//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Rekindled Embers // by applezombi //------------------------------// Chapter 4 Document found in the Knights Mystic archives, dated 133 AF.  Contents secret; access without permission to be considered heresy. I write this today with full knowledge that nopony besides the pontiffs that follow me will ever read my hidden journal.  This is fine; I write this at the wishes of my great grandmother.  My name is Faith Unrelenting, and I am the third pontiff of the Holy Equestrian Diarchy.  This record will be written and sealed, per my orders, in the deepest vault of the Diarchy.  My journal shall be available to all pontiffs, and any pony they deem fit for this information, until the end of time.  In it, I shall account the beginnings of the Diarchy, and various details of its history.  I do this at the behest of its first Pontiff, my great grandmother.  She even told me to write this introduction.  “One day,” she said, “Somepony is going to need to read this.”  Though she was perhaps unnecessarily vague, I do as she asked. My great grandmother, the First Pontiff, erased her name from history when she first ascended to her role.  Though she had contemporaries who remembered her name, she refused to allow it to be written down in any official Diarchy communication or history.  To this day, the Diarchy’s naysayers and detractors still remember her name, but as the Diarchy fills the earth, the First Pontiff’s true identity will fade from memory.  She did this, in her own words, to ‘ensure that it is my work, not my identity, which is glorified.  Let them remember the holy things I set in motion, not who I am.’  In another two hundred years, nopony will remember her name, but for eternity we will remember her deeds.  Her last missive to me, however, contained the instructions to make this journal, and share it with my successor.  At the very least future Pontiffs will know the holy name of our founder, Cozy Glow. 1109 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City The laundry room of the pages’ dormitory was made of unfinished concrete floors, with unpainted drywall ceilings.  The smell of detergent and faint mildew permeated the room, the seemingly permanent odor having been built up over the years.  Generations of pages, training for Knighthood, had washed their uniforms and bedding in this very room.  This fact failed to be very impressive for Emberglow, though — she was currently more impressed with the size of the basement sink, and its efficient water pressure.  It had been very useful for pre-washing whatever foul substance had been dumped into Emberglow’s sheets once (sometimes even twice or more) a week.  Today’s flavor was tree sap, spread throughout her sheets — though she was lucky nothing had been dumped in her spare robe drawer this time. The sap was nearly impossible to wash out.  The hot water in the large sink, usually so helpful for mud, dirt, honey, or other foulness that had been rubbed into her sheets, was proving largely useless for the tree sap.  It stuck to her hooves when she tried to scrub it, and her efforts seemed to be only spreading the substance farther.   Emberglow idly wondered at the amount of effort it would have taken to obtain this much tree sap; it seemed extreme for an immature prank.  She tried to stave off the urge to give up, wondering if she should simply inform the matron in charge of the cleaning staff.  There was precious little free time for pages, and it was becoming rather frustrating to have to use that free time to clean up after foalish pranks.  Surely she wouldn’t be blamed for what others had done to her bedding, right?   She had long since dismissed that option from her mind, though.  She didn’t want to let them win.  If they knew they were getting to her, it would only get worse — Emberglow was sure of that. She supposed she should have expected it.  Sir Steadfast had warned her that there would be bullying.  There were seventy nine pages at the facility, all training for Knighthood.  Only six of them were there due to sponsorships; the rest were from wealthy and noble families, with long traditions of serving as Knights.  Sponsorship ponies were treated as second class by the other students, less worthy than those who had been born to it.   It was fine, though.  Emberglow could handle it.  She was one of the best in her class, for most subjects.  Physically, she was far more prepared than those noble dandies.  Her mind was sharp, and her studies were progressing well.  She did struggle a bit at martial arts training, but with all her other skills, nopony among the faculty seemed to mind if she had at least one weakness. Emberglow was fairly certain who the culprits were, even if she had no proof.  In the end, though, it didn’t really matter.  Ponies would be jealous.  It was simply a fact of life, and she had resigned herself to it.  Even the other sponsorship ponies kept their distance, as her tormentors seemed to have singled her out in particular for their cruel games.  To be honest, though, this suited Emberglow just fine.  She had never been driven to form close friendships with those her age.  After all, she still got to see her parents one weekend a month, and she would stop in to speak with Oak Chips, her friend, or Sir Steadfast, her mentor, whenever she could. Another pony entered the laundry room, pulling her out from her thoughts.  