Extended Holiday
Ch 108: What’s in the Box?
Act 16
Pensword stood in the cave, and gazed frustratedly up at the crystal tree. “So, you are telling me that we are living above the source of harmony for Equis, and quite possibly the universe, and the vines were planted by Discord to kill the tree?” He closed his left eye in pain. “Anything else I should know as the future head of the military, Princess Celestia? You do realize I am going to have to put at least some Changelings around to protect this now. Also, I really want to chew out Discord for what he did.”
Celestia sighed. “We couldn’t tell anyone until now, Pensword. The tree wouldn’t let us. When the vines attacked and kidnapped us, that link was broken, and we are now free to discuss with whom we will.” She circled the strange chest that had grown from the tree’s roots, before fixing Pensword with narrowed eyes. “However, Commander, I’m afraid I must insist on a few caveats for your request.”
“As long as it doesn’t prevent my maintaining control and security, and I am not telling Shawn, nor Hammer Strike. He’s got enough on his plate, and. . ..” He scuffed a hoof on the dirt floor. “I want a project for my military to do, something other than construction. Not all soldiers are up to building.”
“Well, you covered our main concern right there. Hammer Strike must not know about the tree. Not yet. She made that very clear to us when we were connected by the plunder vines. As for creating a guard to watch over the tree–.”
“I’m afraid we will have to belay that,” Luna spoke up as she stepped out from a shadow behind the tree. “A matter this delicate should be placed in appropriate hooves. This is an intelligence matter, after all.” A glance passed between her, Celestia, Twilight, and Grif momentarily.
“Of course, your Majesty,” Pensword replied as he forced his face into a neutral mask. “When will you and I work on the coming final presentation?” he asked as his eyes roamed over the elements in the tree.
“First I will return to Ys, and finish settling the chaos of recent events. Once everything is in order, I will return, and we can begin drafting the proper documents, and working on the necessary speeches.” Luna nodded. “We must work quickly. The House of Lords convenes in less than a month's time, and we must push as soon as we are able.”
“Shall I head to Ys, or shall we conduct them in your old quarters?” Pensword asked.
“It would be better to do it here,” Luna said.
“I shall prepare quarters fitting for your station, then, High Chieftess,” Pensword replied with a Thestral bow. “I hope you don’t mind that I schedule some time for you to play with Moon River.”
“Your daughter is important, Commander. Never think it is an imposition to spend time with her.”
“Understood.” Pensword smiled. “She will definitely enjoy this. You can teach her tactics or hunting. Faust knows she’ll get you to teach her something by the time she’s through with you. She does it to everyone she interacts with to one extent or another.”
“Learning while we are young makes us strong when we are old.” Luna chuckled softly.
Suddenly, Spike belched, letting loose a gout of green flame that materialized into a scroll sealed with Hammer Strike’s insignia. He picked it up, and read the scrawl on the scroll.
“It’s for the two of you,” he said, handing it to Celestia and Luna.
The two princesses read the scroll, and promptly blanched.
“Uh . . . Princess Luna? Princess Celestia?” Twilight asked worriedly.
“H-Hammer Strike–” Luna gulped “–has some questions.” Her eye began to twitch as she let out a series of nervous chuckles. “About how we were captured.”
“Luna, if you love me, I must beg you to do one thing for me, here and now,” Celestia said seriously. “Banish me to the sun. Please!”
Luna’s horn lit up suddenly. “I’m sorry, Sister, but I do not owe you a kindness.” And in an instant, her form exploded into starlight, which promptly faded.
Pensword looked with wide eyes at the place where Luna had been. “She could have just said she and I were discussing some important matters.” He frowned. “I am going to have to have a long talk with Hammer Strike. I was in the middle of discussing things, and suddenly she goes off to get her good armor.”
Celestia sighed. “First off, that won’t work, Pensword. Hammer Strike will know if you’re lying. And she hasn’t gotten her good armor. She’s dispersed herself to avoid meeting with him.” She shook her head. “I suppose I’ll have to face him head on. Knowing him, he’d come and drag us out of wherever we’re hiding anyways. Twilight, I might need you to run things again for another week or two.”
“You mean. . .?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Um, Princess Celestia?”
“Yes, Twilight?”
“Can . . . can I watch?”
Celestia blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”
“If he’s going to put you through training, can I watch? I need to study other styles, so I can prepare countermeasures against them. And besides that, it should be fairly simple for me to reinstitute the structure I started with before.”
Celestia blinked in utter bewilderment. “Twilight, I don’t know whether to be proud of you, or concerned for you.”
“Um, thank you?” Twilight responded as she tilted her head, and raised a confused brow.
“You know,” Grif noted, “it’s weird. I’d have figured you’d be the most reluctant for combat, next to fluttershy, that is.”
“Grif, how many ultimate villains have I had to go against now in the last five years?” Twilight asked with a deadpan expression.
“Yes, but it is still something to see. Who knows? You might even end up modernizing today’s battle mage classes, at the rate you're going. You're really stepping into your role well.”
“I look forward to hiring those battlemages from your school in the coming years,” Pensword said with a laugh.
Celestia smiled, despite herself. “Thank you, the both of you. I needed that. With that being said, I really do need to go see Hammer Strike.” She sighed. “Grif, pray for me.”
“Would that even help? I mean, my gods are different than yours.”
“Grif, this is Hammer Strike we’re talking about. Every bit helps.” Then, in a flash of light, she was gone.
Pensword stood there, and looked around. “I am going to go spend time with my family, and . . . not get in front of this problem.”
“Wise decision,” Grif said.
Moon River smiled as she hid under building material waiting for someone she knew to walk past. She didn’t have her crossbow with her this time, but she didn’t need it. She had a new technique to try. She wiggled her rump as she caught the scent, and the world turned to a blur as the darkness she was hiding in turned to the light of late morning. It blinded her, but she stayed on target with hearing and smell, and landed around the neck of her prey.
Grif was walking by when he caught movement, felt the air disturbance, and then the weight of a small Pony hugging at tightly as she could around his broad neck.
“Well now, what are you doing out here this early?” Grif asked Moon River as he chuckled good-naturedly.
Moon River babbled happily in response, then laughed gleefully. She was clearly having a good time, which likely meant she was causing problems to either her parents, sitters, or just running around to drive them all crazy with worry.
“Making sure everyone's on their hooves, and ready for anything?”
She nodded her head, and giggled as Grif felt several prickly seed pods hit his fur. It seemed her little herd of trouble makers had just attacked the street. At least three Unicorns were growling, and one looked livid, while those who were used to the children’s antics just laughed, and started to pick out the bolts. At least they hadn’t been dipped in wet paint. Moon River had taken a rather firm spanking after that little incident.
“Anybody gives you any trouble, you just tell them you're under orders, okay?” Grif asked with a conspiratorial wink.
She nodded her head, and flapped her left wing, while sticking her right hoof over Grif’s ear.
“Good.” Grif used his wing tips to ruffle the tufts of her ears. “After everything so far, I think it’s time everyone started learning some constant vigilance.”
She nodded, and, like any foal, she saw another shiny thing in the distance that immediately grabbed her attention, and scampered off after it. The moment she was out of hearing, the disgruntled Unicorn stepped up to Grif. “How can you encourage such behavior? She’s not some savage. She’s the– I was told she’s the daughter of a High Duke. How can her father let her get away with something like this? I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to inform him of this behavior if you don’t do anything to curtail it.”
