//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 // Story: Altruism // by Ogopogo //------------------------------// Twilight sat and scowled at her teacup, refusing to meet Luna’s gaze. The prank had been the last thing on her mind when she had entered the gardens, until she noticed the laughter in Luna’s eyes. The very corner of Luna’s mouth quirked and trembled, even as they debated which variety of tea to have. It only got worse when Twilight noticed the two bat ponies standing guard similarly suppressing laughter. Even with their stony expressions, royal guards had their own little tells and breaks in discipline. “How about Rooibos?” Twilight suggested. “Celestia should have some stock from Zecora. She makes a wonderful blend which is nice with tea biscuits.” With Zecora’s almost encyclopedic knowledge of the plants of the Everfree, the zebra was capable of making and selecting better teas than anypony Twilight knew. Even Celestia, save for a few varieties of imported teas from the west, had to yield to Zecora in that respect.  “Oh that sounds lovely,” Luna said in a coy tone. She dumped the tea leaves into a pot, and followed them with boiling water. “How has your day been?” “Since we last spoke? Hmm... Well, this morning I was doing some research into ancient magic tomes, so I suppose I could continue that. Buuut, I seemed to have misplaced the tome I was studying.” Twilight sighed slowly. It wasn’t going to end until Luna got what she wanted, and she knew exactly which tome she meant. “Fine!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “You got me! Happy!” Luna’s half smile broke into a grin full of teeth. “Quite.” She threw her head back in laughter: loud, unrestrained laughter.“Oh by the stars!” she cried.  “You looked so worried, and then– then so angry!” One snicker escaped the leftmost guard, but if Luna heard it she chose to ignore it. Twilight could only grumble under her breath as Luna laughed. “You have my apologies, but it was simply too good an opportunity to pass.” “In retrospect, it was a good prank,” Twilight admitted. “But perhaps next time, could you not make me think dangerous spells had been stolen. You had me worried we had a crisis on our hooves.”  “Trust in me that I would push a prank of that nature no further,” Luna said. “Furthermore, were it truly a dire situation, I would handle it differently.” The words were a relief to Twilight, even though she knew in her heart that Luna would never go so far for a prank.“Tell me, what of Thistle? We’ve not seen hide nor hair of him since we departed. Was it too much for him?” “Thistle?” Twilight couldn’t help but giggle. “Knowing him, if you had asked, he would have gladly helped. Maybe thrown in some cheesy fake dialogue about his nefarious plot being foiled.” It was an easy role to cast him in in her mind’s eye. “As for where he went, I asked him to accompany me into the city.” She told Luna what they had done, and about the fire elemental.  Luna watched, nodding along, only interrupting to ask the odd question. By the time Twilight finished, they were both on their second cup of tea. “Considering he was reluctant to accompany me into the city, Thistle will probably show up for duty soon.” “Good, we had hoped to properly initiate him this night,” Luna said. “It wouldn’t be right for him to miss his own party. Still though, it does beg the question... You, dear Twilight Sparkle, seem to enjoy his presence a great deal. Perhaps I should start looking for somepony in the guard too...” The insinuation was clear, but Twilight wasn’t falling for it. As she opened her mouth to reply, a stroke of daring struck. “If being friends with a member of the opposite sex in the guard has to have romantic inclinations, than what does that say about you and most of the Lunar Guard? What role do they really serve?” The comment caught Luna by surprise, and the two guards spared an incredulous glance back at Twilight. Then, Luna roared with laughter, pounding a hoof on the arm of her chair. “Well met Twilight. I would never have expected such a riposte out of you.” Just as quickly as it had struck, Twilight’s courage departed, and she blushed and ducked her head. “Still,” Luna continued, “if you wish to play that game, you must be able to hold your convictions.” “Umm... Yeah,” Twilight stammered. She quickly cast about for a new subject, and settled on one which had dominated her mind in recent days. “Luna, what do you think of Blueblood?”  “In what sense? What we talked about over breakfast yesterday?” She sighed. “I don’t know... A general sense. We met briefly today to discuss the education reform, and I came away not knowing what to make of it or him. One moment he seems to be harsh, overly critical and almost pig-headed, but the next he makes rational points, argues with sound logic, and gives vague compliments.” “I’m afraid I know little more than you,” Luna admitted. She swirled her teacup idly. “Even though this is my home, I know him in barely more than a professional capacity. Maybe as an acquaintance. We might eat the occasional meal together, or end up chatting as we both wait in a room, but he isn’t one to let ponies close. As far as I am aware, Celestia is the only one who can claim that.” “Huh,” she uttered. “What I can tell you is the tabloids make it seem like he is the next coming of Tirek, and that is laughably false. Though why my sister chose to make him a prince over somepony else, I do not know.” If it hadn’t been so quiet, Twilight would have sworn she misheard Luna. “Wait, what!” Twilight cried. “Celestia made him a prince!” She had always assumed that he had inherited the title. In fact, nearly every publication she had ever read seemed to hold that view as truth. The news shocked her almost senseless. Luna furrowed her eyebrows. “Why yes... In Equestria royalty aren’t born, they earn their position. I thought you knew this.” “I did, but I thought... What about Flurry Heart? Isn’t she a princess?” she demanded.  “Yes, technically of the Crystal Empire, not Equestria. Though I am sure with time and guidance she will come to inherit that mantle too.” She hesitated, then frowned. “Maybe that has changed in our absence too.” “But... I– Ughhh,” Twilight groaned; she buried her face into her hooves. “I don’t know what to make of it all.” “Then don’t make anything of it,” Luna said. She took a sip of her tea. “There is a time for hindsight, and there is a time for action. Blueblood may have been made a prince for some reason, but what matters now is that he is a prince and your peer.” “It’s... Difficult to seem him as one.” “Maybe that is your problem then. Perhaps you invalid his opinion or reasoning because of what you think of him or his actions, not the words themselves.” The words seemed like an echo of what Blueblood had said to her, albeit in a different manner from a different source. That the words seemed to sink in lent even more weight to Luna’s theory. “I guess...” “Setting aside that for the moment, did you end up reading the book I sent you?” It was an old magic book, nothing as striking as Starswirl’s work, but interesting all the same. Twilight couldn’t recall exactly when it had begun, but she and Luna had taken up correspondence over older magic. With Luna’s absence for a thousand years, she handled and controlled magic in a manner alien to how Twilight had been taught. Yet, a thousand years ago, magic had been taught in that manner. For Twilight it was a chance to look back; for Luna an opportunity to move forward. “Yes,” Twilight answered. “There’s a part I was wondering about, Diamond’s fifth theory: the one about the rate of heat decay for subset spells of the second order. I was working through a derivation of the formula and I ended on something similar to the modern version of it – Wrote’s version – but there were a few extra terms left over.” Luna nodded sagely “Diamond’s fifth theory took many years before it gained traction amongst the mages of my time. To them, the concept appeared correct, but there were complexities to it and flaws in related formulas which discouraged its use. Eventually the fifth theory was tentatively adopted, but for all but the most scholarly and well-versed, it was too difficult to understand.” Twilight reached into her saddlebags and brought out her notebook. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “There,” she said, passing the book to Luna. “The top one is the Wrote’s version, and the bottom the derivation from Diamond’s.” She was silent as she examined Twilight’s writing. “Would you happen to know the more general form of the formula?” Luna asked. It took a page turn to answer the question. Luna frowned. “Ah, yes, I was afraid of this.” “Of what?” “The main problem of Diamond’s theory was that it was ahead of its time and inaccessible to most. Wrote made his own version, the one you call the modern version, and he did so by taking Diamond’s formula removing normally negligible factors, and rearranging the equation to make it easier to work with. Now, Wrote also made a more general version, including some of what he had originally removed, but it was written from the less complex modern version.” Luna looked up from the notebook. “Do you have a quill?”  “Of course.” Luna scribelled an addition on a fresh page and showed Twilight. “I suspect this is the true general form of Wrote’s equation.” It took a quick read and a moment of comprehension to arrive at the same conclusion Luna had. What she had written was identical to Diamond’s fifth theory, save for one additional term, but in the format of Wrote’s equations. “That’s incredible! Do you know what this would do for magic!” “Precisely nothing,” Luna said. At Twilight’s evident disbelief, she continued. “Would we really be the first ponies to discover this if it took that much work to put together. “I– No... of course not.”  Luna closed the notebook and offered it back to Twilight. “In my time the path of the mage was a calling that few chose. Over time, however, more and more ponies found their calling learning magic. It would be a wondrous thing, except that in the pursuit the process has been diluted. Knowing how to cast spells has become the objective, not knowing why spells work as they do.” The true meaning of her words evaded Twilight. “I don’t quite follow.” She pointed to the notebook. “Why isn’t this the first equation ponies think of?” It wasn’t difficult to see why: there were too many terms, differentials, integrals and additional mathematical concepts involved for truly minor details. “Most ponies find it too complicated.” Luna nodded. “Instead of learning broadly how the theory works, ponies instead taught a different formula for each case. Simplified versions for each case. So instead of one general formula, they are taught many formulas as though they are unrelated to one another. I would not expect ponies to fully understand the true general form of Wrote’s entirely, but they should at least understand what it means.” “Are you saying that ponies should understand the more complex form?” She nodded more firmly. “Yes, they should.” “Playing devil’s advocate here... Most ponies have no need of the more complex form.” Luna tapped her chin with a hoof. “What is the saying I heard...” She brightened. “Ah. When all you have is a hammer, it is easy to see everything as a nail.” Twilight cocked her head.“I mean, I’ve heard the saying, but I don’t understand what hardware has to do with this.” “I didn’t either until the other day. But as an example, take teleportation... Define what it means.” The definition came easily to her. “Teleportation is the act of moving a living or nonliving object from one point to another.” “How many spells are there for teleportation?” “Well, the one I use moves me from point to point. It’s commonly known as blink teleportation.” “And is that the only way to teleport?” “Well, no, but...” A glimmer of realization struck her. “No, but it’s the only way most ponies think of teleporting.” “Indeed,” Luna said. “Consider another method of teleporting, such as the idea of folding space... Even if it is more theoretical at this point than reality. Its theorized advantage comes from the ability to teleport long distances with a minimal increase of energy needed. Yet, when it comes to teleporting long distances – a screw if you would – ponies can’t help but hammer away at it with blink teleportation. Developments are made not in making folding space teleportation possible, but making blink teleportation efficient enough to be applied over long distances.” “It’s not that I don’t think ponies shouldn’t be learning as much as magic as they can, but teleportation isn’t really a spell most ponies have a use for.” Twilight explained. “The same applies elsewhere. At any level above the most basic, magic is predominantly taught to produce results, not understand.” It was like with Thistle’s siblings. So eager to learn that they did not take the time to think. Ponies were wanting the ends without understanding the basics. “I see your point,” she admitted. “However, changing the curriculum too much may be something for a later date.” “Indeed. Now, I was intrigued by what you sent me in our exchange... Quantum mana hybridization was it?” “Yes, it’s a new theory a unicorn couple investigating the crystal empire are working on.” For any guard, whether they belonged to the Lunar, Solar, Archival, Municipal, or any of the other many divisions, all learned the neutral ‘guard stance’ they were so famous for. Were in not for their steady breath, and the gleam of awareness in their eyes, they could have been wax mannequins. Yet, as the two Lunar guards proceeded to listen to their charges’ discussion, the gleam was gradually replaced with a glazed stare. To them, Luna and Twilight might as well have been putting random words together and calling them sentences for all the sense they made.  → ↔ ← “No, no, no, no!” Twilight cried, her head swinging one way then the next as she looked through her room. She dropped the couch cushions and galloped to her bed to peer beneath it.  The meeting with Luna had brought some ideas – slight modifications – she wanted to add to the education reform. A brief trot through the castle had brought her back to her room, and the desk which she stored her work in. The only issue was, the education reform was not there. Nor was it in her bags, or set aside on another table. Short of tearing out the furnishings, there was nowhere in her room left to look. Perhaps a servant could have set it elsewhere, but there were too many problems for that theory to be possible. Every time Twilight ran through the day in her mind, she came back to the same answer: she had no notion what could have happened to the document.  The heavy pounding on the door interrupted her panic. Still, she didn’t stop looking. “Yes?” she called. “Princess Twilight Sparkle!” It was the bafflement in not recognizing the voice, not the declaration itself, which caused Twilight to pause. A stern looking batpony awaited her when Twilight opened the door, her deep moss coloured coat a stark contrast to her sharp silver eyes. The mare stiffened as she snapped a salute.  “We have not yet been introduced. I am Captain Rift of the Lunar Guard.” “Um... Good afternoon Captain Rift. Was there something I can help you with?” “Anything urgent planned?” “No, I... What is this about?” “The question, princess.” “Not really, but why–” “Then come with me.” Rift turned and started slowly, waiting for Twilight to catch up. “We have a problem.” Twilight spared her room one more glance, before summoning her bags and heading after Rift. “You’re being awfully brisk, captain.” She grunted noncommittally. “Private Thistle Down reported in a few minutes ago from his trip with you into the city. He brought with him a set of courier shoes.” Twilight scowled. She should have known he would try to investigate it further.  “I told him not to worry about her. It was an accident, not intentional.” Rift shook her head. “With all due respect Princess, you’re too trusting.” “I like to see the best in ponies.” “And it’s our job to see the worst,” she snapped back. “Those shoes Thistle brought in, princess, had traces of a fast acting wear spell on them; a very strong one. The courier is not responsible, as her magic did not match the residual signature, but the fact is somepony cast the spell so she would trip right as she neared you.” Twilight’s mind blanked, and then alarm bells started ringing as she mulled over the implications. “The education reform, somepony...” Rift nodded tersely. “The guard received a tip a few minutes ago from a reputable source. Your education reform will be the subject of a special evening edition of the Canterlot Chronicle.” “Will they give it back?” Twilight asked hopefully. The mare chuckled humorlessly. “Oh, they’ll give it back, just as long as it takes to make a copy to publish. To them, it’s easily worth any legal stonewalling they might have to do, or fines they have to pay. One way or another, everypony in Canterlot will have heard of it by the day’s end.” Had anyone asked when she had first written it, the news would have been disappointing. Sort of like spoiling a surprise for something which wasn’t polished to perfection. It was odd then, that after everything which had happened, she found the idea worrying. “Is there anything we can do?” “Damage control now, princess.” She hesitated. “The other appropriate parties are being informed as we speak at Princess Celestia’s request. Did you have anything planned for the next few hours?” “No... I...” “Good.” Rift said. She turned sharply down another hall, so quickly that Twilight had to trot to catch up. “Nothing to cancel then.” Twilight took a few quick breaths; Rift’s long gait was as effortless as she made it seem. Perhaps exercise would need to move up the list when she got back to Ponyville. “Who is going to be there?” “I suspect all royalty, Celestia’s secretary, the education minister and the press secretary. Naturally, myself and Private Thistle Down will be there, if only for a moment to explain what happened.” “Would you like me to teleport us there?” “No, we are close. Though, that is another matter I would like to speak with you about. Teleporting makes it very difficult for us to guard you, so I would ask for you to refrain from doing so unless it is an emergency.