It would take a while to organize the Queen’s Council but, for the most part, that was somepony else’s problem. I only had to figure out how to get Chrysalis to cooperate and not disrupt the entire proceedings. Right at this moment, I didn’t know how I was going to manage that, so I decided to sleep on it. I had my hooves full with breaking in an assistant advisor.
Diadem threw herself into the task with admirable vigor. Too much, actually. I think she must have been coached in Apicula’s intense manner. Fortunately, Starlight Glimmer had the personality to deal with the changeling and quickly began correcting and guiding her. My biggest problem was self-inflicted. As I had insisted that Diadem perform her role in her natural form, the presence of a changeling standing by the throne was of great concern to the nobles and not a few of the other citizens. My introductory speech had done little to assuage the fears and biases of the upper-class ponies. However, like the rest of the revolutionary changes that Trixie, Twilight, and I had introduced, I intended that they get used to it and start working with her, even if reluctantly at first. It amused me that none of them realized that they had already been dealing with a changeling on a constant basis ever since Moon Dancer assumed the position of Twilight’s advisor. Moonie was never going to tell them that though and, to be honest, I seldom thought of her as anything but the unicorn she presented herself to be.
Diadem had a trait that even Starlight could not match. She remembered everything. If she had read it or been taught it in some way, she could always recall it perfectly. If I asked her to remind me of something that somepony had said the day before during Day Court, she would unhesitatingly repeat it verbatim, and with the same inflection. If asked, she would shape-change into the speaker and give a perfect reproduction of the conversation. She was also a keen observer and noticed auditory and visual behaviors that indicated when ponies were and were not being forthcoming. Most of these had escaped my notice. I had not expected having her present would be so educational. Still, my attention couldn’t be focused on reading the more subtle tells of every petitioner. I reckoned that having Diadem around would come in handy in the future.
Trixie and I received an invitation from Spike for a Friday evening meal at Friendship Castle. The event was the second anniversary of Ember’s ascension to Dragonlord. Plans for a first-anniversary party had been derailed by Chrysalis’ second attempted takeover of Equestria. Spike insisted that this was a blessing in disguise as it allowed him to gather up even more exotic gems for the young dragon leader to sample. Privately, I hoped Spike was shifting away from his infatuation with Rarity now that she had formally joined Trixie and my de facto herd. I had noticed that he had been avoiding me a bit since then, and his warm greeting when we arrived felt much more like the old Spike I knew. It might have helped that I brought along a few chips of exotic gemstones shared by Daring Do for the occasion. I was supposed to ask about getting permission for the adventurer to visit a desert ruin only accessible by trekking through the heart of the Dragonlands, but that would wait until an opportune moment later in the evening.
Ember was in great spirits at the unexpected meal in her honor and gave a few hugs to a blushing Spike as he guided her along the Priceless Geological Treasure Display… excuse me… Dragon Snack Table. She laughed at every joke thrown her way until I complimented her for bringing her own contribution to the night’s menu fastened to the end of the bloodstone scepter. That earned me a stern glare from the Dragonlord and a rap on the head from my wife.
Spike excused himself to finish meal arrangements for the rest of the Elements, myself, Thorax, and Trixie. That’s when I noticed something, or rather, the lack of somepony. I trotted after Spike to find him giving last-minute directions to the head chef of the team of caterers that had taken over the kitchen. After he was done, I got my friend’s attention. “Hey, Spike! Where’s Twilight?”
He looked back with a smile, scratching an itch on his right cheek. “Hey yourself, Mark! She’s been holed up with Crispberry in one of the basement labs. Something about ‘innovations to make Pinkie Pie proud.’ Could you tell them it’s time to join the rest of the living world? The first course will be served in ten minutes.”
I nodded. “Will do, but… ahhh….”
“Directions?” He smiled, knowing how easily I got lost in this place where nearly every corridor and door looked the same. My suggestion to put up signs always got rejected but that just meant I got to try again the next time. “Go back the way you came and take the stairway on your left down two levels. Then follow the smell of smoke and sounds of explosions.”
Sounded like lots of science was happening. “Thanks, Spike! Hopefully, I won’t need a Death by Chocolate cupcake to drag her away.” I turned around after waving to the dragon. As soon as I faced forward again, Pinkie came up from behind me and shoved one of the aforementioned cupcakes in my outstretched hoof. Wordlessly, she pronked back to the party. Rather than wondering exactly how she got behind me where I had been looking not a second before, I stowed the Alicorn Quaalude into my saddlebags and sought out the stairwell.