Grif locked eyes on him, and an instinctual response as old as time kicked in. Fear. Primal, ancient fear that only comes when a prey species finds itself under the gaize of an angry apex predator flooded the Unicorn with dread.
“Who are you?” Grif asked in slow, drawn-out words.
The Unicorn drew himself up as best he could. “Guppy Horn, third born of house Horn Silver. We run most all Horn Silver supplies. As a noble in this realm, I am hoping that you will not be teaching her to act more akin to those of blood and wings.” It was a modern term, but still one that looked down on even the noble houses of the Pegasi. And besides that, it also insulted every Gryphon in the clan. “So, will you stop encouraging her to act below her station?
“Guppy Horn, last I checked, neither Princess Twilight Sparkle nor Lord Hammer Strike had given a noble title to the lands of Everfree or the greater Everfree area. You may be on Equestrian soil, but you are within the sovereign lands of New Unity, given in trust to Lord Hammer Strike. Not Count Hammer strike, not Duke Hammer Strike. Lord. The moment you stepped onto these lands, you became the same as everyone else here. Hell, with your attitude, you became less then everyone else here. Yet you had the pretentious, asinine, moronic nerve to talk down to me, Clan Leader Grif Grafson Bladefeather, head of the first Equestrian Gryphon clan. You then had the further idiocy to scold me about how I treat my god daughter. Tell me, Guppy Horn, is it your family's twenty square hectares of what you claim to be a county that gives you this right, or the former fortune your family had from silver that was swallowed up in debt for your family’s unduly lavish lifestyle?”
Guppy Horn started to back off as Grif’s carefully controlled rage rose like a tsunami, and Guppy didn’t have time to find the high ground. Grif didn’t leave him space to get far, keeping close as he stared the Unicorn down.
“Have you and your family of conscientious objectors some military experience, some grand deed you use to power your words?” Grif looked down at him as he drew his head up to his full height. “I fought in the Third Gryphon War, while your family hid in Unity, and crafted silver ornaments as a way to dodge the draft. I run the most efficient mercenary company in Equestria, and, with the snap of my fingers, I could swarm the area within your range of perception with armed Gryphon warriors. My goddaughter is young, and by all the winds, if I have any say about it, she will enjoy every precious moment of it!
“You are nothing within these lands. And until Lord Hammer Strike himself has a good reason to tell me otherwise, you will be treated and accounted like any other Pony who lives here. If you assume to talk in this manner to me, or anyone else here again, I will not hesitate to have you sent to the stocks. Now, is this understood, or do I need to retrieve the signed document from Princess Luna restating my authority?”
Guppy Horn was very flustered, and looked many things in the few seconds it took him to find his voice. The final settled on indignation and bluster. “How … how dare…? You may be the first Gryphon clan that Princess Celestia sanctioned, but that doesn’t give you authority here. She must have simply felt sorry for you. I can’t say I blame her.” He huffed. “I’m going to go speak to girl’s father about this. It’s clear my words are lost on you. Tell me where he is. I suppose he’d likely be strolling through the gardens this time of day,” he mused. “Regardless, I intend to have words with the commander, whether he likes it or not.”
Guppy Horn didn’t notice the sudden withdrawal of the Ponies around him, nor did he recognize the sharp intake of breaths as foals’ eyes were covered by adults. While Thestrals and one Pegasus pushed their foals forward to watch. Grinning at the teaching opportunity.
Grif’s palm came across the Pony’s face with an echoing smack. “Don’t you dare imply the commander spends his days lazing about. That stallion works day in and day out trying to make sure that if, and when, a threat arises, you all will have some form of protection that won’t be delayed by your stupid, petty little squabbles. No matter what you think of me, no matter what you think of my people, you will respect him within these walls, or I will rip your yellow tongue out!” A sharp, cold autumn wind cut in from the north as Grif’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll find the commander in his office. The servants will direct you inside the Castle, and heavens above and below won’t be enough to help you, if I find out you’ve mistreated any of them.” Grif had extended a single talon, and, without realizing it, had slowly pressed closer towards Guppy Horn’s neck as he spoke. “Do you understand me, you inbred pondscum?”
Guppy Horn blustered, and sputtered, before he found his tongue again. “You. . ..” He huffed and snorted. “Very well. I shall go find his office,” he rumbled as he stepped back. He turned and saw one of the maids, who Grif instantly recognized as one of Me-Me’s children. “You! Take me to this ‘commander.’” Grif Cleared his his throat meaningfully, and Guppy Horn winced. “Please,” he grated. It looked like it has actually hurt him to say the word.
“Certainly, Milord. It’s just this way,” the maid said as she nodded formally to Grif, before making her way towards the castle. Guppy grumbled to himself the whole way as the pair walked slowly out of sight.
Hammer Strike gave a sigh of relief as he removed the final thorn from his coat. While they didn’t hurt, they sure didn’t feel comfortable. He’d sent a letter to Celestia and Luna around thirty minutes ago, and they had another half an hour, before he began hunting them down, unless they wrote a letter to alert him with something of sufficient importance to prevent their immediate response.
His ear twitched as he heard the familiar hesitant hoofsteps of a large, heavy Pony.
But . . . why did he only hear one? He didn’t feel Luna in the shadows.
The door opened in Celestia’s magic as she slowly entered. She hesitated. “You summoned me, Hammer Strike?”
“I summoned both you and Luna. Is she busy?”
“. . . In a manner of speaking. What was it you wished to talk with me about?”
“After listening to a few reports, I was able to determine that Luna and yourself were captured by these chaos plants. I’m just wondering how this came to be.”
Celestia sighed. “We were taken by surprise. There was some sort of concentrated sedative on their thorns. When I awoke, I was immobilized in a bundle of vines, and I felt my magic being drained. I couldn’t even gather enough energy to burn them away.” She sighed. “I know you’re disappointed.”
“I can’t really be disappointed in you being caught in a surprise attack,” Hammer Strike replied after a moment. “I’m more disappointed that Luna isn’t here as well, than I am of that.”
Celestia sighed in relief. “So we’re not in trouble?”
“You aren’t.”
“Thank Mother. But . . . what else did you want me to come here for? You hardly ever call just for the sake of a single question.”
“It was a mix of a question and a test. You passed, while Luna is running out of time to get here. So, mind telling me exactly what she’s doing?”
“I’d rather not.” She looked anywhere she could in the office, except for Hammer Strike.
“Celestia, what is your sister doing?” Hammer Strike put more emphasis on the question.
“She’s . . . visiting some friends.”
“The full truth, Celestia.”
Celestia sighed. “She dispersed herself into stardust, after we read the letter.” Her mane flattened in shame.
“Did she now?” Hammer Strike leaned back in his chair. “All right. I’ll have to track her down when she’s back.” His gaze shifted back to Celestia. “That’s it. You’re good to go.”
“Really?”
“I mean, do you want to do some practice? Sparring?”
“I’m not exactly at your level anymore, Hammer Strike.”
“Gotta start somewhere.” Hammer Strike grinned.
Celestia cleared her throat. “Perhaps another time?”
