//------------------------------//
// Chapter 42 
// Story: The Mask Makes the Pony 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

	Sighing, Piper sat in the gym, wishing that her legs were better. Oh, they were healing, but they weren’t healing anywhere as fast as Flicker, who had spooky-fast healing. His stitches had been removed yesterday by Doctor Sterling, who was baffled enough to take photographs. The past few days had all been ones of intense study, after spending two nights at Doctor Sterling’s house, where Lentil Pakora had spoiled her and Hennessy. 


Her eyes, which were not in her Equestrian history book, looked over at Hennessy, who was going back and forth, trying to leap over a four foot section of wall. It was much harder than it looked, he kept smacking into it, banging his legs into it, and sometimes landing stomach first on the wall. In time, she supposed, that would be her, and no mercy would be spared because she was a filly. This is the price one paid to become a hero; blood, bruises, and bumps. It was a small price to pay, because here, she could learn magic. Real magic. Turn a monster inside out and make him explode magic. But this sort of magic had to be earned. And earn it she would. 


All in due time.


In an open corner of the gymnasium, Flicker and a pale whitish-grey pony named Moonlit Gambit were sparring, whacking more at each other’s swords than each other. Each collision made a terrific ‘THWACK!” sound and the two heavy wooden swords had to be quite sturdy to hold up to the abuse. Watching them, she realised just how big Flicker was, as Moonlit was one of the older students, about a decade and a half in age, almost an adult, and Flicker was just about as big as Moonlit. 


This lead Piper to conclude that Flicker was going to be a big one. Hennessy on the other hoof, while of good size, was on the delicate, slender side, and with each passing day, seeing him around other ponies, she could not help but notice how much more… fillyish he was in his proportions. She was beginning to understand just how self conscious he was, and why. 


Sighing again, Piper shook her head as she thought of yesterday, and the incident. In an oral recitation about plague history, one of the older students had whispered the word “queer” behind Hennessy, setting off a chain of events that had ended with Mister Balister bashing the older colt in the mouth with volume E of Encyclopaedia Equestria over and over until the colt was a bloody heap on the floor, and the entire time Mister Balister shouted about respect, spitting out each word while driving his point home with the book, explaining the violence that might happen because of a single, careless spoken word. 


Then had come the speech about courtesy and its importance around a group of such well-armed and capable types, ponies that excelled at extreme violence. Courtesy was the glue that held everything together, good manners and proper etiquette kept well trained soldiers from killing one another, or, as Flicker liked to say, “Civilisation maketh equines.” 


Her studies forgotten, she watched as Flicker and Moonlit sparred. She was curious as to what Flicker had been up to with Wicked; he hadn’t said anything, not one single word, other than mentioning that he had gone off to Baltimare on guild business. Flicker and Moonlit were circling one another, moving with slow, cautious steps, and their swords clashed in heart-palpitating flurries of beautiful, purposeful violence. 


Flicker didn’t have a lot of magic, hence the wand, but he was more than capable with his telekinesis, which Piper admired. She supposed that more capable wizards might give a haughty sniff and look down on ponies like Flicker, but she knew better. The smartest, most capable wizards cultivated friendship with ponies like Flicker, and then kept them close. This was how wizards lived to a ripe old age, gaining wisdom to go along with their power. At least, this is what her book, So You Have Magical Ambitions had suggested. 


She knew from conversation with Hennessy that Flicker was The Doer, and in time, she could send him to do what he did best. It was all a matter of command and having a good and proper flunky. Having a good flunky was one of a wizard’s greatest assets, and a capable flunky was to be treasured and adored. Flicker was her best possible candidate. 




 


Sucking wind, Hennessy crashed to the floor and then did not get up. He lay there, soaked with sweat, his sides heaving, his earth pony strength having abandoned him. He waited for a stinging swat from Mister Balister’s swagger stick, but no such blow came. Relieved, he kept sucking wind while laying on the cool, smooth floor. 


“Mister Gambit, if you would please come over here,” Mister Balister said, his voice commanding and cool. “While Mister Walker is resting, I think a demonstration is in order to inspire him. Miss Pie, do come over here at once.” 


Hennessy lifted his head as the others drew near and he wished that he had some water. If he drank it right now, he knew that he would just sick it up in his current state, but that wouldn’t stop him from drinking. Piper sat down just a few feet away, and Flicker stood nearby, holding two wooden swords, slashing them through the air. 


“What should I demonstrate?” Moonlit asked. 


Looking thoughtful, Mister Balister did not reply right away. He shifted his weight from his right side to his left side, then back to his right side, and then replied, “A single backflip off of the four foot wall, if you please, Mister Gambit.” 


“Righto.” Grinning, the pale colt made an effortless leap to the top of the four foot wall, which was only about six inches wide. He stood atop it, balancing with ease, and then in a stunning move of dexterity, he backflipped from the wall, somersaulted through the air, and landed on his hooves. 


“Now, Mister Gambit, an explanation as to why this is important,” Mister Balister commanded. 


“Balance is everything. We might fall, we might get flung, and in our work, we regularly make leaps from high places. Being able to reorient in the air, knowing which way is up or down, and being able to land upon our hooves is paramount. It could mean the difference between life or death.” 


“Very good,” Mister Balister said, offering a little dry praise that lacked much in the way of enthusiasm. “Mister Gambit here was in the sewers of Manehattan a while back—” 


Moonlit Gambit groaned and shook his head as he backed away. 