He was an earth pony stallion, with light green fur and a black mane.  He was wearing the same light purple robes that she was; the robes of a page.  He entered casually, glancing at her, before setting down the basket of laundry he was carrying on his back.  There was a small bottle perched on top.  Emberglow recognized him from several of her classes, but she couldn’t remember his name.  She wasn’t sure she could remember most of her classmate’s names, actually; she supposed she’d never tried very hard.  She did know he wasn’t a sponsored pony, however. “I had a chance to casually ask one of the cleaning staff their opinion,” the stallion said airily, seemingly addressing nopony.  “What is the best way to get tree sap out of cloth?”  The stallion had a strong tenor voice, which was a little impressive.  Many of the other stallion pages were still young enough that their voices were changing awkwardly.  Emberglow looked up from her task to eye him suspiciously. “And?” she asked warily, wondering where this was going. “Rubbing alcohol,” he said, taking the bottle from the top of his basket.  He set it on top of one of the washing machines near the sink she was using.  “If it’s a huge amount, they recommend freezing it and scraping it off with a butter knife first, but if it’s spread out, they said rubbing alcohol.” Emberglow eyed it, and the stallion, cautiously.  She reached out a hoof to take hold of the bottle, but the stallion held out one of his own, sliding it away. “Nope.  We’re going to make an exchange,” he said.   Emberglow sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Some sort of quid pro quo?  Really?  Look, if this is some sort of lame come-on, you’re wasting your time.”   The stallion laughed.  It was a genuine laugh, not the fake tittering she often heard behind her back when nopony thought she was listening. “Your name.  That’s all I want,” the stallion said.  “It works like this.  Hi, my name is Lofty Tale.”  He held out his hoof. “Emberglow,” Emberglow said, holding out her own to shake his.  Lofty Tale, eh?  The Tale family was one of those noble clans that had spanned generations, full of heroes and Knights.  Everypony who knew anything about history would have heard the story of Strange Tale, the Knight Adamant who had infiltrated the Free Zebra Republic to steal schematics and designs for the zebras’ devastating firearms.  He was still celebrated as a hero centuries afterward.  There were others as well; it was said that there had been Tales fighting for the Diarchy as far back as the Siege of Manehatten.  A name like his would command a lot of influence. “Emberglow?  That’s a lovely name,” he said, sliding the bottle over to her.  She accepted it with a nod. “How did you know I would need it?” she asked, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice.  He cringed a bit as he began moving his laundry into one of the nearby machines. “I might have seen some ponies gathering the sap.  I didn’t even think about what they might be using it for at the time, or I would have tried to stop them.” “Don’t bother,” Emberglow sighed.  “If not the sap, they would have found something else.”  She rinsed out the sponge she had been using, and picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol, pouring a tiny amount on the sponge.  With her new tool, she vigorously attacked the sap.  While it wasn’t easy, it was working, with bits of the yellow gunk dissolving and sliding off the linens. “Would you like me to stop them next time?” he asked, his voice earnest.  Emberglow paused in her efforts, thinking.  If a Tale told her tormentors to stop, they probably would.  Of course, then there would be assumptions, insinuations, snickered behind hooves hiding smirking mouths. “No thank you,” she replied politely.  He nodded, as if expecting the answer. “You’re very strong, Emberglow,” he said, and she gaped at him.  He smiled at her expression of surprise.  She smiled back, gratefully.  “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” “Sure,” Emberglow said.  This was all so strange, but Lofty Tale seemed nice. “You haven’t made any friends here.  Why?” he asked.  Emberglow sighed.  She didn’t really want to answer that question. “I’ve never needed tons of friends,” she said.  “It’s never been a real priority for me.  I’m really close to my parents, and I have a few friends back home, but nopony my own age.” “Where is home for you?” Lofty Tale asked. “Just a few blocks from here, actually.  My parents own a clothing shop on the Merchant’s Walk.” “I’ll bet that’s really convenient for you on your weekends off,” he said. “Well, not everypony has a carriage with servants to pull it to come take them home,” she shot back, before instantly regretting it.  “I’m sorry, Lofty Tale.  That was rude of me.”   But Lofty Tale was laughing. “Please, just call me Lofty.  I don’t always need to be reminded about my family name; trust me, I remember what it is,” he said, laughing more. “Is it hard?  Living up to your family name?” Emberglow asked.  Lofty shook his head, putting the last piece of his laundry into the washing machine and closing the door.   “Nah, my story isn’t that kind of story.  Sure, my grandpa Righteous Tale likes to go on and on about ‘duty and name and family honor’ and blah blah blah, but I’ve never let it bother me much.  