//------------------------------//
// Intermission: The School of Friendship Saves Some Face! 
// Story: Shining Armor Saves Everyone 
// by 42Zombies 
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All of Equestria was suffering without the princesses. But in times of crisis, the ones who always suffer most are the children.

The students at Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship had gone without teachers for three weeks. Classes had been cancelled. Tests had been postponed. Substitutes had been tricked into giving easy assignments. The school was in complete chaos, except for the fact that everycreature was going about business as usual and no rules had been broken.

As the acting headmare, Starlight Glimmer had been doing her best to keep things on track. But finding steady substitutes for a school like the School of Friendship was tricky. Qualified ponies weren’t always available or even reliable. There were a lot of no-shows. When the students walked into a classroom, they had no way of knowing if a teacher would show up or not.

Such was the case on the day that Shining Armor paid his visit to Dusty Draft’s apartment. The students for Pinkie Pie’s second-period class on laughter were there, but no teacher had been waiting for them. 

And so the students wound up spending several minutes in their seats, waiting to see if anycreature would show up to actually teach them. It was really dumb.

“This is really dumb,” Gallus said, resting his cheek on his claw. He sat in the middle of his group of friends, all gathered together in the center of the weird bleachers the class used for seating. There were other, less important students there, too.

Smolder sat with her arms propped up on her knees, holding her head in her claws. “How long do we have to wait again? When can we leave?”

“Fifteen minute rule,” Sandbar said from his seat beneath Gallus. “If the teacher’s a no-show by then, we can leave.”

“Well, how many minutes has it been?” Gallus asked.

Sandbar looked at his watch, which he did not have.

“Seven,” he said.

“Seven?” Smolder repeated. “Seven’s not fifteen!”

It was mathematical facts like those that the School of Friendship prided itself on teaching its students. Or it would, if a school could be proud of things. Or if there were any teachers around to actually teach things. Smolder was still right, though, and you couldn’t take that away from her.

“Yona tired of waiting!” Yona whined. “Classes boring without professors!”

The yak hung her head languidly, too bored and frustrated to bother sitting up straight.

Not everycreature was bored, though. In fact, only most of them were. Silverstream was the only student who looked at all eager for class to begin. She had a big, toothy smile on her face, which was unsettling to the classmates who had forgotten hippogriffs had teeth for some reason.

“This is so exciting!” Silverstream said, even though it wasn’t. “Who do you think we’re going to get as a substitute today? Ooh! Or do you think class will be cancelled? What if we do get a substitute, but they try to eat us?”

“That’s only happened once,” Gallus pointed out. “Look, I’m telling you guys, no one is going to show up. We should just leave.”

“We can’t leave!”

Everyone jumped a little when they heard Ocellus’s sudden outburst. The little Changeling was sitting in the front, eyes focused forward at the head of the class. Her whole body seemed tense, and there was a touch of madness in her voice when she spoke.

“The teacher will be here any minute,” Ocellus insisted, her voice shaky. She kept facing forward, staring at the empty space where a teacher should have been. She didn’t blink. The only movement on her face was the occasional twitching of her left eye.

“The professor will come,” Ocellus said, sounding more like she was talking to herself than any of her classmates. “Class won’t be cancelled. We’ll have a nice, quality day of education.”

Ocellus’s friends all exchanged a concerned look. The changeling had been acting like this for a few days now. The lack of reliable substitute teachers was really getting to her; it was like she was in some sort of nerd withdrawal. It had gotten to the point where she was going back and redoing old homework assignments.

Not taking his eyes off of Ocellus, Gallus leaned back in his seat to whisper to the others.

“Do you think she’s going to have some sort of breakdown if a sub doesn’t show up?” He asked as he watched Ocellus dissociate.

“I hope not,” Sandbar said, not bothering to keep quiet. “Our counselor’s really not qualified to offer any real psychological support.”

As soon as Sandbar said that, the classroom door was pulled open. As if she’d somehow been summoned by having her counseling skills called into question, Starlight Glimmer trotted into the music room.

The counselor looked frazzled. Granted, most of the school’s staff looked that way, but Starlight seemed particularly bad that day. Her mane was a tangled mess, and her whole body seemed jittery. She was trying to smile for the students, but the look of panic in her eyes just made her look like an even bigger mess. She wasn’t fooling anyone except for the kid sitting behind Yona who couldn’t see anything.

Starlight hurried to the front of the class and gave everycreature what she thought was probably a very reassuring smile.