“We’ll have to schedule that one out, yeah?”
Celestia shifted her eyes back and forth. “Yes. We will do that … later. Bye!” In a flash of light, she was gone.
“Yes. Later. . ..” Hammer Strike hummed as he looked back down to his papers. “After Luna, of course.” Then he chuckled.
Commander Pensword sat at his desk, looking over intel, progress reports on construction, and some new threat assessments based on the fact that the Elements of Harmony were now rendered essentially useless in this new magical artifact known as the Tree of Harmony, which it seemed Vital, Clover, and Grif had taken upon themselves to take care of. Without his knowledge or approval. He snorted to vent his frustration as he did his best to contain his frustration over the matter. Celestia and Luna had overruled him. It was time to move on. His ears twitched as he heard a sound in his outer office, which caused him release an aggravated sigh as he waited for Preston open his door.
“Someone to see you, Commander. Though, if you're busy, I wouldn’t mind letting them know,” he said almost a bit too eagerly.
“If their annoyance is spreading to you, then something serious must have happened, indeed.” He mulled it over, organizing and discarding a variety of potential strategies, before he finally nodded. It was best to get this over with now, rather than give the individual or individuals potential ammunition to use against him later. “Send them in. I’ll deal with whoever it is.” He sighed, and shook his head. He really didn’t need this headache right now.
“Very well,” Preston said somewhat waspishly, before vanishing through the door. Seconds later, a different Pony entered.
“And who are you?” Pensword asked, giving the Unicorn the sternest look he could manage. It was best to keep the nobles off their game, after all, and an aggressive beginning often helped establish the tone that he wouldn’t broke disrespect in his office. Guppy Horn was, naturally, unnerved.
“Guppy Horn, High Duke,” the Unicorn said, even as he flinched back from the glare. A bright yellow splotch had stained his emerald coat. “I was told to talk to you.”
Pensword’s answer was harsh, quick, and belligerent. “Yes? I assume this has to do with my daughter, judging by the rather unique design on your coat. I appreciate your desire to adhere to formality, Guppy Horn, but in this office, in this building, I am Commander Pensword, Supreme Commander of all Equestrian Military forces. I would appreciate if you would address me as such.”
Guppy Horn took a deep breath. “Very well. Commander. Yes, I seem to have experienced a bit of a run-by shooting. When I expressed my concerns to the girl’s godfather, he took issue to my complaints, and even went so far as to slap me, merely for guessing where I might be able to locate you to discuss my concerns. I understand the need to let a foal be a foal while she has the time, but this kind of action is downright ridiculous, and incredibly inconvenient, not to mention time-consuming. I must protest, and I would even go so far as to ask you to please curb her behavior, before it gets even more out of hoof.”
Pensword sighed. “I suppose I should have sent a general warning the Solar Court’s way,” he mused. “Tell me, Guppy Horn, what do you know of Thestral teachings?” he asked as a gout of flame rose from his dragonfire lamp to spit out a scroll with the bloodfeather seal on it. He quickly picked up the scroll, and unrolled it.
“Namely that they’re more primitive and tribalistic in nature,” Guppy Horn admitted. “Such behavior is not generally looked very kindly upon in the Solar Court.
“Based on my report here, Guppy, you certainly seem informed enough on tribal slurs,” Pensword said in a deceptively mild tone. His gentle eyes had hardened as his pupils shifted to slits. “How interesting that you happened to leave that little comment out of your story.”
“It’s not a slur. It merely refers to the method of your training. It actively encourages youth to be more prone to violence, as has been clearly evidenced in multiple studies, Pensword.”
“Commander Pensword.”
“Enough! I am a fellow noble. We hold the same blood right to rule, you and I. I respect your desire to honor your office, but I’m here to warn you about your daughter. What if she were to get ahold of a real weapon, instead of burrs and dye? What then? Somepony could get hurt.”
Pensword’s eye twitched. “First of all, it is clear you are exceptionally ignorant of our ways, if you think we would be foolish enough to allow her near any form of legitimate weapon without proper supervision. Secondly, we teach our foals, without exception, to control their aggressive tendencies, and hone them in training for the sake of self defense, such as when a gang of drunken asses decide to try to gang rape an unarmed mare, just because they think she’s lower class and an easy target. Until the Lunar Court was properly established, our people, the ones you deem so bloodthirsty, never had a proper voice. You and your kind saw to that after Luna’s fall and subsequent banishment. Before that happened, your people needed us, and without our aid, you can bet, as sure as Tartarus, that Equestria would have fallen, or else sustained significantly higher losses. You haven’t even sought a proper understanding of our culture, just taking superstition and secondhand accounts!”
Pensword slowly rounded on Guppy Horn, who was looking more and more frightened as he drew closer. “I earned my blood right, Guppy Horn. I fought in the Third Gryphon War.” He paused as he looked in the noble’s eyes. The familiar look of boredom and frustration flickered dimly behind the fear. He knew that look. He knew it well. A vein began to throb on his forehead. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Luna’s damned blood moon,” he swore. “You don’t know what that means, do you? You have absolutely no idea.” By this time, Guppy Horn had been backed against the wall, and was doing his best to inch to the side towards the door. Pensword grit his teeth, and took a deep breath. “Get out,” he whispered.
“Excuse me?”
“I said get out! And don’t come back till you’ve read the proper records about that war, not the watered down drivel you saw in school. You have no idea, but you will, if I have anything to say about it. You and yours will know just how close you nobles came to losing your lands, your precious bloodlines, and your freedoms. Look at the sacrifices made, the Ponies who died, the battles they waged, the families they lost!” he roared, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Then, and only then, when you truly understand, may you return speak with me.” He moved and used his wings to usher the Unicorn towards the door, which Preston had been kind enough to open.
“But–.”
“Not another word, until you know about that war,” Pensword said. “Preston, have our noble friend here escorted to one of the private rooms, and get him Grif’s overview of the Third Gryphon war, and Baron Blueblood the First’s personal accounts, along with the memorial registry sorted by tribe and military rank, and any accompanying witness accounts connected to their deaths from that particular era of conflict. Make sure meals are brought to him.”
“But, Duke Pensword, surely–.”
“OUT!” The Royal Canterlot Voice bowled Guppy horn and Preston both over into the receptionist’s office, and the door slammed shut behind them.
Pensword snorted in frustration, and returned to his desk. He retrieved the discarded report from Grif, and soon discovered an addendum on his desk labeled INTELLIGENCE. He opened the file, and began to peruse the contents. Half way through the analysis, he slammed it down onto the desk, and ground it beneath his hoof. “That spoiled, self-entitled, aristocratic snob! How dare he? How dare he mock my daughter, our children!” He snarled as he thrust several files off his desk, along with the dragonfire lamp, which promptly shattered, burst outwards in a massive spurt, then died, leaving a heavy scorch mark surrounding a glowing red stone. “PRESTON!” he bellowed. ‘We really need to get an intercom system in here,’ he thought to himself.
“Yes, Sir?” Preston galloped in.
“I want you to contact the Thestrals. Tell them that our new noble friend, and those of his house are free game for play stalking, hunting, and rubber suction cup crossbow bolts, outside of his studies, of course. If he thinks the daughter of the High Duke should shun her Thestral heritage, simply because he doesn’t have a thick enough hide, then let him be the target of all Thestral Noble foals!” he commanded. “I think it would do him some good.” He smirked. “Besides, it’s time we let him know that the nobility is no longer run by the Unicorns of Canterlot.”