I have to be my own stallion, right?  I had to decide a long time ago if I was going to be a Knight for myself, or for my name.  I picked myself.” Emberglow decided right then that she liked him.  He was confident, and knew what he wanted.  Lofty reminded her of herself. “Honestly, that’s why I wanted to seek you out, and introduce myself.  You remind me of myself,” he continued, unconsciously mimicking her own thoughts.  “So, you know about my silly name.  Where does yours come from?” “My parents couldn’t have foals at first,” she said.  “The doctors said it might be impossible, and there was no way they could afford fertility treatments.  When my mom got pregnant with me, they said it was a miracle.  It was a really hard pregnancy, and she almost lost me a couple of times.  When I was born, they named me Emberglow.  My mom said, ‘the fires of my hope for having a foal had nearly died, leaving nothing but glowing embers in their place.’” “That’s beautiful.  Kinda poetic,” Lofty said with a nod, his eyes unfocused a bit.  “So much cooler than mine.  ‘Hey, let’s put all the adjectives we can think of that will work with the name ‘Tale’ in an impossibly fashionable hat then draw one at random.’”   “That can’t be how your name was really picked,” Emberglow giggled, and Lofty laughed. “No, not really, but it makes a fun story,” he admitted through his laughter.  She grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and applied more to her sponge.  “ Is it working?” he asked. “Better than water or soap, yes,” Emberglow said.  “Thanks.” “No problem,” he replied.  “It seemed like a good idea for a friendship ice breaker, you know?  Originally I was going to try and rescue you from your bullies, but…” he trailed off.  Emberglow looked at him, surprised at the frank statement.  She was quiet for a moment, so he kept talking.  “You don’t seem like the type that really needs rescuing.” “Thanks, I guess?” she said.  “So that’s what this is?  An attempt at friendship?” “Well, I figure you’re safe.  One of the few ponies in here I can make friends with without any ulterior motives,” Lofty replied.  “There’s lots of ponies here that would see friendship with me as an accomplishment, some bauble to be acquired.” “You’re incredibly honest, you know that?” Emberglow teased.  “Haven’t you ever heard of a filter?” “I don’t think I need much of one with you.  Or am I wrong?” Lofty asked. “No, you’re not,” she responded.  “So, we’re friends now?”   Lofty grinned and nodded.   “Friends that help each other scrub sap out of sheets?” Emberglow suggested. He laughed, walking over to the sink.  “Sure, as long as you’re willing to help me with our rune magic test on Friday,” Lofty shot back as he grabbed another sponge, soaking it in alcohol and grabbing another section of the sheet. “Oh, so now who’s got ulterior motives?” Emberglow said slyly, and Lofty shrugged. “Why not?  You’re one of the best in the class.  At everything.” “Not martial arts,” Emberglow corrected. “That’s fine.  Maybe we can help each other.  You practice hitting me, and I’ll practice shielding myself with runes.  It’s a win-win.” She squinted at him. “We haven’t even started practicing rune magic for real, Lofty.  How can you…?” “Oh, hush.  I’m just being silly,” Lofty interrupted.  “You can help me with memorizing the runes in exchange, okay?” “Deal,” Emberglow nodded. The two ponies laughed and talked while they scrubbed the sap out of Emberglow’s sheets.  Once the task was done as well by hoof as it could possibly be, Emberglow shoved them into the washing machine next to Lofty Tale’s laundry, to be left until the day’s classes were finished.  They walked together out of the basement where the laundry room was held, and across the courtyard of the campus that held the dorms, several training fields, and classrooms for the pages. The whole time Emberglow was filled with warmth; she’d been here three months, and this was the first time she’d made a friend.  Lofty Tale was well spoken, intelligent, and genuine.  But maybe she might have to squash those hints that he may be flirting with her, just a bit. The instructor for their next class, Diarchy History, was Sir Heavenseeker, an elderly pegasus who’d lost one of his wings decades ago in combat with some dragons.  Emberglow loved him; he was brilliant and passionate, and his lectures were always interesting.  His teaching style involved giving lectures and then asking thoughtful questions, and he had no problem letting a class stew in awkward silence as they tried to piece together what he was trying to teach them by the questions he was asking.  Emberglow really enjoyed that style of class.  There were no assigned seats; Emberglow usually found a desk near the front of the class.  This time she actually had a friend right next to her, and it filled her with unfamiliar and unexpected warmth. “Today, we’re going to be talking about heresy,” Sir Heavenseeker pronounced, as soon as everypony was seated.  This was not unusual; many of the significant events in Diarchy History revolved around fighting against various heretics and heresies.  “Specifically, the three Great Heretics, and what lessons they teach us.  Diarchy doctrine is a living thing; the more enlightened we become, the more we learn about the Saints and what they desire of us.  