“Okay, okay!”  Starlight said. She raised a hoof to signal the students to settle down, even though literally no one was talking. “No need to panic! I managed to find a substitute for—”

Starlight froze, her smile disappearing as she looked around uncertainly.

“Which class is this again?” She asked.

“Professor Pinkie’s,” Sandbar said. He didn’t raise his hoof when he said this, which was improper classroom etiquette and a sign of severe moral decay.

“… Her class on Laughter, or her Pre-Calculus class?” Starlight asked.

“Laughter,” Gallus said. “Pre-calc is after lunch.”

Starlight nodded slowly. She looked like she was having trouble remembering that for herself. Clearly, the school’s hectic situation was doing a real number on her thought-brain.

“Right,” Starlight said, sounding like she was thinking about a million things at once. “Okay. Right. Sorry, I walked into the wrong classroom three times already; I’m not exactly on the ball today.”

The school’s counselor smiled and chuckled anxiously. It wasn’t exactly reassuring. It only served to make the atmosphere in the classroom even more awkward. No one smiled back except for the kid sitting behind Yona who couldn’t see anything. They all just waited for Starlight to say whatever she’d come in to say.

When she didn’t say anything and just kept smiling, Ocellus raised her hoof.

“Um… counselor?” She asked politely. “You said you found a substitute? Why isn’t a teacher happening in front of us?”

Starlight blinked. She slapped her forehead with her hoof and laughed.

“Oh, right! Right,” she said. “Sorry. I’ve been so busy lately; I haven’t had any time to rest. I haven’t slept in three days. If I close my eyes for too long I start falling asleep, but I can’t do that! If I do that, the stress nightmares will come. My mom is in all of them, but she doesn’t have a face and I know if I look at her for too long I’ll never wake up.”

Clearing her throat, Starlight Glimmer moved on from that boring bit of information.

“It took me some time, but I’ve found the perfect substitute for Pinkie Pie’s class on Laughter,” she said, beaming with pride. “After all, there aren’t many ponies in Equestria who truly understand humor enough to teach a class about it. But the substitute I found is an expert on the disgusting, wet sound you make whenever you hear a joke.” 

“Who is it?” Sandbar asked. “Is it me? Am I the substitute?”

Starlight chuckled and shook her head. “No, Sandbar, it’s not you. It’s illegal for students to be their own teachers.”

“Who then?” Smolder asked. “Is it one of Professor Pie’s sisters?”

“Is it Sandbar?” Silverstream asked.

“Is it Cheese Sandwich?” Ocellus asked.

“Is it Sandbar?” Sandbar asked.

“Is it normal to feel like you want to crawl into bed and never leave?” Gallus asked. “Sometimes I feel like that.”

“Nope!” Starlight answered. “You’re all wrong, which will be reflected on your final grade. No, your substitute is somepony who’s an expert in laughter and cheer! The famous party-pony… Cheese Sandwich!”

Ocellus frowned. “But… Didn’t I ask if it was—”

Whatever hilarious question Ocellus had been about to ask was cut off by Silverstream gasping excitedly.

“Oh my gosh!” She exclaimed. “Cheese Sandwich? This is so exciting! I have no idea who that is! I’m their biggest fan!”

The entire classroom murmured with excitement. The only ones who were silent was everycreature who wasn’t Silverstream.

Starlight nodded, still smiling with her mouth and her teeth.

“Yup!” She said. “Cheese Sandwich! Unfortunately, however, he isn’t actually going to be able to make it, as he’s currently serving a prison sentence for committing accordion crimes. I had to settle with booking an acquaintance of his to serve as your substitute.”

This elicited confused murmurs from the class. Even the students who weren’t a part of Gallus’s circle of friends voiced their confusion, and they usually didn’t talk at all. Some of them didn’t even know how, and just made strange gurgling noises. Everyone knew what they were trying to say, though.

“Okay, calm down,” Starlight said, gesturing for everycreature to start stopping the noise. “Don’t worry; the substitute I wound up getting works very closely with Cheese Sandwich. They once spent six months wearing the same jacket, which is an incredibly long amount of time. So I hope you’ll all be respectful as I introduce your substitute teacher…”

Starlight gestured towards the classroom door, turning the students’ attention towards it. They could all see somepony was standing at the very edge of the doorframe, trying to remain out of sight until Starlight gave their introduction.

“Please welcome Mr. Sans Smirk!” Starlight commanded.

