//------------------------------//
// Day XVIII 
// Story: Celestia of Equestria's tonic experiment 
// by Acologic 
//------------------------------//

Cadence watched Celestia’s Own Sixth Regiment troop into the castle courtyard, armour glinting in the sun, spears pointed proudly skyward like flags. Neat lines between ranks split the battalions into their companies, and within them moved officers, buglers and adjutants holding the great body together.

‘A fine display, don’t you think?’ said Celestia, grinning down at them from the balcony. Cadence nodded, although privately wished there were some other way through which they could pacify the rebels. Luna bit into a pie.

‘Who – mhm – cares what they look like?’ she said through a mouthful of pasty. ‘So long as they do the job –’

‘Luna, you have no appreciation of martial artistry,’ retorted Celestia. ‘That being said, in this case, I agree. So long as they do their job, I couldn’t care less what they wear.’

Cadence bit her lip. She knew Celestia, grateful from before, was trying to help. But still. Soldiers in the Empire? In spite of its name, Cadence ran a nation of peace. Sure, she approved the occasional flogging, but outright war? She wasn’t about that. She glanced at Celestia, whose eyes were alight with zeal.

‘Cadence?’ said Luna. Cadence blinked.

‘Y-yes?’

‘Are you – good?’

‘Of course not,’ snapped Celestia, frowning as though Luna had been insensitive. ‘Her crown is being threatened. Who in their right mind would be good?’ She smiled sympathetically. ‘Don’t worry. Just a little longer, and we’ll take back control. Things’ll be fine. You’ll see.’

Cadence nodded, smiling one she didn’t feel.





‘Can you let me up? Please? I need to use the bathroom.’

Trixie’s DAG did not respond and held her fast against the floor. She’d been in this position for nearly a day and had been holding it in for just as long. Tirek was awaiting his next dose of tonic. A DAG poured as he watched. Sunset was scowling as usual (she too was still on the floor), and Suri was sleeping atop a row of chairs. All of them, locked away with no means of escape. What a mess.

Trixie knew she didn’t deserve this. Ever since the Great Scam of Fifty-Eight, she’d been here, forgotten, trial-less, chained to a grimy wall and left to rot. Yes, she’d broken laws. Sure, she’d crossed what Celestia loved to refer to as ‘the line’. But that didn’t merit a lifelong stint in Tartarus, now, did it? 

Celestia, the villain. Trixie could say with an unusually high degree of confidence the guillotine was too good for her, for she’d worked with guillotines in the past as part of her magic act and knew it wasn’t enough. It brought her scant pleasure imagining Celestia’s sneering face cleaved in two by the falling blade. She deserved to suffer and for her, surely, there was reserved something special.

‘Comfy?’ Tirek asked Sunset, whose eyes had begun to droop.

‘Piss off.’

‘Nice. I like it. And you?’ he added, walking over to where Trixie was trying not to wet herself.

‘Listen,’ she said, ‘could you lend me that when you’re done?’

Tirek’s face wrinkled with disgust. ‘So you can pee in it? No! This is my baby!’ And he cradled the tankard as though it were, making syrupy kissing sounds that caused Trixie to cringe. ‘Tirek’s tanky – that’s what this is now. And here we all are, at the christening.’

He downed his tonic, smacked his lips, then handed his ‘tanky’ back to a DAG. Belching heartily, he prodded a cupboard or two with his hoof, the latter of which swung open and cascades of dry, grass-like chips tumbled out onto the mess hall floor.

Tirek snorted, then looked up and said, ‘Who’s for hay fries?’