I arrived at the lowest level of the castle just in time to see Twilight levitating the twisted remnants of an oven into the hallway. She wore her white lab coat, goggles, and a curved face shield. Maximum protection for the most intense science, I suppose. Unceremoniously, she dropped the wrecked appliance next to the blasted out remains of several more along the corridor. Her magic aura surrounded the lone remaining shiny and unblemished oven and lifted it into the air. “Crispy! We’ve only got one test appliance left!”
I heard the changeling drone’s voice drift into the hallway. “Then we’ll need to change all the parameters at once for the last test… you know… just in case the results are moderately exothermic again.”
Twilight nodded sagely as she re-entered the doorway from which she had come.
Deciding self-preservation was the better part of valor, I switched to my short-maned Marklestia form and raised a general-purpose shield before following. When I entered the laboratory, I saw scorch marks on every wall and the ceiling. The surfaces sprouted a few pieces of metal sheeting that had obviously been propelled at sufficient speed to embed them in the solid crystal. Piles of metal debris and blackened chunks of I-don’t-know-what had been pushed out of the way into every corner. Quietly, I doubled the strength of my shield.
Twilight lifted her wings theatrically as a scroll and quill materialized next to her. “Soon-to-be-co-author Crispberry, report your unbiased, clinical observations of test batch 7-G!”
The drone in question was wearing some sort of banded armor with Twilight’s colander over his face to provide that extra layer of protection. If anything, the alicorn had hot-glued even more gems onto the pasta strainer. In front of Crispberry hovered a roughly spherical burned lump of… something. “My initial assessment is that the sample is very dark. Black in fact… Oh, wait.” He lifted the colander out of the way with a hoof, revealing circular lab goggles with dark lenses. “Still black.” Crispberry lifted the goggles for a moment, revealing his yellow compound eyes narrowed in a squint. “Yep,” he said, snapping the goggles back in place. “Definitely a black exterior.”
“Consistency?” asked Twilight as she moved closer to her partner in crime. That crime being the wanton destruction of perfectly good appliances.
To my shock, the changeling took a large bite of the undefined mass and cocked his head as he chewed thoughtfully. “Dry, dense, burned, with a taste slightly better than locust droppings.” Pieces of the mouthful escaped his jaws and fell all around him. Add table manners to the ways he and Twilight were like peas in a pod.
“Progress!” yelled Twilight. She lifted a forehoof for a clop, which the drone readily supplied. “And the interior?”
With a flash of the changeling’s magic, the lump broke into a left and right half, now dripping a pale yellowish goo onto the floor. Crispberry said, “Once again, the cake batter in the center did not heat sufficiently. No sign of yeast activity either.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Is that what you two have been trying to do? Flash-bake a cake in half the time?”
The pair of experimenters started laughing; so much so that they held each other up to keep from falling over. After several seconds, Twilight said, “Of course not! That would be mere incremental science.”
“Indeed,” said Crispberry. “Super-geniuses like myself and the Magus of Science here concern ourselves in nothing less than the revolutionary!”
Twilight beamed. “We’ve set our goal at perfecting the one-hundredth-of-a-second cake! And we are so close now!”
I sighed. Sure they were.
The alicorn turned to the drone and scoffed. “As if we would settle for anything that took longer.”
The changeling matched her smirk as he looked into her eyes. “Not in the ten dimensions I call home.”
Twilight caught her tongue between her teeth for a moment, making her look positively adorkable. “Could be eleven.”
Crispberry made a show of scratching his chin with a hoof. “Mmmmmmmm—No.”
“Might even be twenty-six.”
The drone made the head motion as if he were rolling his eyes under his goggles. Wouldn’t have worked with compound eyes but it was easy enough to interpret all the same. “Don’t get me started. There’s a reason ‘bosonic’ and ‘moronic’ rhyme.”
What were they talking about? Were these… theoretical physics puns? I said, “You two know that there are books on the science of cooking, right?”
They turned to me with exactly the same scandalized expression on their faces.
Crispberry said, “We will not be held back by the mistakes of the past!”
“Indeed,” said Twilight. “We’re going to make our own mistakes… in the Grand Tradition of Scientific Discovery!” That earned her another hoof clop from the drone.
I shook my head. “Well, regardless, Spike sent me to fetch you two. The meal is about to start.”
The changeling stood straighter and smiled, “Free food!”
Twilight tilted her head. “I thought you ate just before we came down to the lab.”
With flashes of blue-green fire, Crispberry possessed a pair of minotaur hands which he used to tick off his points. “First of all: Free Food. Secondly: That was twelve hours ago.”
“It was?” The ends of the scroll held in Twilight’s magic spun at incredible speed until she was reading the top of the scroll. “It was.”