The pony who had been waiting outside the classroom strode in, and he was very Sans Smirk. He trotted up to Starlight’s side and looked at the students with a small, polite smile.

“Hello,” he said in a dry, almost-lifeless voice. “My name is Sans Smirk. I work with Mister Sandwich and run his gag factory while he travels around Equestria. My primary duties involve overseeing production of novelty items, testing them for humor, and drinking all of the leftover seltzer water. Every week, on payday, I pay myself exactly five bits and then fall asleep on the factory floor until the work week begins again.”

“As you can see, he’s very qualified,” Starlight said, clearly proud of herself for finding such a talented substitute. “I think you’re all in very capable hooves. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find a substitute for Fluttershy’s class on mollusks.”

Starlight sighed, relieved, and turned to walk out of the class. It took her three tries to find the exit, but eventually she was able to successfully leave. The students were all alone with Sans Smirk, who was still there.

“Alright,” Sans said as he stood before the students. “I was unable to find any kind of syllabus or lesson plan for this class. Nevertheless, I believe I have a good idea of where you are in regards to your education in Laughter and Cheer. As such, I have a lesson plan I believe you will find to be intellectually stimulating and also deeply amusing. It will be a blend of education and entertainment that I call… a chucklesson.”

Gallus raised a talon up into the air, like a proper gentleman.

Sans Smirk squinted when he saw one of the students was trying to get his attention. Not knowing any of the children’s names, he pointed at Gallus after doing some searching.

“Yes, the young griffon dressed like a Wonderbolt?” He said. “You have a question?”

Gallus, whose blue fur and plumage had gotten him mistaken for a Wonderbolt six times already, sat up straight so he was more clearly visible.

“Uh, Mr. Smirk?” He said, trying to sound casual. “Professor Pie doesn’t give us any assignments. She just lets us watch movies and we have all of our classes outside.” 

The griffon smiled eagerly, hopefully waiting to see if Sans Smirk would believe his lie. So far, Gallus had been able to trick half of the substitutes they’d had into letting the students take things easy. Somehow, those teachers had wound up believing Gallus despite him not doing a very good job of acting like he was being honest.

Sans Smirk studied Gallus’s hopeful expression carefully for a moment before giving his response.

“Hmm. I believe this is an attempt at trickery,” he said. “I choose not to fall for it.”

Gallus hung his head in shame. His friends attempted to comfort him by giving him a soothing massage.

Sans Smirk turned to the front of the class and walked up to the blackboard. He picked up a permanent marker and began to write out his lesson plan.

“Now,” Sans said, “before we can learn how to incite laughter, we must learn what laughter is. Pony Webster’s defines laughter as ‘The disgusting, wet sound you make whenever you are amused by a joke’. But before jokes were invented, our ancestors were forced to make each other laugh through the use of pantomime routine. Naturally, this didn’t work because pantomime isn’t funny at all…”

The students all shifted in their seats uncomfortably. This was supposed to be a combination of education and entertainment? Gallus’s friends in particular all shared a look. It was a look that seemed to ask the question, this is supposed to be a combination of education and entertainment? It really made them wonder if this was really a combination of education and entertainment at all.

It wasn’t. In fact, it was barely either.

And the six friends were starting to realize that, if they didn’t do something soon, it was only going to get even more barely either.





The rest of the school day dragged on with as little education and entertainment as Sans Smirk’s lesson plan had contained. It was boring, and also dumb. The students of Princess Twilight’s School for Gifted Youngsters were forced to go through class after class of boring substitutes, no-shows, and no other third thing to round out the list. It seemed like the day would go on forever.

That’s not how time works, though, and eventually the school day did end. The school bell rang, signaling to the students that if they didn’t leave immediately they would be hunted throughout the halls of the school by the janitors. Tired and languid after a long, boring day, the students filed out the doors of the building.

Most of the students returned to their dorms to get started on their homework. Not everyone, though. Once school was out, Gallus and his group of friends went to hang out at the Treehouse of Harmony, which wasn’t their dorms. It was a treehouse.

Spirits weren’t exactly high when the six friends arrived at their clubhouse. Everyone felt drained after such a long, boring day. Every day had been like this for the last week or so, and it was really starting to add up.

“Oh man, you guys,” Sandbar said as he laid on a couch and stared up at the treehouse’s crystal ceiling. “We’ve gotta do something about this.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Gallus had for some reason decided to lie in a hammock that hung from the ceiling. It was not comfortable. “By the way, is it normal to feel lonely even when you’re surrounded by people?”

