//------------------------------//
// Windfall - Guilt by Association 
// Story: The Forging of Harmony 
// by The Sweezlenub 
//------------------------------//

	It was a weird sound. The Professor had really been going for more of a dramatic clearing of the throat, perhaps a regal, composed “A-hem.” That would be sure to assert his vast superiority over his wayward student. He even could have simply tapped the bard on the shoulder.
But unfortunately for Professor Windfall, he did none of those things, at least, he did none of them exclusively, for in the ultimate moment before he could announce his dissentful  presence, he inhaled rather a large amount of the falling blizzard. All at once, the ice seemed to lodge itself deep in his left lung, and, wide-eyed, he gave a formidable, heaving cough, which jolted him forward and all but knocked the conspiring bard, who was caught completely unawares by the sudden attack, off of his seat.
“Augh!” The Professor choked. “Baugh! Blaugh! What—” he descended into a fit of raspy coughing. “—Do—” he gasped, trying to lift himself from the stone bench. “—You think—” pushing himself from the stone, he flinched from Sol and Teydin, trying to regain his balance. “—You’re doing?!” He wheezed, overbalanced and collapsed.
Sol and Teydin looked very concerned. “Professor?” Sol hesitated. “Are you alright? Is it your heart?!” People were beginning to stare.
“No!” His voice was a whisper. “You foals!” He glared at them. “This is treason!”
More passers by began to take notice of the unfolding spectacle and a throng began to form around the Professor and his accused. Inquisitive whispers of  the word: “Treason?” began to ripple throughout the crowd.
“Erm. No.” He frantically tried to rectify his mistake. “No treason.” He looked about the crowd who seemed wholly unconvinced. “Ha!” He said. “Treason! Ha! Ha ha ha!” He cackled. The crowd was intrigued. The Professor’s distress had a sort of maniacal magnetism to it.
“What’s all this kerfuffle?” Said an approaching guard. “Did I hear the word ‘treason’?”
With the air of a man trying to climb from a pit with a jackhammer, the Professor persisted. “Absolutely not.” He replied extremely quickly. “The very idea,” he paused and tried to look the guard in the eyes. “Is preposterous.” He failed to look at the guard directly, settling for a sort of dodgy, sidelong glance. Eye contact had never been his forte. “This is not my fault.” He pointed out.
Sol attempted to evict the look of abject horror from her face, but it wouldn’t budge. It was like the dark-yellow Professor was on a sort of deranged mission. “Ahem.” He continued. “Allow me to reiterate. First of all—no, that sounds stupid. In the beginning—”
“—Stop talking.” Sol whispered. The Professor fell dead silent in mid-sentence.
Sol would have been almost indignant if the guards hadn’t taken them away.


* * *


“We’re taking you away.” Said the Captain of the guard, breaking through the crowd. “I mean, really.” He looked at the Professor with a morbid fascination. “I’m not even angry. It’s just—that was the least convincing thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” 
The Professor bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Treason,” he said. “There isn’t any. Not with me.” He coughed. “I’m not a traitor.”
Windfall turned to face his student. “Sorry, but it’s out my hooves now. Even my way with words couldn’t get you two out of this one.”
The Captain gave him a strange look.
“We’re taking you away with them.”
The Professor turned and nodded solemnly at Teydin, whom he assumed the guard was addressing. “Yes. I expected as much.” He said wisely. “Sorry, fellow. Out of my hooves.” He sighed. “Ah, well. You boys had best be getting along, now.” He tried to make his leave but was impeded by the Captain. “Err, excuse me.”
The Captain said something to Windfall, who became very pale.
“You can’t be serious.”
The Captain quietly voiced a few of his concerns to the Professor.
“No, no, not a traitor. I tried to make that abundantly clear.”
The Captain furrowed his brow. “You know,” he said, “I hate to state what should be bloody obvious, but I don’t believe you.”


* * *


The trio was led down a dark corridor in silence. Guards surrounded them on every side. Sol knew what happened to traitors. At least, she had a vague idea. The inner workings of Stormchant’s judicial system were largely kept under wraps, but she had surmised the broad strokes from her years of study. They would await trial by the Inquisitors, a group of archmonks devoted to the municipal justice system. When the Inquisitors were ready, they would state their case and it would be heard by the panel. If more information was deemed necessary, the panel might call in witnesses, but they seldom needed to do so. The panel would then convene to assess their guilt, and, if their assessment found the accused to be guilty, decide their punishment.
Their punishment. Sol felt lost. Never before had she so much as gotten a bad mark on a test. She was a paragon student, an ideal citizen, but today she had wasted all of that for a moment of spite. That moment of weakness would cost her everything, she was sure, for treason against the Stormchantry was not an affair handled lightly by the archmonks. She would be forced to leave the college. Would be stripped of her apprenticeship as a monk. She would be banished from the city, her home. Or worse. And things boded just as badly for Teydin, much worse, in fact. As a commoner he could not expect the same treatment as an Initiate in the college.
Why couldn’t she just have repressed her desire to tell the truth like everypony else? Was she that weak?
As they walked through the stone corridor, the strange posters that adorned the walls caught Sol’s attention. They were painted canvases, each with a thick black border wherein were vibrant images of unicorns accomplishing impressive feats. One—labelled SIMPLICITY—showed a euphoric unicorn mare jumping through several iron-cast hoops at once. Another—labelled TEAM PLAYERS—showed two unicorn stallions sitting side by side as they wrote out by quill the exact same multi-page memo on “efficiency in the workplace”. The most puzzling of all was a poster that bore an image of a poster, which itself was emblazoned with the image of yet another poster. Each poster pictured within this poster proudly displayed the image of another poster displaying another poster, which, in turn, would display another poster. It was posters—each emblazoned with the word MOTIVATION—all the way down. Somepony had chiseled the words “make it stop” into the stone below.
“This will be your detainment cell.” Said the Captain once they were deep within the bowels of the Monastery of Justice. “Yes, you too.”
The three unicorns were pushed into the cell by the accompanying guards. and the Captain used a spell to seal the rune-inscribed cell door. It was a dank stone room, lit only by a perpetually-burning magical torch that was fixed to the wall. On the far side of the room there was a single bed. A bunk sat against the close wall. A poster similar to the ones Sol had seen in the corridors hung grimly on one of the walls. On it was a bright red stallion with a thick mustache and narrow, cunning eyes. He stared vehemently out of the canvas. “ACCOUNTABILITY” read the bottom.
The Professor wandered dejectedly off to the far bunk. Lying on it, he buried his face in his hooves. He let out a sad sigh. Lying on the bottom and top bunks respectively, the sigh was echoed by Sol and Teydin. Each of them felt that he or she was truly to blame for their arrest.


* * *


“I’m, erm, sorry.” Said the Professor.
“So am I.” Said Sol. “It was wrong to break the oath.”
“Me too.” Said Teydin. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you, Sol.”
The Professor shook his head. “Sol, you were braver than all of us.” He said sadly. “I wish,” he looked up. “I wish I had your courage.”
“I wasn’t being brave.” She shrugged. “I was just angry.”
“You were angry because you care.” He said. “You care more deeply for the art of magic than anypony I’ve ever seen.”
“The irony is,” he continued. “If everypony were like you we’d have learned to move the sun ages ago.” He chuckled. “And nopony would be rotting in a cell for having the courage to admit what truths she knows.”
Teydin smiled. “It’s true, Sol. Windsreach would be better off with more mares like you.”
They sat in silence for several minutes before Sol spoke.
“Teydin, what were those manuscripts you were talking about earlier?”
Teydin grinned. “I’m glad you asked.”