“I’ll see to it right away, Sir,” Preston said with a positively malicious sneer.
“Excellent,” Pensword praised. “You have my leave, Preston. I have some studying of my own to do. Keep me updated on how our ‘guest’ fares.”
“With pleasure,” Preston buzzed as he left.
With that done, Pensword returned to his desk, and pulled out a dusty book with a clean white cover. He sighed, then looked on with a determined gaze. He wouldn’t let himself shun it any more. “Time for me to study.” He flipped open the book, and began to read. “‘Chapter one: Sensing Thaumic Energy. . ..’”
Vital’s pearl glowed a light blue as the magical energies being transferred into it wafted and flickered upwards like a slow-moving blue flame. “Is this about the right flow, Clover?” he asked.
“It seems to be.” Clover nodded. “Keep going.”
“Yes, ma’am. For how long?”
“Another fifteen minutes.”
“Is that how long it takes to charge, or just how long you want me to keep up the flow for now?”
“That's how long I want you to go. We’re not pushing you for a full charge yet.”
“Just for the sake of reference, about how much can this gem take?”
“More than most Unicorns can supply. Gems are the best ways to store energy.”
“I just don’t want to risk overcharging it.”
Clover shrugged as she glanced up from a thick tome she’d unearthed from Star Swirl’s hoard. “You’re at more of a risk tapping yourself out completely than overcharging a gemstone.”
“Good to know.” He nodded.
“Hopefully we’ll be able to charge a sufficient supply of these gems, which you can keep on your person.”
“Fair enough. Should I set aside time each day to channel into gems, then?”
“That would be wise,” she agreed.
“Then I’ll make sure to do it. Hmm.” He stroked his chin with a hoof. “I wonder if Hammer Strike would want a gem like this for a wedding present. I know Rarity can get him any gem, and he doesn’t like elegance, but he does like function, and having an energy source like that could be useful in his experiments.”
“These gems aren't going to be compatible with others. For normal Unicorns, it’s possible, but you have extenuating circumstances.”
“And Hammer Strike doesn’t fall under extenuating circumstances?”
“You haven’t read what would happen if you try to force aspect energy from one field to another yet. It’s not a process one does on a whim.”
“. . . Fair point. I guess when I transfer magical energy into the gem, it would take my aspects with it. I hadn’t considered that point.” He sighed. “But what should I get him then? That wedding’s going to be coming up soon, most likely in the spring time, so they have enough time to plan everything out and make up the guest list, stuff like that. I know Rarity’s planning on pulling out all the stops.” He sighed. “You knew him in the past, Clover. Do you have any idea of what might be a good gift to get him?”
“Do you want me to write you a thesis on the meaning of life while I’m at it? Perhaps draw you a map to the long lost Alicorn City? Paint you a picture of the celestial heavens? Or maybe you’d like a perfectly rendered sculpture of Faust herself?” Clover said with a roll of her eyes “I don’t know what to get Hammer Strike. How in sleipnir's name would I be able to tell you?”
“Woah, woah, woah. What was that about an Alicorn city?”
And a book promptly hit him in the muzzle. “Read every once in awhile, Vital. I shouldn’t need to explain children's fairy tales to you.”
Vital examined the cover closely. “. . . Clover, this is the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on a book like this before, and I’ve looked pretty thoroughly through the fantasy and fiction sections, trust me. Actually, that Lewis Carrot wasn’t too far off about what the human world is like. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took a journey through the mirror the last time it was opened.”
“And yet you missed one of Grimble and Grumble’s oldest stories.” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, who?”
“They were a pair of Unicorns from pre-unification who traveled around the three tribes’ lands collecting folktales and stories.”
“Sounds like the brothers Grimm.”
“Who?”
“Two human brothers who roamed all of Europe seeking ancient stories and folktales to compile into one volume. Things like Cinderella, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, though the stories have been through a lot of revision over the years. Say, Clover, is this book from your private collection?”
“Well, either way, Grimble and Grumble found stories about lost worlds, and even several supposedly dead cities. Shangri La, El Dorado, Avalon, but one of the most told stories of my time was of Atlantica, the Alicorn ruins that stand despite the eons since their people fell.”
“Atlantica? Seriously?” Vital Spark asked with a deadpan expression.
“Is something wrong?”
“In my world, that’s the name for an underwater city of merpeople in a fantasy cartoon based on an old folktale that deviates massively from the true story plotline. It’s basically a ripoff of Atlantis.”
“And what is Atlantis?”
“An ancient mythical city from our world’s folklore. It’s one of the older legends. Basically, it was a perfect civilization, where technology and arts flourished and developed far beyond that of any other race or people of the era. Some claim it was magic. As the story goes, the peoples of Atlantis went too far, and because of their pride, they were punished by the gods, and their island city was sunk to the bottom of the sea, far beyond the reach of man.”
“Huh.” Clover shrugged. “There are a lot of strange parallels between our worlds.” Clover shrugged. “Anyway, when you’re finished with that gem, you can go for today. Tomorrow, you’ll be joining in with Grif and Rarity. Bring your focus.”
“Will Twilight be joining us, too?”
“Possibly. Grif’s agreed to help get you and a few Unicorns more in touch with your weapons.”
“Good. I’m still kind of stuck for a name with mine. Funny, considering how easily they usually come to me.” Vital shrugged. “Ah well. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually. Say, can I borrow that book? I was getting a little tired of reading my practice stories. It’s time to graduate to something more advanced anyways.”
“Just take care of it.”
“You bet. I wonder if Twilight’s ever heard of these before,” he muttered to himself as he levitated the book into his saddle bag.
Grif looked around the cleared field. A confused collection of Unicorns stood awkwardly to one side while Rarity and Ping both sat before a rolled-out stretch of parchment. Rarity had a quill and inkwell, and Ping had a brush. More rolled-up slips of parchment, and quills waited in neat stretched-out rows.
“Well, don’t be shy. Find a place, and sit down.” Grif gestured to the open spaces.
The group did so. “So, uh, Grif, would you mind explaining what’s going on here?” Vital asked as he laid his focus next to him.
“I need to know how well you understand your weapon,” Grif explained. “What are its flaws? What are its strengths? How does it like to be held? A good warrior understands all these minor details in battle. To gauge where you stand, you’re each going to write a short poem describing your weapon’s persona.”
“Not haiku, I hope. No offense to the noble art, but I don’t know if I can make it that succinct,” Vital said with a respectful nod to Ping.
“The type of poem is up to you. It’s what’s behind it that matters. Understanding your weapon for all that it is, and how it reflects you, can change the face of the battlefield.”
“I’m guessing a lot of the Ponies here are going to have some trouble.” Vital frowned. “. . . I miss Silver Spear.”
“He’ll be back sooner than you know,” Grif assured him.
Vital sighed. “I hope so.” Then he steeled himself, and looked up to Grif. “So when do we start?”
“Whenever you're ready. Unless anyone else has questions?” Grif asked as he peered around the clearing.
The rest of the guards were quick to shake their heads.