Not everycreature was onboard with Gallus and Sandbar. Smolder, who was lying face-down on the floor and struggling to work up the energy to do literally anything, scoffed.

“Great idea,” she said sarcastically. “Got any ideas how we’d do that? You want to start interviewing substitutes, Sandbar?”

Sandbar frowned. “… Kinda.”

“Where would we even find substitutes, though?” Silverstream asked. “At a café? In a barn? Under a lake? And once we find a substitute, how to we catch them? What kind of bait would we use?”

“We don’t even have a cage big enough for a substitute teacher,” Smolder pointed out. “How would we stop them from escaping and hurting somecreature? We don’t know anything about finding replacements for the professors.”

Yona crawled out from under the couch in order to join the conversation.

“Yona think, in times of great difficulty, it best make voices known. Discontent of youth often disregarded by grown-ups who not recognize youth’s problems. Adults not see that youth often first victims of these things. Must make adults see. Only by forcing adults to acknowledge youth can youth make them understand.”

Gallus rolled his eyes. “That’s what you always say, Yona.”

Yona shrugged.

Ocellus slammed her hooves on the table in the center of the room, a manic look in her eyes. She didn’t hit the table very hard, so no one heard her. Luckily, she spoke louder than she hit tables.

“We have to do something!” Ocellus insisted desperately. “Every day without the professors is another day of learning lost! Don’t you see how that’s terrible?! Our future is slipping through our hooves! If we don’t do something, who knows what will happen?!”

“Ocellus!” Sandbar sat up, alarmed by Ocellus’s behavior. “Calm down!”

“Oh, okay,” Ocellus said calmly.

Now that the room had calmed down a bit, the friends went back to thinking to themselves. Finally, after only a moment, Smolder spoke up.

“You know,” she said, “we could probably get this all sorted out if we could get in touch with Chancellor Neighsay.”

As soon as Smolder said that name, everycreature’s eyes widened in realization. They all sat up and looked at each other with their eyes, mutually coming to the same conclusion with their teen brains. Chancellor Neighsay, of course! The old elf who was the boss of all the schools! He was certainly a person that existed!

“Chancellor Neighsay could totally help us find better substitutes!” Sandbar said excitedly. “Why didn’t we think of this sooner?”

But just as all of the friends were starting to feel hopeful over this barely-a-plan, they once more realized something all at once.

“… Does anyone know how to contact him?” Sandbar asked, looking around at his friends in the hopes that one of them had the contact information of certain government officials.

As it turned out, several of the others did know how to get in touch with certain members of Equestria’s government. Ocellus, for some reason, knew the home address of Dynamite Dangerous. Silverstream had a private line to the head of DEATH. And Yona often saw the head of the Bureau of Chomping and Biting in her nightmares.

None of them knew how to get in contact with Chancellor Neighsay, though. That was disappointing, but literally nobody except them cared.

“Well, I guess we should just give up!” Sandbar said in a chipper tone.

But Gallus, who normally was all for giving up, wasn’t ready to agree with Sandbar just yet. The bright blue griffon rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he thought about something. As this thought took form inside of his weird brain, Gallus found himself looking in Smolder’s direction.

When Gallus laid eyes on Smolder, the thought struck him:

‘I would look really cool with horns.’

But as soon as Gallus had that very good idea, he came up with a plan to get in touch with Chancellor Neighsay.





Gallus didn’t bother telling the others the details of the idea that had been born inside of his head by his brain; he just gathered them around the desk, got a quill and ink, and started writing a letter to Chancellor Neighsay, the nasty goblin who wore a cape. His friends were all fairly confused about why Gallus was writing a letter to someone when they didn’t know how to get in touch with him. They didn’t care enough to ask questions, though, so they just watched Gallus go to work. It was very exciting.

“Alright,” Gallus said as he put quill to paper. “Dear Chancellor Neighsay… We need help. The School of Friendship—”

“Whoa, whoa, dude!” Sandbar interrupted. “You can’t just start a letter like that!”

Gallus looked up at Sandbar, an eyebrow quirked. “I can’t?”

“No!” Sandbar said. “It’s impolite! You should ask him how he is.”

“Tell Chancellor that Yona say hi!” Yona demanded.

Gallus stared at Sandbar for a moment before returning to the letter, sighing and shaking his head.