And while the three Great Heresies were some of the most terrible tragedies in our history, they are also some of the greatest learning opportunities.  Let’s start with the First Heretic.  Somepony summarize him for us, and what he did.” Several hooves shot into the air, including Emberglow’s.  Sir Heavenseeker pointed at an earth pony in the back of the classroom.  She stood to give her answer. “The first heretic was Sombra, a unicorn who gave into his rage and jealousy and used his dark magic to attack the Northern Empire.  He was defeated by the six Saints, only to reemerge years later and corrupt the entire Empire.  That the Empire is now not a part of the Diarchy is directly the fault of Sombra and his actions.” “Thank you, Green Fields.  Yes, that’s the short version of Sombra’s wickedness.  So what did we learn from the first heresy?  Don’t worry, there’s not really wrong answers.  Call some out.” “Unicorns are dangerous!” “Unicorns are corruptible; they can’t be trusted with power!” “Unicorns use violence and death to accomplish their goals!” “All of those things are true, but there’s a deeper lesson here.  Let me share with you a detail little-known outside of the Knighthood. In the second war against Sombra, were you aware that there were unicorns fighting alongside the Saints?” He paused a moment, taking in the stunned expressions on the faces of his students.  “Tell me, how does that change the lessons we learned from Sombra’s heresy?  Emberglow?”  Emberglow had raised her hoof. “It doesn’t, sir.  Unicorns can make righteous choices; it is how they are able to be reborn into other better forms after death, just like we are.  But that doesn’t change how dangerous they are, or their need to be de-horned.” “Well said, Emberglow,” the instructor nodded.  “Always remember, ponies, that as we grow closer to the Saints, we can continue to find insights even in stories we have heard a thousand times, like the three great heresies.  This leads us to the second great heresy.  Could somepony give us a summary…?  Highland Flowers, please.”  He pointed at a mare who had raised her hoof.  She stood up to address the class. “The second heretic was Sunset Shimmer.  After the events of the first heresy, unicorns were separated from the rest of pony society, for our and their safety.  Only, Sunset Shimmer and her followers didn’t like that.  She led her dupes to occupy Manehatten, terrorizing its earth pony and pegasus inhabitants.  The Knights laid siege to the city and brought the second heretic back to New Canterlot for trial and execution.”  Following her recitation, Highland Flowers sat back down.  “It may seem like the lessons of the Second Great Heresy are quite similar to the First,” Sir Heavenseeker mused.  “Anypony have any insight into how they might be different?  What more can we learn from the Second Great Heresy?” This time ponies were silent for a moment, thinking about the question.  It did seem like the lessons were the same.  Sir Heavenseeker let his students think for a few minutes before speaking.  As usual, he didn’t give them the answer himself, instead adding more information to help them think it out themselves. “I have heard the same tragic story a hundred times; a mother gives birth to a foal, only to find out that the foal is a unicorn.  The mare is heartbroken; how could the Saints have done this to her?  But instead of delivering the foal to the Knights Mystic, to be safely taken away to the relocation colonies and have its horn removed, the mare decides that maybe this once, maybe this one unicorn won’t be like the others.  How could this perfect, innocent foal turn out to be as dangerous as monsters like Sombra or Sunset Shimmer? “It always ends badly.  Every time.  Maybe the foal gets to be a child.  Maybe he or she grows all the way into adulthood.  But there is always an incident, an injury, an accident, a death.  It is never worth it,” Sir Heavenseeker proclaimed, and there was a hitch of emotion in his voice.  The class hung on his words, silently watching him.  “It’s not worth it for the ponies nearby, and it’s certainly not worth it for the unicorn.  So what is the lesson we learn from the Second Great Heresy?” “Unicorns… can’t live alongside ponies?” somepony in the back chimed in with hesitation.  Sir Heavenseeker nodded proudly. “Just so, Candy Cane.  Unicorns cannot coexist with ponies.  It doesn’t work in the short term, and it certainly doesn’t work in the long run.” “Sir, I have a question,” Emberglow asked, raising her hoof.  “If unicorns were never designed to coexist with ponies, how did things work before the time of the Saints?” “That is an excellent question, Emberglow.  The short answer is, we don’t quite know.  There is a lack of literature from that time period, as you all are aware.  But we can speculate.  We know some unicorns used their magic for unholy purposes, such as tyranny and domination.  We also know some unicorns tried to live in peace.  But the Dark Ages were a time of terror and uncertainty, with great ponies, heroes and tyrants that we know nothing about.  But the coming of the Saints brought us the enlightenment we needed to begin living the way the Diarchs intended.” “Any other questions?” Sir Heavenseeker asked.  Nopony raised their hooves.  “Then we come to the Third Great Heresy, the incident we know the least about.  Can I get a summary of that dark event?” The room was quiet.  The First and Second Great Heresies were distant history, but the Third had occurred only three centuries ago.  Far beyond the lifespans of all ponies present, but still more recent than any of the other events.  For the entire Diarchy, it was an open wound; one that kept festering. “Like you said, sir, it’s the incident we know the least about,” Emberglow spoke up finally.  “Um, the Knights Angelic walked out of New Canterlot City and declared themselves heretics.  They were led by the Arch Heretic, whom we know nothing about.  They changed their names to the Knights Discordant.  We… don’t really know why?”  The last sentence began as a statement, but became a question. “Yes, Emberglow.  We know precious little about why the Angelic did what they did.  But we can still learn a lesson from their behavior, and we can speculate.  And while we may not know the exact reason, that speculation can still teach us a lesson. “There are several ideas as to why the Angelic betrayed us.  Here are some thoughts.  Many historians and theologians have suggested that the Angelic’s very nature led them to fall.  They were messengers, scouts, and spies, especially to the outer reaches of the Diarchy, lands where the reach of the law is stretched and the authority of the Mystics and Vigilants are thin.  Generations of contact with undesirable elements, such as heretics, criminals, and mongrel races let small heresies begin to creep into the Angelic, a slow corruption that they hid from the Mystics for years.  They sympathized with those they should be working against, and it led to their fall. “In this theory, the Arch Heretic doesn’t even need to be a literal historical figure who presaged the fall of the Angelic.  Rather, he becomes a symbol of corruption and heresy. “A second notion is that of outsider interference.  Some theologians have suggested that not all the monstrous, immortal creatures of Tartarus were banished from reality by the Saints.  That one or more of them somehow escaped destruction, and it bided its time until it could strike back.  Taking the form of a pony, it slowly rose through the ranks of the Angelic, spreading corruption and evil on its way, until its plans came to fruition, and the Angelic fell. “Either or both of these theories could be true, as could dozens of others historians have suggested over the years.  But they all lead to one lesson: even the holy can fall.  Earth ponies and pegasi may lack the corruption of horn magic, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be corrupted.  Always remember this: only through constant righteousness, obedience, and vigilance can you remain a pure vessel for the will of the Diarchs.” Nopony said a word. Sir Heavenseeker seemed like he was on a roll, and he continued on with passionate momentum. “Many of you, hopefully most of you, will become Knights.  Though it is primarily the duty of the Mystic and the Jubilant to maintain doctrinal purity and keep us safe from heresy, it is the responsibility of all Knights to be ever watchful, both of themselves and their fellow Knights. “This also leads me to our last subject.  The ‘Day of Hope’.  Many Knights believe that the Discordant can be redeemed, or recovered.  I will not go so far as to call this idea heresy,” Sir Heavenseeker cautioned.  “But it often leads Knights to make foolish decisions.  The Discordant are not to be trusted.  Period.  They are consummate deceivers and manipulators.  Can somepony open their Book of the Saints to chapter twenty one, verse two?” Several ponies grabbed their copies of the Book of the Saints, shuffling through to the second half of the books to find the requested verse.  This time, Lofty Tale’s hoof went into the air first, followed by several other ponies.  Heavenseeker called on Lofty, and the stallion read from his Book. “’Beware the heretic’s bite; his teeth are hidden behind a sweet smile, but drip with lies and venom,’” Lofty read, his voice loud and confident. “Perhaps some of you could have recalled that from memory,” Sir Heavenseeker said.  Several of the students nodded.  “That’s good.  It’s always useful to have a scripture verse handy to recite in your mind if you are tempted with impure thoughts or ideas.” Sir Heavenseeker spent the rest of the class discussing the ways a Knight could be tempted, and various strategies for resisting said corruption.  It was a fascinating and useful conversation, and Emberglow was enjoying herself making comments and listening to the others.  That was, until the class ended, at least. As the ponies began to filter out of the classroom towards their next lesson, the voices of her tormentors rose behind her. “Wouldn’t it be awful to be so poor that you have nothing to do all day but study?” a mare said, projecting her speech loudly enough for Emberglow to hear.  Emberglow suppressed a sigh.  “I’d just die of shame, if that was me.” “It would be just disgusting,” said a second.  “I imagine the only joy you could possibly get in life is by hearing the sound of your own, insufferable know-it-all voice all day long.” It was the same thing again.  Didn’t they realize just how cliché they sounded?  It was like bad dialogue out of a foal’s story.  