Magic, for Twilight, had always been a subject near and dear to her heart. While it was her talent, a talent did not necessarily make it one’s passion. But for her, it was. Magic was something she pursued with every fibre of her being. There was always something to learn, or some new height to reach. And as she had grown from a filly into a mare, and reached the edge of known knowledge, she had discovered that you could forge forth and advanced the field one step at a time. Yet, even at its extremes, the true core of magic had its root in the fundamental basics. Twilight found herself reminiscing as she watched Thistle’s siblings struggle with the same mistakes she had made when she was their age.
Stratus, Dew Drop and Mill Prance – from eldest to youngest – were the trio of unicorn foals Thistle had spoke of. Their individual issues were unique, despite their similar age and closeness. When they heard Princess Twilight Sparkle would be giving them magic lesson, they all reacted the same way: enthusiastically. At first they had been like babbling brooks of excitement, but as time passed, they focused on their magic.
For Stratus, the cream-white filly with a fluffy blue mane, it had been a matter of power. She was timid; nervous about putting power into a spell. Her technique was satisfactory, and her concentration almost perfect, but without power, only the most masterful mages could hope to hold together a spell and not let it decay into a lesser state. Stratus’s hesitance was enough that Twilight suspected there was something more to the aversion. Perhaps there had been an accident which she had yet to mentally overcome. If it was, nopony else might know about it and Stratus could be afraid or embarrassed to volunteer anything.
Mill Prance, or Milly as they called her, suffered in the area Stratus excelled most in: concentration and maintaining focus. Milly’s spells were almost perfect... at first. Unaware, her spells would always destabilize. She got too caught up in watching what she did to focus on what she was doing. It wasn’t a particularly rare problem for a young unicorn to have, especially as the youngest of the three, and it was a problem that was simple enough to fix. With a few gentle reminders now and again, Milly’s concentration greatly improved. Or, at least, the same spell was a whole lot less interesting the twentieth time.
And then there was Dew Drop.
Twilight’s shield was quick to catch the bolt of magic before it could blast the picture frame. She sighed, and turned back to Dew. The last thing the family needed was property damage at her encouragement.
“Do you know what went wrong, Dew?” Twilight asked.
He cocked his head. “I think...” He held the position for a second, before shrugging. “I got nothing.” The colt was a pale shade of blue, certainly not white or grey, but pale all the same.
Twilight suppressed a sigh. “Then what did you feel when you lost control of the spell?” She knew exactly what went wrong, but he needed to fully understand before he could correct it properly.
“Well, it felt like it was going to drop it. So I tried to fix it like you told me...”
The spell Twilight had them practicing was telekinesis: one of the first spells most any unicorns learn. All three of them had indignantly protested that they knew how, even Stratus, but Twilight wasn’t looking for them to lift a book, or a small rock. Practice items for foals just starting out had one thing in common: they were rigid and light. So naturally, Twilight had gone for the exact opposite by selecting something that was hard to lift and relatively dense: water. In theory, it would also be difficult for them to cause unintended damage, though Dew was trying his best to turn that idea on its head.
Water was a fluid, and to levitate a fluid, a telekinetic field had to be consistent. Focusing on a couple points, like a unicorn could with something solid, would only cause the water to fall to the floor. The trio had quickly learned how difficult it was mere seconds after trying it for the first time. Each of them had had varying levels of success.
“I told you to fix it by focusing on maintaining an even field,” Twilight explained, “not by ramping up the power. You see, the telekinetic field is a highly reactive–” It was an abrupt realization which stopped her: her audience wouldn’t understand a technical explanation.
“Neeerrd,” Thistle hummed, picking up on the change. He had busied himself by helping his youngest sister, Cinder, build a tower from soft pastel coloured blocks while Twilight gave the trio the lesson. She was an adorable thing, just barely old enough to walk with coordination.
Without even looking, Twilight drew up a ball of water and propelled it towards him. A strangled cry and Cinder’s delighted giggle let Twilight know she had been right on the mark. “Picture a seesaw. If you want to balance it, you put identical weights on either end. Similarly, a magical field should also be balanced. Now, if the seesaw has weights on either end which aren’t identical, it will lean one way or the other.” She paused briefly to let him think it over. “There are two ways to balance it. You can either add more weight to the lighter end, or take off weight from the heavier end. But keep in mind, if you add too much weight, the seesaw will break.” She didn’t want to give him the answer in its entirety, so she waited for him to connect the dots.