“Okay… Dear Chancellor Neighsay… How are you? We need help—”

“Ooh!” Silverstream grabbed the sides of Gallus’s head. This was apparently a signal for him to stop writing and listen to what she had to say. “Don’t forget to tell him how we’re doing! Tell him about the award I won at the science fair!”

As Gallus yanked his head out from between Silverstream’s talons, he leveled an irritated glare at his fellow beak-having friend.

“Silverstream, he’s not going to care about that,” Gallus chided, trying to restrain his unbridled rage.

“He might!” Silverstream pointed out, as chipper as ever.

“And tell Chancellor that Yona say hi!” Yona demanded once again.

Gallus groaned and went back to writing the letter. He formed words inside of his head which somehow traveled down into his quill and came out onto the piece of paper. 

“Dear Chancellor Neighsay… How are you? We are fine. Silverstream won the ribbon for Best Grooming at our last science fair… Please help us… Our school is…”

“In this kind of letter, your language should be much more formal,” Ocellus interjected. “Try to be more official-sounding, Gallus.”

“Is Gallus going to tell Chancellor that Yona says hi, or what?” Yona asked impatiently.

Gallus slammed the quill down onto the desk in frustration. Since it was just a feather, it didn’t make much noise, but it still had the desired effect. The others flinched back sheepishly as Gallus glared at each of them in turn.

“I’m sorry, would you guys rather write the letter?” Gallus asked angrily.

No one said anything in response. Much like any school project, they would rather brainstorm than actually contribute to the work. Gallus didn’t exactly blame them for this mentality, though; if somecreature else was writing the letter, he’d have felt the same way.

Gallus took a breath and calmed down. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you guys. But we’re never going to finish writing this if you keep interrupting me.”

The others all nodded in agreement, apologetic expressions on their faces. There were no hard feelings; everycreature had been having a stressful time over the last few weeks. It was only natural for them to be a bit snappy.

“Alright, guys,” Sandbar said. “Let’s stop helping and let Gallus finish the letter. You know what they say about too many cooks.”

No one did. Nevertheless, Gallus’s friends stepped back and allowed him to finally get some gosh dang work done.





Dear Chancellor Neighsay,

How are you? We are fine. Silverstream won the ribbon for Best Grooming at our last science fair.

We are writing to you to ask for your help in a very important matter regarding the School of Friendship. Because of magical shenanigans, all of the teachers at our school are missing. We have had to rely on a chain of unreliable substitutes to keep the school running. None of these substitutes have worked out, and most of them are in jail now.

Could you possibly help us find more suitable teachers to fill in while our professors are missing? We would really appreciate it, and it would mean a lot to us. Please remember that we taught you how to stop being racist, which made you a better person. You should be nice enough to agree to help us.

Please do not eat this letter.

Signed,
The kids from school

P.S., Yona says ‘hi’.

Gallus looked at the words he had decided to use for the letter to Chancellor Neighsay. They were good words, Gallus thought, and he had put them all in the right places. He hadn’t just pretended to write, like he did when he took notes in class.

Yup. It was definitely a letter. It all looked good. For some reason, though, Gallus’s handwriting was completely identical to a font known as ‘Monotype Corsiva’.

The others were all gathered around Gallus, reading over his cat shoulders. They were also making sure that it was, in fact, a letter with words and stuff. In addition, they wanted to see if the letter was good enough to send to Chancellor Neighsay. Not all of them were convinced.

“You know, I still say it could use a musical number,” Sandbar suggested as he scrutinized the letter. “Maybe a car chase, just to ramp up the tension in the third act.”

“Definitely, definitely,” Silverstream agreed. “It needs some sort of hook, at least. It’s just way too dry as-is.”

“And we should probably make it clearer that the Chancellor shouldn’t eat this letter,” Ocellus said. “We only have that one sentence asking him not to eat it. He might try to eat it before he gets to that part.”

“You guys are being ridiculous,” Smolder said. “Chancellor Neighsay probably doesn’t even eat food. Have you seen how skinny he is? He’s like a mummy or something.”

“Yona thinks letter is okay,” Yona said. “But Yona thinks we should have custom stationary for future letters.”

Gallus rolled the letter up into a little tube and tied a ribbon around it. He didn’t care if the letter could be better; he’d just finished writing it and didn’t want to go back and start all over again. As far as he was concerned, they were good to go.

“We still don’t know the Chancellor’s address,” Sandbar pointed out. “How are we supposed to send it to him?”