“Thirdly: Happy ponies expressing their love for each other. Fourthly: Pinkie Pie all on her own. Fifthly: … Uh… uh… free food.” With that, he gave a smug smile and transformed back to his hooved self.
Twilight smirked. “Forgot that minotaurs had five digits, did you?”
He shrugged. “Point conceded—should have gone for griffon claws. Anyway…” With a burst of flame, Crispberry took the form of a male zebra. “…we have time for one last trial, so let’s make it worth our while.”
The alicorn nodded. “Nice cadence. Try for anapestic next time. Anyway, our gravity and mix degradation problems were trivial to solve.”
Crispberry nodded as he shifted back to his changeling form. “Done.”
“We’ll need a bigger infrared micro-portal array for the heat distribution issue.”
“Done for now.”
“That leaves us with the complete and utter failure of the cake to get light and fluffy. Why is that happening?”
The two researchers furrowed their brows and looked at the floor, apparently for answers. Doubting they would find them there, I decided to help out. “Because yeast takes time to eat the starches in the dough.” At the pair of confused looks I received, I said, “The yeast makes carbon dioxide as a byproduct and that’s what puts the bubbles in the bread.”
“Ooooohhhh,” the two scientists said together.
Twilight turned to the drone and said, “Only one thing to do.”
Crispberry replied, “Yep. Engineer a better, faster, stronger version of yeast that reproduces in microseconds.”
I tried to voice a protest, but Twilight beat me to it. “No, too great of a chance of evolving a hyper-intelligent race of super-yeast that takes over the planet.”
The drone tapped his chin. “Hmmm. Hadn’t considered that. Personally, I don’t want to bow my knee to our fungal overlords.”
Twilight nodded. “And I’d feel bad about eating a budding civilization.”
Crispberry shrugged. “As long as they were yummy, I wouldn’t. What about a localized time dilation field synchronized with the heat array?”
Twilight’s look went from scandalized to contemplative. “I think… yes… it could be done.” She smirked. “All that heat focused in one place. It might be dangerous.”
He snorted. “Scientists and inventors dance on the bleeding edge of disaster every day.”
“So true. Still, the time distortion will be limited. We’ll need to increase the baking time to a quarter second.”
I said, “What happened to not settling for anything that took longer than—”
Twilight cut me off, yelling instructions to her fellow scientist. “Alter the mixture for Test Batch 8-A! Triple… no… quadruple the yeast proportions!”
Crispberry laughed, “Now that’s dancing with danger!” He went to a nearby table and threw three packets into a bowl. After a pause, he removed the packets, tore them open, and emptied the contents into the bowl before discarding the packets on the floor. Quietly, I started to edge toward the hallway.
The drone called out, “Adding a pinch of vanilla extract for that extra added something!” After a couple of perfunctory stirs with a soup ladle, Crispberry declared, “The sample is prepared!”
The lavender glow of the alicorn’s magic lifted a spherical mass of cake batter out of the bowl and into the oven cavity. Before the oven door slammed shut, I noticed that no wire racks were installed, leaving just the ball of dough floating in roughly the center.
Twilight rose onto her rear hooves and slashed her quill in the air like it was a deadly rapier. “Confirm ready for note-taking!”
“Confirmed!” Crispberry’s voice was a bit muffled. Looking over, I saw the pasta strainer was again adding a layer of protection to his face.
Twilight’s wings spread out and a multi-layer shield coalesced around her as she drifted off the floor. With a mad cackle of glee, she called out, “Stand back! We’re about to try SCIENCE!” She flipped down her face shield as I hustled into the hallway. From my vantage point, I could see Twilight but had a solid crystal wall between myself and the oven.
Crispberry called out, “Three… Two… One… SCIENCE!”
If the bright flash and subsequent tinkling noises were any indications, SCIENCE had indeed happened. That and the joyful laughter of the two experimenters. Cautiously, I moved my head back into the chamber. The smoking wreckage of the final oven sat like an enormous broken tooth in the center of the room. I did not see where the top half ended up. There did seem to be a bit more scrap metal around the area than I had remembered.
“Verdict?” asked the alicorn.
The drone discarded the colander revealing a furrowed brow. “The sample is still burnt on the exterior but retained its spherical shape.” Again, his magic split the black mass in half vertically. Again, uncooked batter leaked out, but noticeably less this time.
Twilight came up and her shredded lab coat disappeared in a flash along with her face shield. She raised her lab goggles onto her forehead as she squinted at the sample. “Hold on…” A few shells flaked away from the inside and outside of the two hemispheres. Believing the area to be safe, I moved up closer.