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” Twilight offered. “See that you do.” Rift seemed content to remain silent, save at Twilight’s prompting. Even then, it was only the answer. Rift didn’t even attempt to turn any exchange into the conversation. Though she was turning out not to be the friendliest of ponies, it was easy for Twilight to understand why Rift was a Captain in the first place. If focus on duty was a desired trait, than Rift had it in spades. Still, it was unfair to make the judgement so quickly after having met her, especially considering the conditions under which they met. It could turn out that she was more approachable on her off-hours. At least, she was certain Shining had never been like Rift was. The castle halls gave way to narrow service corridors, ones which tended to be away from the eyes of the public. Captain Rift stopped at a door, and held it open for Twilight. Inside, sitting around the round oak table, were ponies she had met and ponies she had yet to meet. In the former category were Celestia, Luna, Blueblood and Raven. In the latter category was Dill, the minister of education, and Spanner Twist, the castle’s press secretary. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, as promised,” Rift said. “Thank you, Captain,” Luna said. “Now that we are all here, may we begin?” Dill asked. He was a stout yellowish-green earth pony, with bright yellow accents through his otherwise similarly coloured mane. “Of course minister,” Celestia said. “I assume you’ve all been informed of the circumstances surrounding how Canterlot Chronicle got hold of Twilight’s proposal.” Various statements of confirmation echoed through the room. “Would any of you have any questions?” “Just one,” Spanner said. “You said a pony took it from Princess Twilight?” He was a slate grey unicorn with a trim peach mane. From his head to hoof, he maintained a very groomed appearance with nary a hair out of place. “Yes, by using the distraction to remove it from her saddlebags.” “Do you know what they looked like?” “Private Thistle,” Rift commanded, at Celestia’s prompting nod. From his place alongside the door, Thistle stepped forward. “Err... Yes,” he answered. The armour was a good fit on him, but it was apparent he felt desperately out of place. “The suspect is a yellow unicorn mare with an auburn mane and a cutie mark of three flowers. Unless I missed it, she was the only pony who had any contact with the bags.” The image of the mare so kindly offering Twilight her bags back flashed through her mind. “What were you doing in the city with the princess? Isn’t it customary for two guards to accompany royalty on official business?” “Well, yes... That is to say...” Thistle was struggling to find a satisfactory answer. “It was a personal trip,” Twilight cut in. It didn’t seem fair to let him struggle, especially when his answer would probably seem unsatisfactory. “I wanted to catch up with him.” “Catch up?” Spanner parroted. He eyed Twilight skeptically. “We were friends when we were foals, and it’s been years since I had seen him. And actually, by the time the courier pony crashed into me, I was investigating what turned out to be a summoned fire elemental.” “But what–” “Spanner, that is quite enough,” Celestia interrupted. “It’s not unreasonable for Twilight to be use to protocol as of yet.” He sighed, but relented. “Of course, princess.” “If that is everything...” She looked around. “Captain Rift, Private Thistle, thank you for your time.” Rift and Thistle bowed, taking the dismissal for what it was. “Princesses, Prince.” Blueblood waited till the doors had shut before speaking for the first time. “First and foremost...  Twilight, I expect you’ll see at getting some tamper proof saddlebags before the week is out.” She sighed and rubbed her horn. “Yes, I can see how that would have been useful.” “What would have been useful for me,” Dill spoke up, rather irately, “is knowing you were working on an education reform. Now I’m going to be dealing with questions about how this fits into the budget.” “Minster,” Blueblood said, “the idea was more conceptual than you realize. Unless you want to be informed of all ideas down to changing chalk colours, it’s reasonable to expect a degree of autonomy when coming up with ideas. Doubly so as a member of the royal family.” “Pages, does not sound like a simple concept to me,” Dill shot back, stressing the plural. Blueblood straightened his collar. “Twilight Sparkle is a very thorough mare, and I was assisting her with developing it further. If I had thought it prudent, I would have brought it to your attention, Minister.” He harrumphed but said nothing further. “What’s done is done,” Luna said. “We may bicker over details, but it does not change the fact that the reform, work in progress it may be, will be published for all of Equestria to see. I