She could just see the moment when the realization struck. “So, I’m only putting weight on?”
“If we’re still referring to the analogy, yes,” she confirmed. “Maintaining an equal field isn’t just about strengthening weak points, but also relaxing points which are too strong . If you only focus on increasing power, you’re going to lose control. And control always comes before power. Always. Many of the most complex spells that you can find are so complex, not because you need a huge amount of power, but because they require control beyond what many unicorns are capable of.”
Dew turned thoughtful, even humming idly to himself.
“Princess?” Stratus asked, while her brother was distracted.
She turned. “Yes, Stratus?”
“So you’re really good with magic and everything, right?”
“Yes, but I still feel anypony can accomplish what I can with enough practice.”
“I don’t think that is what she means,” Row Moon said, smiling fondly. He sat on the couch alongside his wife, and Thistle’s mother-in-law, Willow. The navy blue stallion had aged since Twilight had last saw him. What once was a jet black mane had started to grey, but it was still more pepper than salt. Other than that, he had grown a little leaner, but still Thistle’s stature. The two were obviously related at a glance.
“Stratus, sweetie,” Willow said softly, “just ask her.” Willow was a grey-white mare with a pale green mane. She leaned against her husband’s shoulder, eyes half closed. That she looked exhausted and a little ruffled was understandable; she was very very pregnant with twins.
Stratus shuffled her hooves. “I mean, you must be really good at casting spells. Could you show us how it’s done?”
“Stratus...” Willow chided gently.
She blushed and ducked her head. “It sounds selfish though.” Her mother just raised an eyebrow. “Um, could you show us some tricks?”
Twilight chuckled, now understanding. “I’d be happy to show you where practice can lead you. Just give me a little space.”
The three foals quickly cleared a circle, eager to see Twilight at work, while Row Moon and Willow pulled themselves upright on the sofa. Thistle murmured something to Cinder, who quickly latched onto the top of his head so she could get a better view. Satisfied with her audience’s arrangement, Twilight lit her horn.
Practice, patience and study always paid off with magic, as the ceilings you could reach grew. The very first time Twilight had lifted a ball of water, it had all been splashes, dropped water, and a hole in a bedsheet when she had made the very same mistake Dew had. But with years of practice, she could do more.
So much more.
Twilight drew water from a bucket in a stream, leading it through the air until a smooth ring rotated about her. It was so very nearly flawless, but she wasn’t done there. Two smaller rings split off from the first, floating parallel to each other. Then, she split the rings apart. Carving water was even more difficult than simply lifting it in simple shapes, but she could manage something simple. Each of the three rings became sea serpents, which weaved and twisted about the others as they spun about her, before breaking free around the room. They danced about, forming figure eights, celtic knots and other winding shapes before she froze them dead in the air. To the watchers, they were statues, with barely even a fluctuation in Twilight’s field. After a few more seconds, they jumped into motion, twisting ever so tightly until became one. Then they surged backed into the bucket at a furious rate, not producing so much as a splash.
Twilight took several quick deep breaths as she finished. Though seemingly simple compared to more elaborate spectacles such as illusions, Twilight felt that using water would be the best way to get the point across considering they had just been using it themselves. What she wasn’t expecting was the flabbergasted looks of Thistle’s family. “Oh... I...”
With a yank on his ears, Cinder sent Thistle stumbling forward. He barely managed to stop himself from headbutting Twilight’s chest, but not from placing his forehead against it, letting Cinder meet Twilight’s eyes. “Again, again!” she cried, hugging Twilight’s muzzle with her short forelegs.
Row Moon came a second later, and pulled Cinder away by the scruff of her neck. She reached longingly for Twilight, whimpering longingly, before her hooves found the floor. Thistle hurriedly distanced himself, his ears burning.
“Something the matter, Thistle?” a voice asked teasingly from the hall. He blushed even brighter at the question.
“Ventum, I swear...” he growled.