The alicorn sniffed the sample which looked quite a bit like… “Cake,” she said. Twilight tore off a small piece from one edge and floated it over to me. “If you would sample this and tell us what you experience?”
I looked at the roughly cubical plug of material. It did kind of look about right. “Is it safe?”
Twilight answered, “Of course” just as Crispberry said, “Almost certainly.” Wonderful. Here goes nothing.
I let the alicorn float the piece into my mouth and tentatively chewed. “It’s… cake. Very, very vanilla-y cake.”
Both scientists rose up onto their hind legs, making a 45-degree angle with the ground. They tucked their forelegs onto their chests and performed a few hops while punctuating each little jump by gleefully yelling “SCIENCE!” The fifth and final hop was accompanied with a double rear leg kick straight behind them that ended with them both landing on all fours. With a little more training, I reckon they could qualify as stand-ins for the famous Lipizzaner Stallions… if they ignore that one’s a purple mare and the other bugpony!
Twilight gushed, “Just think of the applications! Now Pinkie Pie can create cake shells in no time flat!”
A smoking metal fragment chose that moment to fall to the ground. I looked up at the ceiling dubiously, saying, “With only a modest amount of collateral damage.”
The alicorn waved a dismissive hoof. “My number-one assistant will take care of that. Then we can get back to doing even more science!”
Crispberry took off his goggles and tossed them into the remains of the oven. “Yes, that’s a great plan. But now… free food!” In a clatter of hooves, he was gone.
Twilight was not far behind, levitating her prize cake shell halves along with her. “Come on, Mark. Aren’t you hungry?”
Now alone amidst the wreckage of the room, I sighed. Now I knew why Spike gave Twilight and her labs a wide berth when she was in full mad-scientist mode. Stepping carefully around the shrapnel, I headed back to the party.
“Mark, my students have a favor to ask of you,” Twilight said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“One of their assignments is to put on a class play and their chosen theme is the 1,111th anniversary of when Princess Celestia first raised the sun.”
I began to suspect where this was going. “You need someone to play Celestia?”
Twilight nodded vigorously.
“Shouldn’t one of the students play her?”
“Well, it’s really just a supporting role. The others would be portraying various significant ponies of the time and how the event affected them and the society of that period. And not everyone in the class will be acting – some of them will be responsible for the other aspects of production such as building the set. The bottom line is that they could use somepony to take the role and you seemed the obvious first choice.”
I chuckled. “Not if they had ever seen me in my class play.”
Twilight tilted her head and frowned a little. “What do you mean?”
“I was relegated to playing a tree after my efforts were described as ‘wooden’.”
The alicorn snickered and various snorts and chuckles came from the others. Twilight said, “Considering what you’ve learned to do since coming to Canterlot, I suspect that you’d be adequate for the task. It’s not as if the play is going to be seen on Boardtrot.”
I held up my hooves in surrender. “Okay! Okay! Sounds like fun. As long as they can work around my schedule, I’m in. Oh, and it turns out that this Marklestia form is completely tone-deaf. No singing parts for me. Let Starlight know when they want to get together for rehearsals and the show.”
“I’ll work it out with the students on Monday,” Twilight replied.
“So, when is this anniversary anyway?”
Half the people in the room gave me a look that told me I had just said something incredibly dumb. Then my brain engaged and I facehoofed.
“It’s the next Summer Sun Celebration, right?”
There were nods and smirks all around.
I thought about it for a moment and realized something. “If Celestia first raised the sun 1,111 years ago, I assume that’s the day she earned her cutie mark?”
Twilight replied, “That’s correct.”
“And if she gained it at the typical time that ponies get them, that would put her age at somewhere around 1,120 to 1,130 years.”
“Right again. She is 1,125 years of age.” Twilight sagged and sighed. “This will be the fourth time that I won’t be able to wish her a happy birthday. I miss her.”
“Still haven’t had any luck with the rebuilt portals?”
The alicorn shook her head. “Even with Star Swirl’s assistance, I can’t re-establish contact with the dimensions that they were linked to. When the mirrors were broken, so was the spell containing the critical data. Star Swirl didn’t memorize the coordinates and I’m finding more and more often that, although he’s a brilliant theoretician, he’s terrible at documenting his work. Aside from a few facts about your dimension, he doesn’t recall anything about the realms the four repaired portals led to.”
I nodded. “I remember the trouble we had deciphering his journal.”
She snorted. “Do you recall the Royal Decree I pushed through to force collectors to provide access to the eight journals in private hooves? Even Star Swirl had difficulty reading his early diaries. Still, he examined those and the four journals housed in libraries. None cover the time period when the portals were established.”