Of course, it was all so cleverly vague; if she turned around and confronted them about it, they would cock their heads to the side, ears back, eyes sparkling with feigned innocence, and ask her oh so casually what the problem was.  They would keep pace with her, just behind so she could hear every venomous little word, until they reached the location for their next class, Martial Arts.  It was a bit of a walk, as today’s class was being held in a field on the far end of the campus, rather than at the usual gym.  This had been her life, every day for three months. “It couldn’t be nearly as horrible as basing your self-worth on the misery of other ponies.  That would truly be hellish,” came a third voice loudly from behind the other two.  It was Lofty Tale.  “Hello, Green Fields.  Hello, Astrolabe.  I’m sorry, but your conversation was so loud I couldn’t help but overhear and chime in.” “Not at all, Lofty Tale,” Green Fields simpered.  “You can say whatever you want to me.” “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but it seemed as if you were speaking ill of the less fortunate,” Lofty said with affected innocence.  “It seems like such a poor use of your time.  I see no poor here, only ponies replete with talent, brains, and a great deal of determination to make the world a better place than they found it.” “Well, yes, but…” Green Fields stammered.  Emberglow tried not to smile at the mare’s discomfort.   “Unless you don’t want to support other ponies in making the world a better place.  But that would be incredibly silly, and certainly a violation of the will of the Saints.  Of course, you’re not like that at all, Miss Fields, and Miss Astrolabe.” Lofty said, his words running over her stammering. “Of course not,” Green Fields replied nervously. “Well, don’t be too slow.  I’ve heard something exciting is happening today in Martial Arts,” Lofty finished, hurrying his trot so he could keep pace with Emberglow. “You realize you might have just made things worse?  Stirred the hornet’s nest?” Emberglow whispered softly, as the two walked side by side.  Unlike Green Fields and her various flunkies, she did not want her own conversations deliberately overheard. “Maybe.  But I doubt it,” Lofty declared confidently. Emberglow thought for a moment. “You’re probably right.”.  There had been nothing subtle about Green Field’s tone when she spoke with Lofty.  “Lust is a powerful motivator.” “Lust?” Lofty asked, sounding confused. “You haven’t noticed?  Let’s just say Ms. Fields knows exactly who she’d like to plow her fields.  So to speak.” “Oh?” Lofty said, uncomprehending.  “Oh!” The mental lightbulb went on.  “Would it be immature of me to say ‘eww, gross’?”  Emberglow giggled. “Maybe a little.” “I’ll risk it,” Lofty said, and in a completely deadpan voice, said, “Eww.  Gross.” “I thought many stallions find Green Fields quite attractive,” Emberglow said carefully.  She certainly did; at least from a purely physical standpoint. “There’s so much more to attraction than a cute mane and nice flanks,” Lofty said airily.  “I prefer a mare with intellect and ambition.”  She saw him eye her, trying to be casual about it, and decided to deflect that line of thought with humor. “So you admit you have taken the time to admire her flank?” Emberglow teased, and Lofty glared at her, his face red.  “I’m kidding.  Thanks for what you did back there.” “I should have done it sooner,” he muttered, and she looked at him.  Lofty looked guilty.  “Everypony in our class knows you’re getting bullied.  Why isn’t anypony else doing anything?” “My mentor, Sir Steadfast, says it always happens to sponsored ponies,” Emberglow said casually, waving a hoof.  She felt a momentary pang of guilt; maybe she should have reached out to some of the other sponsored ponies.   “That doesn’t make it right,” Lofty said.  “Nor does it make it any less wrong for those of us who observe, but do nothing.  We’re supposed to be the best ponykind has to offer.” “We’re also just kids,” Emberglow shrugged.  “We still have time to become what the Saints want us to.” “I guess so.  It’s still nice of you to give those jackasses a pass, though,” Lofty said. “I’m not giving them a pass, I just have better things to do than let them get to me,” Emberglow said.  The path they were on rounded the corner of one of the buildings, revealing the empty grass field their class was meeting in.  There were three figures standing in the middle of the field; Emberglow couldn’t make them out.  Of the three, two of them appeared to be in armor, and one of them was clearly an earth pony in Knight Armor.  Emberglow’s interest in tonight’s lesson grew. “Is that… a gryphon?!” Lofty exclaimed as they grew closer.  Murmurs from the other students around them confirmed that he wasn’t the only pony to make that observation.  Indeed, Emberglow could clearly see the feathered head, sharp beak, and leonine claws of the strange creature as they approached.  She had only ever seen gryphons in paintings and photographs before.  He was wearing armor, not the magical armor of the Knights, but a mundane leather affair, with metal plates sewn in strategic locations.  He even wore a metal helmet.  “What in the name of All Saints is a gryphon doing in New Canterlot City?” “I imagine we’ll find out in just a second,” Emberglow said, her voice betraying her own curiosity.  