“Then, everyone, start your pens!” Vital smiled as he levitated the quill and inkwell over, then picked up his staff to stare at it and the pearl that sat in its mount. The other Unicorns also took their materials, and began to stare at their weapons. Some swung wildly, or went through carefully controlled exercises. Others closed their eyes to enter into deep meditation, and others still simply scratched their heads in utter confusion.
Grif, for his part, sat patiently at the front of the group. He casually ran his talons across the hilts of his swords. He didn’t need to write down his thoughts to express them. They were ice and fire, the heavens and the earth, thunder and lighting. Vigilance fed from the chaos of the battle, while Vengeance fed from the wrath of his anger. Vigilance preferred high cuts, and reveled in decapitation, while Vengeance preferred the lower strikes, and found great satisfaction in running an enemy through. The two blades where the same, and yet different, and he understood them intricately.
“This exercise may be harder for those of you who haven’t seen battle with your focus yet. Try to visualize it in your head, and it might help give you a picture.”
Vital Spark sighed as he looked over his staff. “You know, I’ve used you plenty of times, but never really much in battle. The only time I ever did consciously was when we had to cast that spell to protect the castle. You and I don’t really like to fight. We prefer to help when we can.” He smiled as the name slid into place in his mind. “I think I’ll call you Watcher. We only fight when we have no other choice, and when we do, it’s to protect the ones we love.” And with that, the quill began to fly across the page as he began his first draft.
Grif smiled as he noticed Vital’s progress quicken. He was starting to understand it, or at least to understand the relation between him and his weapon. Clover’s Unicorns were still making short bursts of progress followed by moments of nothing. Ping had finished her poem in rather delicate calligraphy, and was busy inspecting her nodachi’s edge, while Rarity oiled her blade meticulously with a rag.
“Huh. I think I might be done. At least with the first draft,” Vital finally said as he got up, and handed his scroll to Grun.
Betwixt the paths of space and time, I called you, and you came.
In hours of need we stand as one, our purposes the same.
To heal, to warn, to guard, to love, to reason and make wise.
Tis only when the dire comes that we fight for our lives,
and for the lives of those held dear within our double heart.
For in the beginning, and through the end, we act the Watcher's part.
“Huh,” Grif said as he read over the poem. “You certainly understand . . . Watcher?”
Vital nodded his confirmation.
“We’re going to have to work on what the two of you consider a necessary combat situation, and you're going to need to get a little deeper into the personality of your weapon,” Grif critiqued, “but you definitely get the concept.”
“It kinda helps picturing Watcher as a person, instead of an object.”
“It is, in a sense.” Grif looked at him. “It’s a projection of you, a shard of your very being made real. As experience molds and changes you, it will mold and change your weapon, and from that, it will deviate from you. You need to understand it in order to understand how to use it.”
“And to know it, I must know myself?”
“Yes, and everything about yourself,” Grif noted. “That little part you don’t think about, that tiny voice most people ignore? The good, the bad, the dark, the light, the sinner and the saint. You need to understand all parts of you.”
“And if I already understand them, but don’t want to be them?”
“You think I want the bloodlust?” There wasn’t anger in his tone, just cold neutrality. “You think I enjoy that part of me that revels in the warmth of my enemies’ blood on my fur? You don’t need to delve into that side of you, and you don’t need to accept all that’s evil about you, but you do have to accept it’s there. It will always be there. Every light casts a shadow, and it is the shadows that brighten the light. To destroy one is to destroy the other.”
“Okay, first of all, wasn’t talking about destroying them, so I’m sorry if I hit a nasty cord there. Secondly, I agree. I just wanted to make sure I had the proper gist of the lesson.”
“Clover went over the basic forms with you for a staff, I take it?”
“Why do you think I’ve been training with a bo staff in the yard?”
"From now on, you’re going to be using Watcher for them, and you're going to be doing them once in the morning and once at night with your hooves. Rarity has told me she understands sword forms better after learning them physically first.”
“In other words, muscle memory switches over to magical memory.”
“It can shave nanoseconds off your movements, and that, believe it or not, can save your life.”
“Hey, I believe it. Any other tips?”
“Clover taught you to polish, sharpen, and oil your weapon where needed?”
“Yup. Right after we all reported in to show her our work. In a way, these are a lot like zanpakuto, aren’t they?”
“If zanpakuto were this complicated.” Grif laughed. “They don’t need to be sharpened, cleaned, or oiled, after all. Either way, you should attend one class a month with Rarity and Ping, and we’ll work on getting you to the position you need to be, all right?”
“Um . . . do you think we could maybe add Zecora to that list? She seems pretty handy with a staff.”
“If she wants to come and offer some guidance, I won’t say no, but my job is to make sure you learn to respect this.” Grif tapped the metallic end of watcher. “Even if it’s not a blade, it’s still something you need to watch.”
“I know.”
“Hey, what are we, chopped liver?” one of the other Unicorns yelled.
“Oh no. I like chopped liver,” Grif said, doing an about face from Vital, and looking at them. “You slobs are the pathetic, sad souls that are you, and I am the devil that Clover sold you all to. As of now, you’d all better consider yourselves back to boot camp. We’ll be doing two classes a week, until I’m satisfied. If I am not satisfied in a month, we’ll be doing three classes a week. The Changelings took us by surprise, but when plants are getting the best of you, then it gets pathetic. Clover will mold you into mages, but it will be here that you become true battle mages, and you will address me as Sir, boy! Is that clear?”
The offending Unicorn gulped. “S-sir, yes, Sir.”
“Very good. Now those of you who are finished, turn your poems in at the front, and pair into groups. If I see a horn so much as spark while you spar, the whole group runs twenty laps around the outside of new unity! And as for those of you not finished yet, hurry the heck up! This isn’t a spa!”
“Um, Sir?”
“Yes, Unicorn who must consider his next words very carefully?”
“With all due respect, Sir, where does that put Vital Spark in all this? Will he be running and training with us from now on?”
“Vital Spark is the apprentice to Clover the Clever. He is here on her request to brush up on his weapon work, but he is still her direct pupil. She has agreed to teach you all in the battle mage program, as have I. This means while he will be sitting in on some of our time together, he is not here to be molded into something resembling a warrior who might survive on the battlefield. You are. Is that clear enough?”
The soldier saluted immediately. “Yes, Sir!”
“Good.” Grif chuckled darkly. “Now let’s get this party started.”
Big Guns snorted impatiently as he ran the whetstone over his war axe. The delegate was supposed to be arriving today, and he hated feeling so anxious about the whole thing. He’d already tried running, well, charging in his case. That hadn’t worked out so well for the gatehouse. He still couldn’t remember why it was so hard for him to turn away. Then he took a cup with the demos. After the last incident, strict orders had been given that he only be allowed a single serving of any of their brews a day. It was bad enough when he got himself plastered the night he found out the news. Zecora had ripped him a new one, as had about half the rest of the garrison, after he wound up on a drunken rampage, and nearly went after the Gryphons to pick a fight. If it weren’t for Grif’s swift intervention, he probably would have.