suggest we focus on what we are to do.” “Press conference?” Spanner suggested tiredly. “I fear so.” Celestia said. “It would be better to be proactive rather than reactive and let speculation spread.” “Princess Twilight will be holding it, I presume.” The idea of a press conference was not foreign to Twilight, but she knew this would be an opportunity of a different nature. There would be no softball questions, or topics which if poorly explained were worth more of a light-hearted laugh than a scowl. “I’ll do it!” Twilight declared. “Are you sure?” Luna asked. “Yes. The reform was my idea after all. I know more–” “No, I’ll do it,” Blueblood interrupted. “Excuse me!” Twilight cried. “No, you’re not.” “Yes I am.” “I agree with Twilight, Blueblood” Celestia said, “it is her work.” “I would agree if this was about presenting her proposal... But this is about handling the reaction to it.”” “I don’t see how it could be anything other than presenting the idea and answering questions” Twilight said. “It’s been a very slow week for news lately.” Blueblood turned in his seat. “Isn’t that right, Spanner?” Spanner groaned with weary realization. “Yes, and I see where you are going with this.” He rubbed at his temples. “The press has been pushing my office for a story, and now that they’ve got something, they’ll make it into one. Otherwise it would have probably slipped away on the back pages.” “So, this isn’t a matter of it being her work,” Blueblood said. “This is a matter of experience in handling the response. I don’t feel comfortable leaving it to Twilight.” “I disagree,” Twilight said. “I’m confident that the bill is thorough enough that there’s not going to be any room for misinterpretation, or nothing that I won’t be able to clarify.” “Just curious,” Spanner started, “but could the bill be feasibly introduced in its current state with minimal fuss?” “Well...” Twilight hummed in thought. “If you give me a minute, I could quickly write down what methods the bill would be using to improve magical education.” He shook his head. “No, no, no. I mean, legislatively, would it be considered ready to be signed into law? There being no large financial details absent, for instance.” “Oh. Well in that case, yes. I’d consider the bill ready.” Spanner sighed. “Look, I know you won’t like this, but Blueblood should be the one presenting it then. This isn’t us informing the public about a new bill we are proposing. They know everything about it, if it is really that ready.” “I still don’t see it,” Twilight said. “Ponies will want answers about the bill. Maybe clarifications, and discussion about it, but certainly not ‘damage control.’” “There’s a big difference between saying ‘I am going to fix the plumbing,’ and saying, ‘I’m going to fix the dripping kitchen faucet by shutting off the water to the building’. With your bill being so specific, you're going to have trouble passing the bill off as a draft, or a work in progress. And if something which needs to be changed is brought up, they may pass it off as backpedaling due to public pressure, or that you missed something. One has you lacking conviction, the other, you being incompetent. Neither would reflect well on the crown or you, especially as the new princess.” The worst part of all was that she couldn’t deny his points. “Be that as it may, I still believe I can handle it.” “Is the proposal really that bad?” Dill asked Blueblood. “Hardly,” Blueblood said. “If I were to take a random document from your desk, and give it to the press out of context, would they find fault with anything?” “I see your point.” From her place at the table, Raven cleared her throat. “Unless anypony has any other suggestions, it would seem that we all agree that either Princess Twilight or Prince Blueblood should handle the press conference.” “I believe so, Raven,” Luna said. “Well, with neither of them willing to back down, perhaps it should fall to a vote?” She looked to her left. “Spanner, what do you think?” “Blueblood,” Spanner said. “There’s going to be other chances for Princess Twilight to present the reform, and I’ve seen these turn ugly real fast.” Dill nodded in agreement. “Aye.” Celestia sighed. “Provided Twilight is the one to present the finished proposal, Blueblood.” “Though I still am not certain,” Luna said, “I feel in this situation, Blueblood’s experience at handling the press outweighs Twilight’s familiarity with her work.” Raven looked to Twilight. “Any objections or arguments.” Twilight frowned and glumly looked down at her hooves. It would seem Blueblood would have the opportunity after all, and not for the wrong reasons. “Nothing more than I’ve already said.”