Gallus turned to his friends and gave them a smug, secretive smirk. This meant that he had a plan. He lifted the letter up into the air and waved it teasingly. This meant that he had a letter.

“It’s simple,” he said. “Let me explain…”

Without bothering to actually explain anything, Gallus handed the letter to Smolder. The dragon didn’t know what to do at first; she stared at the piece of paper quizzically before reaching out and taking it.

“Smolder,” Gallus said, “do that fire thing.”

An expression of understanding appeared on Smolder’s face. She smiled and winked at Gallus before holding the letter up to her mouth and exhaling a small puff of flames onto the paper. The letter caught fire, and almost instantly it was reduced to nothing but ash and smoke.

The others looked at Gallus in confusion, but the griffon just kept on smirking.

“See? We didn’t need his address,” Gallus pointed out. “We have dragon magic.”

Slowly, the others all realized what he meant. They smiled and nodded understandingly. Of course, it was so simple! Why hadn’t any of them thought of using the magical breath that came out of dragon’s mouths? Huh? Why?	But now that Gallus had spelled things out for them, everyone realized what a good plan this was.

Everyone except for Smolder.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

Gallus’s smirk faltered. 

“You… You just used your dragon magic to send a letter to Chancellor Neighsay, right?” He asked. “You know, like Spike?”

Smolder shrugged. “I can’t do that. I just breathe normal fire, dude.”

All of the hope and enthusiasm that had been building up in the Treehouse of Harmony went away, like some sort of emotion-based air coming out of a tree-shaped balloon. The smiles on everycreature’s face went away as they took in what Smolder had said.

Gallus, in particular, took it the hardest. As his incredibly good plan fell to pieces right before his eyes, it was only now that he realized there had been several flaws. For one thing, Gallus had never actually checked that Smolder could use her fire to send messages like Spike could. 

Actually, that was pretty much the only flaw. Just that. It was a pretty big one, though.

“If you can’t use your fire breath to send messages, why did you burn the letter?!” Gallus asked, at the end of his very short rope. The rope was made out of twine.

Smolder threw her hands up defensively. “I like to burn things! You know that by now, dude! If you ask me to burn something, I’m not going to stop and think about it! I’m just nuts for setting things on fire!”

“It’s true!” Silverstream contributed. “She sets our dorm on fire at least once a month! It’s so exciting! We had almost no fires when I lived under the sea!”

Even though it was great how much Smolder and Silverstream loved fire, Gallus let out a groan of frustration and despair. The young griffon fell to the floor of the treehouse and covered his face with his talons. All that work, down the drain. It wasn’t fair; Gallus’s plan had been perfect, except for the part where it wouldn’t have worked. Why did things like this always happen to plans that were guaranteed to not work?

The others all exchanged concerned glances as they gathered around Gallus. They weren’t sure what to say, or why Gallus was blue. Only one of those things was relevant at the moment, but nobody cared. Why was he blue?

After everyone got bored of wondering about those things, Ocellus finally spoke.

“… Now what?”

“We could write another letter,” Sandbar suggested. “Smolder can’t send letters with her breath, but maybe someone else can. Have any of you ever done it?”

“Yona have dream once her horns could send telegrams,” Yona said thoughtfully. “That good enough?”

It wasn’t.

“This is hopeless,” Gallus groaned. His voice was croaky, despite the fact he was not a frog. “We’re gonna have to keep dealing with lousy substitutes and boring classes… And Ocellus is going to die because she’s going into nerd withdrawal.”

“Actually, I’m over it now,” Ocellus said matter-of-factly. “I think I actually just had too much soda.”

“Oh, great!” Gallus said in a way that made it seem like he didn’t feel like it was actually that great. “Not only is the school in trouble, but Ocellus is drinking all of our soda! What are we supposed to do about this?”

Everycreature pondered this incredibly deep question. After a few moments of silence, Smolder, who was orange, spoke up.

“Maybe we’re overthinking this,” she said. “I mean, we’re just a bunch of kids. We can’t find substitutes, or organize classes. Maybe we need to focus on what we can do.”

“… What’s that?” Sandbar asked.

“Smolder shrugged Finding whoever kidnapped our professors and beating them up.”

Finally, somecreature had said something sensible! Everyone’s faces lit up as they took Smolder’s words in. Navigating the complex waters of the education system wasn’t something any of them were equipped to do. But finding someone and beating them up? That was definitely something they could probably do.