The pink filly, more of a teenager, shrugged her shoulders. “Well, if that’s–”
“Ventum,” Willow cautioned her sternly.
She furrowed her brow and sighed. “Fine.” She grumbled audibly to herself as she continued down the hall and out of site.
Twilight cocked her head; feeling out of the loop. “Umm... Did something happen?”
“I– Yeah,” Thistle admitted. He ran a hoof through his mane. “I may have teased her when she brought her coltfriend over to meet us.”
“Turned right red like a cherry, she did,” Row added.
“As if you are any better,” Willow chimed in, accusatorily. “The pair of you had her right worked up.”
“I’ll make it up to her, mom, don’t worry,” Thistle said.
“You had best. You went too far this time.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m trying to get her a pair of tickets to the Coloratura concert coming up.”
A look of surprise crossed Willow’s face before she smiled. “She’ll forgive you for just about anything if you manage that.”
Though she could have spoken up about knowing Coloratura, Twilight felt that perhaps she had given enough. More charity after the magic lessons, donuts, and taking care of the trio’s latest problem might start to seem insulting. Maybe if Thistle couldn’t find tickets she would bring it up.
“Still, I think we are forgetting something,” Willow continued. She looked Twilight in the eye. “That was absolutely marvelous, Princess.”
A slight blush coloured Twilight’s cheeks; she had never been good at taking praise.
“Princess!” Cinder cried in agreement.
A bouncing wheat-gold blob suddenly blurred into Twilight’s view. “That was absolutely, incredibly awesome,” Milly shouted as she pranced around Twilight. The other two foals vocally agreed, and Twilight soon found herself in the center of the little circle as Stratus and Dew joined in with Milly’s enthusiastic display. Twilight shot Row and Willow a pleading glance that sent both of them into laughter.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Row Moon said, once he had finally calmed down. “Twilight has to leave in a moment, and I need to speak with her about your spell from yesterday.” The three begrudgingly stopped with disappointed murmurs to let their father speak.
The trio’s spell had turned out to be far worse than a wayward come-to-life spell like Twilight had expected. Instead of animating the worn barbecue lighter, they had summoned and bound a fire elemental to it instead. The difference was at least an order of magnitude more dangerous.
“What is it?” Twilight asked.
“You said to keep feeding it charcol...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that really all we can do?”
“Without being properly trained to banish it, there isn’t anything that wouldn’t be riskier.” Elementals were raw primordial beings, practically forces of nature. Even as an alicorn, Twilight wouldn’t stand a chance in a contest of raw strength without some deciding factor, like being bound to a lighter. Even then, it would be closer to a toss-up than she dared risk. To anger an elemental was to gamble with your life, while appeasement was usually the best option to placate them and keep them from burning anything valuable.
“Can’t you get rid of it?” Row asked.
“Here, not safely. Lady Rosa will be over as soon as I can send her –” she hoped, “– and she can bring it back to the castle where we can properly deal with it.” It was a gamble, and Rosa might not be thrilled about such and interruption, but nopony was better suited for the task. Being fireproof, even if partly, would certainly give her a leg up.
“Lady?” Willow exclaimed. “You never mentioned anything about that!”
“Oh... I –,” Twilight rubbed one leg against the other. “It’s not the most polite way of putting it, but Rosa... is not what ‘lady’ would suggest. She’d probably be more bothered if you treated like one, than if you didn’t”
“Still...”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Willow. Just as soon as I can find her, she can pop in, gather up the elemental and get it back to the castle. Besides, she probably won’t want to linger considering what she’s dealing with.”
→ ↔ ←
Unfortunately, Lady Rosa had not been in the first place Twilight checked – the forge – or the second, or the third. It took several sets of directions from three different ponies to find Rosa, and by that time, Twilight was late for her meeting with Blueblood. She made up some of the lost time at a gallop through the halls, even if it wasn’t the most regal way to travel. She slowed as she neared the last corner to where she and Blueblood were supposed to meet, and took a moment to straighten her mane and catch her breath. The last thing she needed was a snide comment about her looks from Blueblood. When her breathing was calm and easy, she stepped around the corner.
And found Blueblood not even a pace in front of her.