“ —and in a stunning display of gross, cretinous levels of ineptitude, he slipped while walking across some pipes slick with sewage condensation. Had he recovered, he might have landed upon some pipes just below him, but due to his complete and utter failure, he ended up dunked in a river of wastewater and he went for a swim. He hasn’t smelled quite right since. It is the putrid stench of… failure and it is my most sincere hope that he grows to loathe it. Perhaps some ridicule might condition him to hate that stench as much as I do.” 


“I’m never going to live that down,” Moonlit muttered as his ears drooped in shame.


“No!” Mister Balister gave Moonlit a hearty swat on the neck with his swagger stick and the colt didn’t even flinch. “You will not live that down until you redeem yourself and take steps to ensure that sort of gross incompetency never happens again! You might have died, and your poor sweet mother might have sobbed at your graveside, her and your father living the rest of their lives regretting that their inept son bungled his life away and drown in a river of shit!” To make his point, the cranky older pony brought his swagger stick down twice on the same spot on Moonlit’s neck, and on the second blow, Moonlit flinched, his ears pinning back as Balister snarled. 


Moonlit whimpered, not so much from pain, but from the idea of his mother mourning his death. That hurt more than anything, and his eyes almost began to water as he thought about it. His mother, Lady Gambit, was a good and gracious mare, sweet, caring, and lived a life of public service, throwing parties to raise money for charitable causes. The idea of making his mother cry hurt more than just about anything Moonlit could think of. She had raised him to be selfless, giving, and self-sacrificing in his service to others.  


“One hundred backflips from the four foot wall, you disgusting shit-swimmer,” Mister Balister demanded of the glassy eyed colt on the verge of tears. “NOW, BEFORE THE WEAKNESS SPILLS OUT YOUR EYES!”


“Right away, Mister Balister, glad to do it, Mister Balister,” Moonlit replied as he rushed to comply. 


Hennessy, fearing reprisal, felt a question that needed to be asked. He could feel it on his tongue, like a bitter pill, demanding to be let out, and his body twitched as he thought about the possible lashing he might get. Still, the question remained, and Hennessy desperately wanted an answer. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, turned to Mister Balister, and then summoned as much courage as he could. 


“Could I see a demonstration of what you can do when you leap from the wall?” Hennessy asked as Moonlit landed with a clatter. “I only ask so I can see what I need to aspire to. I mean no disrespect.” 


Mister Balister’s response had a surprising amount of gentleness and graciousness. “I would be glad to show you. So few students ask for a demonstration, they rush into it thinking that they know everything. It is a rare occasion that I get a chance to show anypony how it is done. Most would rather learn the hard way and I am all too willing to oblige them as they smash face first into the floor.” 


Beaming, Hennessy felt both relieved and proud. Moonlit paused his in exercise to watch, and Flicker put his swords away. Piper, her legs sore, sat down beside Hennessy, and together, the apprentices watched as Balister began to limber up, all of them with eager faces and perked ears. 


With an explosion of movement, Balister went streaking away, his close cropped mane and tail bobbing, and his hooves clattered over the floor. He moved with the fluid grace that came from thousands of hours of practice and a lifetime of living his skills. Away he lept, soaring through the air towards the eight foot wall. With ease, he landed on the top edge, standing on his two front hooves, doing a neat hoof-stand, with his hind hooves straight up over his head. 


Laughing, he did a flip, launching himself straight up with his front hooves, and then he landed once more on top of the wall, and it was obvious to anypony watching that the older stallion was being playful—having fun on the job—and he showed off a little by standing on one front hoof. He did a few one hoof pushups, touching his nose to the top of the wall, and then, standing on his two front hooves once more, he lept backwards away from the wall. 


In the air, he did six full backwards somersaults before he landed on all four hooves, but he wasn’t done. The second he landed, he sprung away, cartwheeling on two legs, he rolled around the room, heading for the six foot wall, and standing on his hind legs, he lept to the top, doing a neat little flip on the way. He landed atop the six foot wall, standing on his hind hooves, clapped his two front hooves together, bowed, then lept away again. In midair, he changed direction, twisting about, and did a front facing flip. 


He landed on his right front hoof, balanced, and not even breathing hard. 


“All of you will be able to do this in time,” Mister Balister said in a calm voice that didn’t have even the slightest bit of strain to it. “It will be like second nature to you. You will learn and your muscles will gain memory.” 


“Doctor Sterling moved like that when the rats swarmed me.” Piper’s voice was a low whisper. 


“Yes, and had you some training and experience, you would have been able to save yourself by leaping away, getting to a place that the rats couldn’t reach you,” Balister replied, still standing on one front hoof. “Or just going from place to place, never staying in one spot long enough for the rats to swarm you.” He dropped down to all fours once more, and with a look of concern and worry in his eyes, he approached Piper. “What happened to you is regrettable. I know for a fact that the good doctor blames himself for what took place. You will now live your life with some awful scars, which is a tough thing for a filly your age to face down. My suggestion is, use it to motivate yourself. You know what the pain feels like, make certain that you never experience that pain again. The pain of training is far preferable. In this life, we have the glorious option to choose what sort of pain we experience. It is magnificent and all of us should revel in this bounty of choice we have been given.” 


“Yes, Mister Balister.” Piper nodded her head. 


Then, the soft concern in his eyes melted away with a flash and was replaced with benevolent cruelty. He slapped Moonlit on the neck four times and barked, “You lazy shit-swimmer! Get to work! Give to me what I am owed!”