The plants had turned out to be more of a blessing than a curse. He’d taken down quite a few of them before the sedation, but . . . at least while he was asleep, he was able to dream. He could be his old self again, walk on four hooves, pass through Ponyville without everypony staring, see his mother. . .. He sighed and shook his head as he dabbed the tears away with the stone, and got back to work. Now was not the time, even if he did want to collapse. His mother was long gone by now. He’d visited her grave just a few days prior to lay some flowers. It was covered in lichen, eaten away by time, but the letters were still readable after a careful cleaning. What would she think of him now?
Big Guns sighed again as he finished sharpening the ax, and replaced it in its hip holster. Then he pulled out his war hammer, and started polishing the wood and metal latticework along the hammer’s shaft. Its pommel glowed a wavering light purple, almost as though it were hesitant.
“Big Guns doesn’t know.” He sighed. “So much has changed. How can Big Guns just . . . let go? I don’t want to forget. I . . . I don’t want to lose any more. His eyes stung as he struggled to hold back the traitorous tears. He couldn't cry. He musn’t cry. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. Crying would just make it hurt more, make him look weak when the ambassador came. He couldn't afford it. He couldn’t . . . couldn’t . . ..
His hands tightened on the shaft. “Damn it,” he swore as he felt the hot streaks run down his cheeks. They almost seemed to burn. Or was that just his new Minotaur nature rebelling? He grit his teeth as his arms began to shake from how tightly he held his hammer.
“You find yourself in need, Iron Will’s here to lead!” a voice spoke up behind him.
Of all the times. . .. Big Guns was swift to rise. He reached up to return the hammer to its place on his back, while doing his best to stealthily wipe any signs of the weakness he’d shown. One thing he learned early on was Minotaurs didn’t appreciate weakness, unless it was justified.
He turned to face the Minotaur, and was surprised to find that this one didn’t have any of the markings of tribal garb he’d expected. Iron Will was a tall, burly blue minotaur with yellow eyes, and an even darker blue mane that jutted like a mohawk. His silver nose ring, thick polished horns, and dark blue goatee accentuated his masculinity, and a thicker growth of fur on his shoulders indicated he normally wore pauldrons. About the only article of clothing he seemed to have was a little black tie that was far too small for his gigantic chest.
“You look . . . different than I thought you would,” Big Guns finally said.
“Iron Will doesn’t always dress the same.”
Big Guns shrugged. “So, you came to help me?”
“Iron Will has heard of your situation. He believes he can help you adjust.”
“Do we always refer to ourselves in the third person?” Big Guns blurted.
“No. It’s a quirk of Iron Will alone.”
“Then how come Big– I mean, I . . . do it, too?”
“Iron Will doesn’t know. Iron Will suspected it was just something you did.”
Big Guns shook his head. “Not before . . . before all this.” He sighed. “Zecora told you about everything?”
“She told Iron Will about the garden, and what Iron Will needed to know beyond that.”
“This is the first time something like this has happened for your . . . our? people before, isn’t it?”
“That, Iron Will is aware of, but Iron Will has worked at helping Ponies before, so Iron Will should be able to help you, too.”
“I’m not going to turn into a screaming ball of rage, am I?”
“Iron Will has learned from his mistakes, and has made necessary changes to his program.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer the whole question. I didn’t mean just with your program. I’m . . . well, I guess I’m sort of scared about this. What I’ll lose. What I’ll become.”
“Iron Will isn’t a cow. He isn’t trained in the ancient ways or to offer guidance. He can only help you to motivate yourself.”
“To do what?”
“To find yourself.”
Big Guns snorted as he tried to contain a skeptical laugh. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just . . . Big Guns has been under a lot of pressure lately, mostly from me.” His brow furrowed. “It really is annoying switching between third and first, though.”
“Then pick a stance, and stick with it.”
“That’s the annoying thing. I keep leaning towards the third, but I want to stay first.”
“The only thing holding you back is yourself,” Iron Will said, stomping a hoof. “Grab that part that’s leaning towards third person, and crush it.”
“That’s it?”
“Iron will doesn’t see the need to overcomplicate it.”
“Well, I guess the bluntness is universal.” Big Guns smiled, albeit only slightly. “Well, I guess I don’t have anything better to do. Might as well give it a shot, right?”
“That's the spirit. Now I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about Minotaurs, especially with all the Gryphons around. You should know it’s not all true.”
“I actually met a nice cow a while back who told me a little. It took a while to convince her I used to be . . . well, you know.”
“Ah, well then, let's head into Ponyville, and Iron Will will buy you a cup of coffee as we try and tie up everything you need to know.”
“You think we could make it cocoa instead? I’ve had enough of the hard drinks for a while.” He chuckled nervously as he ran his fingers through his root-like mane. That, and Hammer Strike forbade me from getting drunk or hopped up. It’s a long story.”
“Very well. You can tell Iron Will all about it when we get there.”
“I guess so.” Big Guns blushed as the two made their way towards the gate.
“We can pick up some horn polish while we’re in town, too. You could use a good grinding.”
“Wait, what?”
Iron Will chuckled. “You’ll see.”
Vital Spark sighed as he looked over each of the instruments, and sampled the bows to test how they sounded in combination with one another. “This is really hard. I’ve never actually shopped for a violin here before, and they all sound great. I just don’t know if I’m supposed to find one that tunes to my magical aura or something else.” He sighed as he put them back gently. “Maybe I should ask for some help from a manager or something. Then again, maybe just one more.”
Vital’s horn glowed yet again as he levitated a shiny redwood polished violin and a matching bow. “Why is it that red always draws me closer?” He chuckled as he tuned up the violin by ear, then ran through a basic fiddling tune from earth, starting off with the chicken reel, before shifting to a few other old classics from back home. His playing was a bit on the slow side at first, but as he got the rhythm of it, he let the notes fly from his horn to the fiddle, and let it rip with a laugh.
A few notes in another fiddle joined in the music, easily matching his playing, before grabbing onto the rhythm, and carrying it into a quick light tune, then ending with a flourish of notes and a triumphant chord.
Vital Spark turned in surprise, and nearly dropped the precious cargo out of shock when he saw the Pony’s face and mane. They were a dead ringer for Octavia, right down to the eyelashes and the upturn of her muzzle, but her fur was a bright yellow, and her mane a dark blue. “Oc . . . tavia?”
“Oh, y’all know my sister?” the mare said in a thick southern accent.
Vital Spark deadpanned. “Twins?”
“Eeyup.”
“Apple Family?”
“Eeyup.”
“And Octavia didn’t mention you, because she still feels guilty about what happened when she first left to start her career?”
“That’s Octy, alright.”
Vital Spark grinned. “The name’s Vital Spark. Pleased to meet you.” He extended a hoof. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
She blushed. “Aww shucks. T’wern’t nothin’. Name’s Fiddlesticks.” She bumped his hoof with her own.
“Pleasure to meet you. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have enough time to help a Unicorn pick a new violin, would you? It’s the first time I’ve actually purchased one for myself before. My last one . . . well, it’s complicated. You know how things can get in the Everfree.”
“Well now, anything in particular you're looking for?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I want to get some great sound and quality materials, but my last instrument was, well, let’s just say it’s pretty much blown away by just about every single one here. I know how to play ‘em, just not necessarily how to pick the one that fits me, you know what I mean?”
She nodded “Well then, what's your price range?” she asked.
“Uh, would you believe me if I said Hammer Strike wants to foot the bill?”