“You know,” he began, before Twilight could curse her timing, “I do understand wanting to look presentable, but it’s best to refrain from doing so if it is at the cost of being late. Being late is disrespectful to the other party rather than just embarrassing to yourself.”
It was telling that even though he had just started, he had already moved onto insults thinly veiled as advice. “Well, you have my apologies,” she answered, “but I was going to be late whether I stopped for a moment or not.”
“Doing what?” he asked. “Not lost in a book, I hope.”
It was all Twilight could manage to answer politely. “I had to speak with Lady Rosa. Three foals in the city managed to summon and bind a fire elemental to a lighter. I wasn’t about to risk transporting it to the castle when she was better suited for it than me.” Rosa had actually been delighted when Twilight requested her help, and Vert was all too eager to assist.
From Blueblood’s wide eyes, he obviously hadn’t been expecting that reason. He rocked his head slowly as he thought it over. “Well... Credit where credit is due; that is most definitely a good reason for being late. I trust you spoke to the foals as well?”
She nodded. “A quick magic lesson, otherwise, they’d probably summon another before the week was out.”
“Good, I approve,” he said. He ran a hoof through his mane. “Now seeing how we both are quite busy, perhaps it would be best to get straight to the point.”
“Oh? Oh!” Twilight exclaimed when she realized what he meant. “So are you finally going to tell me what you find wrong with my proposal?”
“Of course. You honored your end of the agreement, so I see no reason to deny you any further.”
“What about those few minutes?” she asked. “I thought you told me I had to wait.”
“Because,” he began, pointedly, “I predict by the time you actually let me get to the point, those few minutes will have already passed.”
Twilight winced . “Right, I’ll be quiet now.”
He didn’t start immediately, letting silence grow for a few more seconds. “The problem with your proposal is that... As far as I understand, the intent differs from the actual results it will produce.”
“And what would my intent be?”
“That is a question I hope you can answer. Making assumptions based on what other ponies tell you is a poor way to understand a pony.”
“No, please, tell me.” Twilight persited. “Because ever since I became a princess, I’ve been getting real tired of playing word games, ponies speaking for me, and being baited for specific answers.”
“Very well, but I’m sad to say, word games will probably remain a distinct part of being a princess. Or they will be until such a time where you no longer have the power and influence to make changes.”
Twilight just tapped her hoof in impatience, refusing to acknowledge what she knew to be true.
“You, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Blueblood said, pointing with a hoof, “decided to improve the current state of magic education within Equestria with an education reform.”
That was it? “That’s it?”
“Yes, why?”
“Honestly, I was expecting you to say more.”
Blueblood chuckled. “Perhaps you were thinking I’d confuse intent with what caused you to write it. You're not the kind of pony to design a bill with malice or ill-will as the root of its intent. You genuinely want to help ponies.”
There was one thing which stopped Twilight from taking the compliment with a smile, the “however” that just hovered at the edge of what he was saying. “But there is something more, isn’t there.”
He nodded. “It is a matter of experience, not being able to understand the effect your bill would have on ponies, and not fully grasping how to make your intent your reality. Those are qualities you sorely lack, qualities which would be ideal if you were trying to pursue this approach.”
Again, he returned to the near-insults to make his points. “What would you suggest then? I spent years as Celestia’s student, some in her school for gifted unicorns, many more in and around politics of Canterlot, and by this point I’ve travelled to many parts of Equestria and seen so much.”
“Being able to lead and able to govern are two very different things. As a pony, you are able to take charge, make intelligent decisions and resolve conflict. Those are all things which are great for a leader to have, yet what experience do you have governing?”
“During my lessons with Celestia, I–” Twilight bit back a scream of frustration as he waved a hoof to cut her off.
“Celestia is a fine teacher, and an amazing leader, but she is terrible at governing without experience.”
“How can you say that!” Twilight exclaimed. “She’s been ruling Equestria for well over a thousand years, at least!”
“Because, experience does not make one innately good at something, it just makes one experienced at it,” Blueblood said. “Celestia has been ruling Equestria for well over a thousand years, just as you said. She is an experienced ruler. However, she has made more than a thousand years worth of errors, mistakes and missteps in that time. At the extreme, there is at least one conflict she is partly responsible for.