“Wow, yeah!” Sandbar exclaimed. “We can totally do that!”

“Alright!” Silverstream said excitedly. “We’ve got this!”

Then they all thought about it a little bit more.

“Wait, do we got this?” Silverstream asked, noticeably less excited. “Where is the kidnapper? How do we find them?”

Gallus groaned, frustrated. “Why do we not know where anyone is?! All of our plans are falling apart!”

Once again, hopelessness fell upon the six friends who hadn’t decided on an official name for themselves. Today was a real roller coaster, only not the fun kind with banks and loops and a video to keep you entertained while you waited in line for an hour. This was an emotional roller coaster, which only existed in their heads and was thus much less exciting.

But then, just when it seemed like the lame feelings roller coaster was going to come to an end after a boring downhill descent, it began to climb up another hill. The roller coaster was entering the tunnel of Gallus having an idea.

This metaphor was really getting out of control.

“Wait…” He said. “Maybe there’s someone who knows where the kidnapper is!”

“You mean like the kidnapper?” Ocellus asked.

“Yona not sure kidnapper would tell us where kidnapper is!” Yona protested.

Gallus shook his head, which was a bird head. He was still blue.

“No,” he said with his bird mouth. “But maybe we could ask the Spirit of Harmony to help us!”

The rest of the friends didn’t look quite as hopeful as Gallus had expected. They looked hesitant and confused, and maybe a little sleepy. One of them looked like a fish.

“Are you sure?” Smolder asked skeptically. “How would the Tree of Harmony know, anyway?”

Gallus shrugged.

“Look, I know it’s a longshot,” he said, “but it can’t hurt to try. The Tree of Harmony’s connected to all of the magic in Equestria. If anyone has a lead, it’ll be the magical tree we’re friends with that we turned into a clubhouse.”

Hearing the words come out of his beak gave Gallus pause. He stopped and thought about what he’d just said.

“You know, saying all that stuff out loud made me realize our lives are kind of weird.”

“Okay, but how do we get in touch with it?” Ocellus asked. “The Tree has only ever contacted us; we’ve never tried to get in touch with it. Do we just… start talking to the clubhouse until something happens?”

“Yes,” the ghostly illusion of Twilight Sparkle said.

Everyone jumped in surprise. Some of them were so surprised that they did it three or four times. The ethereal image of Twilight Sparkle that the Tree of Harmony used to communicate with the kids had just appeared out of nowhere. There had been no shimmer or light, or mystical twinkling noises as it manifested. It was just sort of… there.

“I am a tree,” the spirit said.

“The Tree of Harmony!” Sandbar exclaimed, as if it could have been anyone else.

“Were you… listening to us?” Smolder asked, sounding more than a little weirded out.

The ghostly version of Twilight Sparkle gave a small nod.

“Yes,” the Tree said. “I am constantly listening to you. I have no choice. The treehouse is made out of my old body.”

“Oh. Right.” Smolder chuckled sheepishly.

“Please stop singing karaoke inside of the treehouse,” The Tree pleaded, its voice remaining steady and pleasant. “It is bad to listen to.”

Sandbar, whose song of choice on karaoke night was ‘Love is My Girlfriend and a River for Heartbreak (Live Version)’ by the Trottingham Boys, stepped forward.

“If you’ve been listening, you know we need your help, right?” He asked. “The professors are missing. Equestria could be in danger, and also school is really boring without them.”

The Tree nodded its ghostly head.

“I am aware of what is happening,” it said. “I can feel Equestria’s magic being turned to sinister purposes. I have felt this before with my long tree fingers. If something is not done soon, it will be too late. But do you believe you will be able to defeat whoever is responsible for this danger?”

The six friends exchanged a look. They were all too tired to really care if their plans were bad or not.

“We do have a plan,” Ocellus said slowly.

“Yeah!” Smolder put her fists on her hips and grinned. “Our plan is to be real rowdy and beat the tar out of whoever kidnapped our professors. We’re gonna cause some real heck.”

“I can’t wait to cut loose and deal with all of my repressed anger,” Sandbar added cheerfully.

The Tree’s smile returned to its ghostly facsimile of a face.

“Very well,” the Tree said. “I believe that you have what it takes to be rowdy and nasty and beat someone up. This is a good plan that has my whole support. I shall create a path that will take you where you must go.”

To say that the friends were surprised to hear this would be an understatement. Actually, no, never mind. They were only mildly surprised. Actually, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. None of them were really surprised at all. At most, they were just sort of intrigued.