The other two figures were more familiar, even if Emberglow didn’t recognize one of them.  The first was their earth pony martial arts trainer, Lady Amaranth of the Knights Adamant.  She wore her typical exercise uniform, loose blue dyed cotton with Saint Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark embroidered on the side.  The other was also clearly a Knight, and Emberglow’s excitement surged to see that the Knight was wearing the white painted armor of the Knights Radiant, complete with Saint Rarity’s cutie mark painted on the flank.  “Do you see who’s next to the griffon, though?  A real, live Knight Radiant!” Emberglow knew she sounded a bit like a fanfilly.  She didn’t care.  She’d never had a chance to speak with one of Saint Rarity’s Knights before; she’d read plenty of stories and newspaper articles, and of course she’d met Knights from the other orders, like Sir Steadfast and Lady Ruby Berry.  But Saint Rarity’s was the smallest of the five Holy Orders, and Emberglow had never had a chance to actually meet one of its members. “You’ve never met one before?” Lofty said, as they stepped onto the grassy field.  “Huh, that seems odd.  Is that the order you’re going for?” “Yeah it is,” Emberglow replied, her eyes not leaving the mare.  She was tall and elegantly beautiful; the battle scar dragging down the center of her muzzle was an accent, rather than a distraction, from her dignified beauty.  The Knight’s emerald hair was a perfect complement to her pale, lime colored eyes and sky-blue fur.  She watched the approaching pages with a patient interest. “Class, gather up!” Lady Amaranth called out to her students as they approached, chattering and gossiping about the two guests.  “Quiet now, please.  Gather up, and mouths closed.  We have a special lesson today, with two guests.  First, I know you’re all a little alarmed about the presence of one of the lesser races here today.  Pages, this is Adorjan.  He is a mercenary from the Badlands.  He cannot speak Ponish, so don’t bother trying to have a conversation with him.  He’s here to help in our training tonight, and for the next four weeks.  He is the reason our next several class meetings will be held outside; all of the Seminary’s buildings are sanctified, so we are forbidden from allowing heathens inside. “Also with us tonight is Lady Mercy Song, of the Knights Radiant.  Our training over the next few weeks will be grueling and violent.  Some of you will get hurt.  Most of you, probably.  She is here to be on hoof when something goes wrong.  But please, don’t assume that the presence of a skilled Knight Radiant excuses any of you from constant concentration or vigilance.  It doesn’t.  Understood?” “Yes ma’am!” thirty odd voices chorused. “Tonight we are going to begin learning how to fight against a unicorn!  Now you may be wondering, how can we learn that if there are no unicorns to practice against?  The answer is, you can’t!  But you can come close,” Lady Amaranth said with a grim smile.  “Can anypony tell me what the biggest difference is between fighting a unicorn Knight, and fighting a Knight from one of the pony races?” The class silently muttered to each other, stewing over the answers.  It was Lofty Tale who spoke up; Emberglow remembered her new friend was always one of the best in this class. “Levitation, ma’am!” Lofty called out. “That’s right, page!  Levitation!  With rune magic, we can mimic nearly every single spell a unicorn can cast, except two.  Levitation, and teleportation.  Of the two spells, teleportation is by far the most difficult, and only used by the most skilled and talented of unicorns.  Levitation, however, can be used practically at birth by unicorn foals.  Every unicorn foe you encounter will be able to levitate objects, attacking you from multiple angles and unexpected vectors.  That is why our griffin mercenary is here.  Though he cannot levitate anything, his claws will allow him to grip two weapons at once, attacking from unexpected angles. “One thing I must emphasize is this; as we spar with Adorjan, here, he will be using a specialized fighting style designed only to train you how to fight unicorns!  Griffins have their own way of fighting, and if you expect any griffon to fight as he is tonight, you will be dead before you have time to ask what went wrong.  Any questions?”  Everypony was silent; several were practically dancing on their hooves to have a chance at sparring with the griffon.  “No?  Good.  Here’s how tonight’s lesson will go.  I will begin, equipped with nothing but a single buckler.  My only objective is to not get hit.  Adorjan here will be equipped with two wooden swords.  His only objective is to hit me.  Just so you ponies know, our griffin mercenary is particularly motivated; each bout will be timed; you will fight the griffin for five minutes.  Every one of you he manages to strike within those five minutes is a bonus bit for his paycheck.  He is very interested in extra pay.  I can only hope you lot are just as interested in not getting your bones broken!  Now, I’ll go first, for a demonstration.  I’ve promised Adorjan an extra fifteen bits if he manages to strike me.” “She’s exaggerating, right?” Emberglow whispered to Lofty, who shrugged. “If she is, why do we need a Radiant?” he asked, and Emberglow shivered with nervousness. Lady Amaranth turned to the non-pony creature, squawking something at him in a language none of the pages understood.  