“Yet,” he continued, “She is a smart mare and, critically, she knows how to learn from her mistakes. She may be a wise ruler now, but it was only because she had the opportunity. Without it, she would do no better than anypony else.”
“But she is an excellent teacher, Blueblood.”
“What did she teach you?”
“Everything I could possibly think of.” She remembered her friendship lessons. “Or at least she tried.”
“Everything... I don’t think that’s true, not for a minute. She might have taught you much for the role she was grooming you for, but governance... If she did, she taught it poorly.”
“But she did teach me about governance. She taught me a great deal about how it functions, how bills are signed into law, how–”
Once more, Blueblood interrupted. “So she taught you about governance, not how to govern.”
“I disa–”
Again. “Does reading a book on how to fly make a pegasus a wonderbolt? Does being told how to cast a spell make a unicorn Starswirl the Bearded? Theory will only take you so far.”
“Since you seem to know so much,” Twilight asked with some bite, “what would you have done different?”
“I would have seen you attached as an assistant through various departments of government, and followed through by sending you along to the places their governance reaches to live as the residents do. Cycle through every couple of weeks, and at the end of several months, you would have a better understanding, and appreciation for governance, along with experience and how it affects the ponies it touches. Couple that with case studies, and broader lessons on Equestria, demographics and population”
Twilight couldn’t find a rebuttal which would stand. “That... Actually would have been a good idea.”
“It’s not as though I’m an unthinking unfeeling machine, princess.”
“I never said that.”
“‘So then I’m a boorish oaf?”
That would be a little more on the mark, though still not polite to say. But the fact he was putting words into her mouth was another thing entirely. “What? I didn’t...”
“It is certainly something, because what is obvious is you don’t particularly like me.” He didn’t give her any time to formulate to answer. “Please understand, Twilight, if I have seemed hostile to you over the past few days, it has nothing... Nothing, to do with who you as a pony are. It’s because of what you, as a princess, are capable of doing with your power when you have so very very little experience wielding it in this role. If I have to be abrupt, harsh and unsupportive in the most absolute sense, I will, if only to prevent you from ruining something which would take years to mend.”
His explanation would explain a lot, but something about didn’t quite sit right with Twilight. Maybe it was from all her time around Applejack, but it felt as though there was something more he wasn’t saying. Just what, however, she wasn’t sure. It could just as easily have been something he wasn’t saying as it could have all been a lie. Still she had to play the part of a placated princess if only to ease the tension between them. Maybe it was just that his personality wasn’t really one she particularly envied. He wore the trappings of his position like a suit, while she stumbled over the coattails.“You could stand to be a little more polite about it.”
“Well, perhaps you will have a shorter life in politics than you realize if that’s you feel. Now, regarding your reform, perhaps it would be easier to show you the problem. Do you have the bill with you?”
“You tore it up,” she deadpanned.
He held out his hoof. “And you put it back together, if rumors are not mistaken.”
She sighed, and reached for her saddlebags. But the proposal wasn’t there. She quickly ran through the morning in her head, and grew frustrated when she realized that she hadn’t opened her saddlebags anywhere. If she hadn’t taken it out anywhere, it meant that they were likely lying on her desk in her room. With a defeated sigh, she closed the bag, not even noticing the absence of Discord’s letter. “I... I think it’s back in my room,” she admitted. “I must have forgotten it there this morning.”
“I see. Well, perhaps it’s for the best,” Blueblood said. “When you find it, take some time and give it some thought before you come find me. I suspect you will hardly need my input in the end.”
Twilight narrowed her eyes. “What is with that? Why can’t you just tell me what you find wrong with it?”
“Because, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of all of this?”
“Do you mean to tell me this entire thing has been just a lesson?”
He snorted in amusement. “If you want to call this a lesson, by all means. I’m just trying to make a point, and you’ll better understand if you’re the one to reach it. If you’re looking for somepony to talk it over with, Luna is taking tea in the garden.
Well, at least it was better than last time they had parted. Twilight figured that she might even take his suggestion; she owed Luna a bit of a talking too if nothing else. “Thank you Blueblood, I’ll try to keep what you said in mind.”