to answer the question, instead casting her attention towards the magical circle, “What are you attempting to do, using a ritual that contains magic of an alicorn hue?”

“You will have to wait for your answers along with the rest of the world, my friend,” said the cloaked figure, “I merely came to see that your injury hadn’t gotten worse and that you were well. I have no desire to harm others, and what happened to you was unfortunate, but necessary. Rest assured you will be freed once our work is complete.”

The cloaked figure turned to depart, sighing as it trotted away, pausing just long enough to say, “By the way, please do not try to escape. The bars of your cage have been infused with magic of a rather explosive nature. I have no guards to keep watch on you, so such extreme measures were necessary. You’ve been given enough food and water to survive the next few days, and I’ve ensured that regardless of the outcome of my endeavors, there will be someone who will know where you are and can rescue you. So remain still, and watch history unfold.”