“Ah. So you're one of them Ponies up at New Unity Cousin Applejack’s doin’ business with?”
“Well, not directly, but I do love her baked goods. Those apple fritters are practically irresistible. My mouth's watering just thinking about them.”
“Should be. Family’s been perfecting that recipe for two hundred and seventy years.”
“Well, you and your family sure know how to do ‘em up right,” he said with a forced twang.
“Anyway, most Ponies would tell you to go for the fanciest fiddle they got, but that's just a lot of work. Expensive wood means it’ll need a lot of polishin’ and extra care. You seem like you’d appreciate something more sturdy, I expect.”
“Considering this is Ponyville, and I’m living at New Unity with Pensword, Hammer Strike, and Grif? Yeah, I’d say I need something sturdy.”
“Well, this may sound a little biased,” Fiddlesticks said in a conspiratorial whisper, “but you won’t find quality like the apple wood fiddles they got.”
“You actually let them do that to your trees?”
“We do sell applewood when it’s available, from trees that get knocked down or stopped producing apples. It lets us clear the deadwood for new trees, and the wood keeps being useful.”
“And would the fine lady happen to know where I might find such a fiddle to try?”
She moved down the aisle, before selecting a fiddle and offering it to him. The wood was smooth and heavily varnished with a darker red stain, almost like an apple skin. The surface had been carefully polished and maintained, and its F holes ended in a familiar scrawl. The edges of the violin were carved with intricate celtic runes, which had also been carved into the bridge and along the violin’s neck, scroll, and pegs.
“It’s beautiful,” Vital Spark practically gushed as his eyes widened. “And it fits my family history, too!” He grinned.
“Give it a try,” Fiddlesticks encouraged.
Vital Spark took the instrument and began to play a haunting melody, slow and sweet, before gradually increasing tempo and intensity. As he did so, his magic poured into the runes, and they began to light up, flowing like water across the designs. The further it spread, the less the sound of the music came to mind, and the closer he came to sights and smells. He sailed over the misty moors of Ireland, soared to the highest cliffs, dashed across the waves with the sea foam, danced among the cairns and the fairy rings with the fair folk. Then he was in a bar fight to protect a lady’s honor, then a race down the lane and across the meadows. Finally, it ended in a dance and a jig with the fair maiden, after winning her hand, and laughing all the while. Her fiery hair blazed across her shoulders, its yellow and red streaks shining in the sunlight. Her cyan eyes twinkled in merriment as she leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. Her voice echoed in his mind as the last chord struck, and he ended with a start as he realized he was picturing Sunset Shimmer. His cheeks flushed violently, and the magic flow cut off from his horn.
Fiddlesticks dove, and caught the precious cargo, before the catastrophe that was gravity could finish its deadly work. “You okay?” she asked as she lifted the fiddle.
“I . . . I’m sorry. Just . . . sorry.” Vital took some deep calming breaths. “That . . . was intense.”
“You got something on your chest you need to let off?”
“I just never experienced something like that before. It was like I was somewhere else, instead of playing. Do you get that when you play your fiddle?”
“The best music comes from inside you.” Fiddlesticks shrugged. “It resonates with your heart.”
“My heart?”
“Fleshy pulpy thing? Pumps blood?”
“I was thinking of the metaphorical type, but, uh, yeah. That . . . kinda has some ramifications I really don’t want to consider right now.” A bead of sweat formed on the side of his brow.
“Anyway, if you like that fiddle, I think you should go for it. It suits you well.”
“I, uh . . . thanks. I think I will.” He took a deep breath to try to calm down. He clearly had some things he needed to work out with Clover, or maybe Zecora. “Mind carrying it to the checkout for me? I’m not sure I trust my magic right now.”
“Okay.” Fiddlesticks nodded.
As Vital Spark made the arrangements for the payment, and the cashier got the case and accessories to go with the purchase, an idea struck. “Say, Fiddlesticks, if you’re not too busy this Thursday, why don’t you come on down to the orchestra practice? If Octavia’s still struggling with guilt, I’m guessing the best way to help her overcome it is to just visit.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The mare nodded.
“Great! I’ll see you there. The orchestra meets at around seven.” He smiled as he slung the new violin case over his back, and secured it. “And thanks again, Fiddlesticks. I really appreciate the help. I’ll tell Applejack you say hi the next time I see her.”
”Until next time.” Fiddlesticks waved a hoof, before she cantered out the door.
Hammer Strike stood patiently in a clearing just outside of New Unity. He’d made sure to clear the area of workers, so they could practice in peace, without risking anypony’s existence. Pensword was making some fairly good progress, all things considered. Another week or two, and he could potentially let Pensword work on practicing alone, which would finally lead him towards the recovery of his field.
Pensword walked from behind a tree, looking over the same chapter one last time. He flicked an ear to show he’d heard Hammer Strike, and spoke without looking up. “I have light paperwork at the moment, so I took the morning off to read again out here till lesson time.”
“Good. It’ll be easier to teach this if you’ve at least read on it.”
“I have been told I have to memorize the fifth chapter, and I can only get half of it to memory before I start mixing things up,” he replied grumpily. “I am doing the best I can, but I doubt I will ever commit this to memory.”
“You don’t need to have it down to a tee. So long as you fully understand it, it’ll work,” Hammer Strike replied as he started pulling out a few crystals.
“Understood. So, what are today’s crystals going to be?” A slight thrill of pleasure went through him as he realized Hammer Strike had yet to address him by his military rank. Perhaps he was making progress, after all.
“Today, I’m going to be teaching you how to safely release aspects from a crystal form to what they originally were,” Hammer Strike said as he held a dark grey, almost black gem up. “Name the aspect.”
“Entropy?” Pensword asked.
“Correct.” Hammer Strike put the crystal down, and pulled out a yellow gem.
“No, order is white,” Pensword muttered. “Light? What was it? What was it called?” he slapped a wing to cover his eyes. “LUX! Like Questor tales.”
“Close due to color, but try to feel the aspect.”
Pensword quickly found the tingly part of his mind Grif had helped him locate in previous lessons, and pushed forward to feel the crystal, doing his best to understand its nature. He could almost feel the the currents shifting around the gemstone.
“Air?” he finally asked. “Is it air?”
Hammer Strike smiled. “Correct. Now this one was mentioned, but I don’t expect you to get it right at this stage,” he commented as he pulled out a purple gem. The feeling was everchanging, a flow that would fluctuate and shift at every moment.
“Chaos,” Pensword responded quickly as he thought of Discord.
“Incorrect,” Hammer Strike replied just as quickly, before pulling out a black gem. The energy around it distorted in an almost angry fashion, lashing out, and then calming down in an instant. “This is chaos, a stronger form of entropy,” he explained, before pulling out the purple gem once more. “This is Praecantatio. In Equish, it translates to magic.”
“Okay, Purple. Twilight is purple, and she’s the element of magic. That should be simple to remember,” Pensword muttered. “Did you take it from Twilight? Because that makes me wonder if a Pony’s magic would stay purple or match their coat color.”
“No, each aspect seems to form a color of choice, and sticks to it, no matter the source. Certain colors make sense to the mind, but, for all I know, visually, it can change between forms of creation, when the actual aspect of it suddenly starts existing.”