“Did you find out anything new with his help?”
“Some small details. Most I had figured out for myself while trying to repair the mirrors. He also pointed out that the sisters should be able to set up a new portal to Equestria utilizing the unique quantum resonance intrinsic with any piece of their armor.”
I nodded. “And since Discord hasn’t found any indication of their passing, that means either they lost all their possessions or are unable to create a portal for some reason.”
“Those are the most probable scenarios. One thing is likely though – yours probably wasn’t the portal Celestia and Luna went through.”
I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why is that?”
“Because, if they went through yours, they would have become humans without all their vast powers. Star Swirl confirmed that, unlike in Sunset Shimmer’s dimension, most Equestrian magic does not work in yours. The Royal Sisters had to use a third party to transport the companion mirror to your realm.”
“Third party? Like Discord?”
Twilight shrugged. “According to Star Swirl, an unnamed being that travels between dimensions and takes the memories of its presence along with it as part of its payment. Apparently, the entity values its privacy even more than Spike when a new issue of Power Ponies arrives.”
I chuckled at that. More than once, moments after I had received a hug in return for the latest copy of Spike’s favorite comic book, my next sight was the young dragon’s back as he sprinted for the solitude of his room.
Twilight waved a hoof. “Anyway, if we assume Celestia and Luna left to combat some immense peril, then they would have needed all the magic they had. Ergo, it was one of the other portals.”
“Well, at least they won’t have to try to find the mirror that I came through.”
“That’s true.” She frowned a little. “Will that still be at your house? You’ve been gone for years now.”
“Phil and I left our properties to each other in our wills. He has it in his bedroom now.”
“He could have sold it, you know?”
Oh. That’s right – I’d never told Twilight about the favor Discord did for me. I gave her the short version. “Trust me – it’s there.”
“Okay. Maybe we’ll find a way to connect to that mirror again someday. Maybe Discord can give me the coordinates?”
Little balloons suddenly appeared out of nowhere and, as each popped, Discord could be heard saying, “Nope!” in various tones and pitches.
I sighed. I get the hint, pal.
Yona helped pick me up off the floor and I rubbed my sore nose. “Nopony told me that there was a dance number in the play,” I complained.
“That was the students’ idea,” Twilight told me from her director’s chair.
My spouse was watching the rehearsal from the audience while keeping Gemini occupied. She laughed and said, “Trixie didn’t know this was going to be a slapstick comedy, Twilight Sparkle.”
That’s my wife – always so supportive.
“Sorry, Princess Mark,” Silverstream said. “We thought that it would be fun.”
I gave the young hippogriff a reassuring smile. “It’s not your fault if I have four left hooves for dancing. Let’s try again, okay?”
I managed to get through the rest of the first rehearsal without tripping myself up more than a couple of times. Oh, and Twilight said my acting was barely adequate. That was still a big step up from wooden, so I counted it as a win. Nevertheless, I contacted a few acting coaches to give me some pointers. Also, my wife was very happy to instruct me on the finer points of projecting confidence on stage. No way was I going to screw up the students’ play over my inadequacies. I was there as a supporting actor and support them I would!
It’ll be alright on the night. Isn’t that the saying? Well, it was, although not without a lot of hard work. Trixie even added a bit of her illusion magic to enhance the props. I nixed the firework finale though – safety first! I’m happy to say that I did not fluff a line or make a misstep, although I’ll be glad to retire from acting from now on. The kids were ecstatic though. With just a bit of direction from Twilight and assistance from the teachers, they had pulled off a great play. I even learned a bit of history. The best part about it was the grateful hugs they gave me after the curtain rang down. I hoped Gemini grows up to be as wonderful as this lot.
Crap. Now I understood why Starlight was so interested in the headmare job.
“Ready to fly solo, Diadem?” I asked as I sat down on my throne.
“I am up to the task, Your Highness,” the changeling replied confidently.
Starlight’s butt signal had gone off earlier today while Sunburst was visiting, so I’d had the choice of borrowing Raven for the afternoon session of Day Court or putting my faith in the pink unicorn’s training of her apprentice. I trusted my advisor’s word that Diadem was ready and here we were. I was looking forward to finding out what friendship problem Sunburst and Starlight were supposed to resolve. I was not so keen on what was going to inevitably happen when Starlight returned. If Diadem’s work was up to par, that would give Twilight more ammunition in her crusade to wrest my favorite advisor from me. I could only put off the inevitable for so long before losing Glimmy. I sighed. Diadem wasn’t half as much fun to tease.
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