“Wait, really?” Gallus asked. “How are you going to do that?”

“Do not worry about it,” the Tree answered. It did not elaborate any further.

“So… you’re seriously just going to let us try and beat up whoever’s responsible for this?” Silverstream asked.

“Yes,” the Tree said. “Don’t worry— I got you, fam.”

The clubhouse began to glow, and a fierce rumbling sound filled the air. Before the six students’ eyes, the crystal floor beneath their hooves/talons/paws shimmered with light. Part of the floor shifted ever so slightly, and before they knew it there was a trapdoor in front of them.

“Okay, just go down there and follow the tunnel west,” the Tree said. “It should only take you a few days to get where you need to go. I’m out.”

Before any of the young six even had a chance to register what the Tree said, its spirit faded away.

“… So we have a basement now?” Sandbar asked, immediately forgetting why the trapdoor had been created in the first place. “What do you think we should keep down there? Bottles? Pianos?”

Gallus ignored Sandbar’s very sensible question and approached the new fixture of the clubhouse. He reached for the handle of the trapdoor and opened it to reveal a ladder that led straight down into the dark caverns beneath the Castle of the Two Sisters. It wasn’t a short ladder, either; it stretched so far down that Gallus couldn’t see the end of it. Presumably, though, it had an end; otherwise there wouldn’t be much point in its existing.

“… Who wants to go first?” Gallus asked. The way down looked a bit too narrow for his liking. He worried that this was another attempt by the Tree of Harmony to mess with him via his claustrophobia.

Yona answered his question by walking forward and falling down the open trapdoor, not even bothering to grab onto the ladder. 

The others watched with mild concern as Yona plummeted and disappeared into the darkness below. They stood around the trapdoor, waiting for any sign that Yona reached the bottom. They eventually got one when they heard a heavy splash from the bottom of the ladder, followed by the sound of Yona cursing in her native language.

Sandpar peeked his head over the trapdoor and raised a hoof to his mouth.

“Yona!” He called down, trying to be heard over Yona’s echoing swears. “Are you alive?”

Yona gradually stopped her cursing. There was a moment of silence.

“Yona fine!” She yelled, her voice echoing up towards them. “Water break Yona’s fall!”

“Water doesn’t work like that!” Ocellus yelled down into the trapdoor. “Falling and hitting the surface of the water would hurt just as much as falling onto solid ground!”

“Oh.” Yona replied. “Yona not sure what happened, then!”

The rest of the young six followed Yona down the trapdoor. Unlike her, they used the ladder. This was a smarter decision, as it stopped them from plummeting into the pool of water that waited directly below. Once they reached the bottom of the ladder, they simply hopped off onto the rocky terrain that surrounded the water.

Since most of them could fly, this was especially easy.

Gallus was the last to join them. He flew down the trapdoor and quickly descended into the caverns beneath the Everfree forest. The others were all waiting for him, standing at the edge of the pool of water that Yona had fallen into.

The group looked around at the tunnel they now found themselves in. It was made out of rocks and ground. Luminous crystals poked out of the walls, keeping the entire area surprisingly well-lit. Somewhere, there was a mole.

“Wow, we sure are underground!” Silverstream exclaimed. She took in all of the sights around her. It didn’t take long, since it was mostly just rocks.

“These tunnels must have been created by the Tree of Harmony’s roots!” Ocellus said in awe.

“Really?” Sandbar asked, adding absolutely nothing constructive to the conversation.

Ocellus thought about it for a bit, then shook her head.

“No, probably not,” she admitted. “I have no way to back that up.”

Gallus looked around thoughtfully. Being underground was very boring, but he couldn’t let that distract him. The tunnel stretched on in two directions, much like tunnels are known to do, but there were no landmarks or information kiosks to indicate which way the group should go. Gallus needed to figure out which direction led west.

He accomplished this by guessing.

“Let’s go this way, I guess,” Gallus said confidently. 

They wasted no time. They didn’t even stop for snacks. The six friends headed down the tunnel, venturing further and further through the stony halls. They were confident. They had a mission. It didn’t matter how long it took—they were going to save their teachers.

If the six kids had taken a little more time to think about things, though, they might have realized that walking halfway across the continent with no supplies was a bad idea. But that was just part of being young. Sometimes young people just didn’t think their plans for revenge through and wound up traveling underground for days without food or water. That’s just a part of life.

And that’s the moral of this entire chapter.