“Okay. . .. I definitely don’t understand what you just said about aspects suddenly existing between forms of creation. I am guessing that is for another lesson?”
“No, no, just a theory. Now, let’s start with the basics. Can you form an air crystal?”
“Uh.” Pensword gulped, and closed his eyes to lessen his nerves as he focused on the air around him, and drew it towards a wing tip. He could feel the air moving along the feathers, before a small crystal the diameter of a quarter, and the length of his hoof solidified. He quickly snapped his wing around to cradle it, before it had the chance to fall. “Like that?” he asked. Then his eyes widened as he took in the full size of the crystal. “Woah. That was a little bigger then I wanted.”
“Yeah, that happens sometimes with beginners. Don’t worry about it. you’ll refine size and amount the longer you practice. Now, when you feel the aspect, you should be able to note that it almost feels like it has a sort of . . . shell surrounding it, I guess you could say. You can direct the flow of the aspect, just like you would normally, by tapping into the gem, just as you did to form the crystal. Only, this time, you need to direct the energy to disperse, rather than collect. Now, remember, you need to do this slowly, or it could result in an aspectual shift, which is incredibly harmful.”
“I remember reading the report Twilight wrote on her witnessing of the explosion.” Pensword gulped, and slowly let a breath, before extending his senses to his creation. This time, he he decided to watch the process as he worked. He felt the power within the crystal, and slowly pierced the metaphorical shell. A small crack sounded from the crystal, and Pensword felt the energy slowly bleed out from the crystal. It traveled out over his wing, then over the top of his head, and down his spine, before trickling off his tail and the feather tips on his other wing. He let it speed up a tiny bit, so it was a constant stream, and not the steady drip from before. “Woah. This feels kind of funny.”
“It will for a while. You’re displacing an aspect around you, rather than to a single point. Now, we’re going to practice this with a few more aspects, and if I feel you’re doing fine, you can start practice outside of these lessons.”
Pensword waited for the Crystal to vanish, before speaking. “Okay. I’m ready for the next one. I guess, well, if you don’t mind my asking, when do we work on Spirit? I understand if we can’t for a while, but I’d like to know.”
“We’ll work with compound aspects much later,” Hammer Strike said with a flat expression. They’re incredibly dangerous, and highly volatile. You have to master these basic principles first. I’ll let you know when you’re ready to graduate to compounding aspects.”
Pensword sighed. He’d expected the answer, but he was still disappointed. “Okay, so what is the next aspect you want?”
Grif smiled as he held one of his daughters on each wing, while the cubs looked curiously at the timber wolves that panted happily around them. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the mixtures of confusion, fascination, and surprise that played across their faces whenever they’d lean too close, and a wolf would gently lick them.
“They’d better not get them too sticky, Grif. I already had to bathe them once today,” Shrial said with a playful smirk.
“You're the one who said it was a good idea to show them the pack while they’re young.”
“And wouldn’t you say I was right? Just look at how Sylvio treats them.”
“Of course,” Grif said as he rubbed the smooth timberwolf’s shell-like wooden plates. “Still, dogs lick to show affection, and, unfortunately, timberwolves lick tree sap, instead of slobber.”
“That would explain the CMC’s aversion. I believe one of them wanted to try timberwolf training, or riding, or something like that, but once Sylvio went to say hello, they ran away screaming.”
“They have a . . . certain history with tree sap.” Grif chuckled. He watched Athena attempt to swat at one of the timberwolves. Fortunately, her tiny talons were unable to do any real damage. “Well aren't you the brave one,” he cooed.
“She takes after her father that way.”
“Her father didn’t lead an army against impossible odds to a fortress no one was quite sure existed, and win, did he?” Grif chuckled. “You never do yourself enough credit.”
“You do realize Hammer Strike did all the work there, right?”
“Not from what the reports say. You seem to have been shrouded in a fine red mist of your own, madam Red Valkyrie.”
“That was for a different mission.” She blushed as she looked away. “Grif!”
“Still, take pride in yourself, Shrial. These girls have bravery on both sides, and a mother who could probably slay a mountain, if she was motivated.”
“Mmm.” She smiled dreamily. “Time for feeding again.” She kissed him. “Mind rounding the girls up?”
“What do you mean, rou-?” It was then he noticed his wings were currently devoid of weight as the two giggling cubs clung to two different timberwolves running in two different locations. “When did they do that?”
“When did you slip into bullet time?”
“I didn’t.” Grif shrugged. “This shouldn’t take long.” Somewhere in an astral plane, Irony chuckled cruelly as she watched the father trying to round up both cubs over the next hour.
A ray of moonlight shone down onto the balcony outside Luna’s quarters. All was still and quiet as the shadows of the night wrapped the world in its calming blanket. The hour was late, and all would be asleep. None were there to witness the strange event as the stars seemed almost to move of their own free will, and slowly float down the moonbeam to the balcony below. As each touched the stone, they joined one to another, first forming a hoof, then a leg, and repeating the process until they joined to form the barrel, the tail, the mane, the head, and, at last, the royal torc. With one final flash of light, Princess Luna stood whole and healthy beneath her charge. She sighed in relief, and allowed herself a brief smile as she took in her beautiful night. It had been so long since she had been able to walk among the stars. It was a most welcome respite indeed.
“Took you awhile,” Hammer Strike commented suddenly.
Luna jumped, and let out a surprised whinny. When she calmed down, she took a deep breath, and turned to him. “Greetings, Lord Hammer Strike.”
“So, I have just a few questions. And I’m almost positive you’re free, correct?”
“Yes,” Luna said, trying her best to smile confidently, . . . and failing miserably.
“Good,” Hammer Strike replied as he casually sat in a nearby chair. “So, you ran, which surprised me–.”
“I didn’t run. I made a tactical retreat,” Luna protested.
“Most of the time, tactical retreats are considered smart moves, Luna. This isn’t one of those times.” Hammer Strike almost grinned, before he calmed himself. “This was most certainly not one of those times.”
“You caught me unprepared. I couldn’t face you after getting captured like that.”
“Well, you’re facing me now.” This time, Hammer Strike did grin. “And we have a lot to talk about. I mean, I suppose something must be done, but I’m just thinking on what it’ll be.”
“I’m in trouble, aren't I?” Luna asked with a sigh.
“You wouldn’t have been, if you didn’t run. Celestia came forward, and accepted her fate, though part of me is unsure on if she accepted it, or realized how much worse it would have been if she ran, too. I have plans for her, but the brunt of it falls to you.”
Luna bowed her head.
“We can’t do sparring. I’m sure that’d be too much fun, even after a good week of it. I could always have you around New Unity with something to do,” he mused. “What about some light weapon training? Something you’re not use to, I think.” The grin turned into a vicious sneer as the idea dawned. “Yes, a rapier.”
“A rapier?” Luna balked. “But they're so light, and they break so easily. There would be no way I could swing it, and not shatter it.”
“Exactly. So we’re going to keep at it, day in, and day out, until you can use it. Yes. That sounds perfect.”
Luna stood there with her jaw hanging open, unable to reply.
“We start tomorrow. And by tomorrow, I mean the second it hits midnight.” Hammer Strike allowed himself another grin.
“But it’s eleven fifty five!”
He chuckled. “I know.”