The griffon chuckled, and screeched something back at her.  He reached down into the grass and picked up two wooden swords.  Emberglow recognized the practice weapons the ponies had been drilling with for months now; each wooden blade was deliberately weighted so that they had the heft and balance of a real weapon.  Each one contained a slightly flexible metal core, with a collection of bound-together wooden dowels.  Though they didn’t cut, they could still leave wicked bruises or even broken bones if they hit just right.  Lady Amaranth picked up a wooden buckler, and the two proceeded into an open space in the field. “Lady Song, please start the time,” Lady Amaranth said.  The armored Knight Radiant was wearing a stopwatch around her neck.  She picked up the stopwatch and pushed the button on the top, calling out “Begin!” to the two combatants. There was no hesitation, no pause, no sizing up of opponents.  Adorjan simply lunged, his wings thrusting powerfully to put him in midair, just above his pony opponent.  His right sword lunged, pointed downward right at the Knight’s head, while his left swooped in for a slice at neck height.  When Lady Amaranth blocked the first stab, the griffon immediately shifted, his slice sliding lower.  Lady Amaranth rolled away from the slice, dodging backwards and to the left. The griffon pressed his attack aggressively, but even Emberglow, with her inexperienced eyes, could see the oddities in the griffon’s movement.  Not once did he employ his sharp back claws, and neither did he take full advantage of the higher ground his wings afforded him.  He simply used his wings to create mobility.  Each slice or stab became hard to predict as the griffon dodged and wove through the air, always just at about pony height.  Sometimes both attacks came at the same time, sometimes he staggered them, forcing the Knight to dodge or block accordingly. Emberglow noticed that the griffon always tried to attack from as different a direction as possible.  She tried to imagine what it might look like if Lady Amaranth were actually fighting a unicorn; dodging and blocking multiple strikes from weapons held aloft in the levitating glow of a unicorn’s blasphemous magic.  She watched as Amaranth barely ducked under a vicious slice, only to have to bring her shield up rapidly to knock the other weapon away as it was darting towards her chin. For five whole minutes the opponents wove and darted around each other.  Each time Emberglow thought the griffon was about to land a hit, Lady Amaranth managed to weave out of the attack.  For a moment, Emberglow wondered what the fight would be like if the Lady Knight were also armed.  She imagined that future lessons might contain just such a situation.   Finally, Lady Mercy Song shouted, “Time!” and the two combatants took a moment to catch their breath.  The griffon floated over to a pair of water bottles on the ground, picked one up, and drank deeply.  With a laugh, he said something in his odd language at Lady Amaranth, who smirked and responded in kind. “Okay.  That’s how this exercise works.  Come forward when I call your name, and you’ll get your turn with Adorjan.  The exercise lasts for five minutes, or until you get hit.  First up, Astrolabe!” The earth pony mare moved forward with a nervous gulp.  Lady Amaranth handed the younger earth pony the buckler, helping her attach it to her front right hoof.  She then gave Astrolabe a gentle shove into the field, where the griffon looked on with slight boredom.  He muttered something in his high-pitched tongue. “Ready?” Lady Mercy Song called out, waiting for Astrolabe’s shaky nod.  “Begin!” Emberglow had to give Astrolabe credit; the mare had paid close attention to the earlier demonstration, trying to mimic Lady Amaranth’s movements as she blocked and dodged at the same time.  It was possible that Adorjan was moving a little more slowly than he had with Lady Amaranth; Emberglow wasn’t quite sure.  Astrolabe managed to block the first strike, and dodge the next two, before her third dodge took her right into the path of a down-rushing wooden blade.  With a dull thwack the practice weapon landed on her shoulder, and Astrolabe cried out in pain.  The griffon immediately back-winged, moving away from the young mare and halting his attack while Lady Mercy Song moved in. Emberglow watched, fascinated, as the right gauntlet around Mercy Song’s hoof began to glow as the Knight channeled her rune magic.  She painted three runes in midair, just above Astrolabe’s injured shoulder.  Her eyes glowed briefly blue, before she called out, “No break, minor injury.  It will be bruised, but nothing too awful.  Forty-one seconds.” It took the assembled ponies a moment to realize that Lady Mercy Song was reporting on how long Astrolabe had lasted.  Lady Amaranth nodded and called out for the next pony.  “Axel Grease, you’re up.” Axel Grease managed only thirty four seconds, with a badly bruised rump.  Next was Candy Cane, at thirty seven seconds, with a bruised wing and a few broken feathers.  Then it was Emberglow’s turn.  She tried to ignore the look of misery on Candy Cane’s face as the mare unbuckled the shield from around her hoof to pass it on to Emberglow.   “Ready?” Lady Mercy Song called out, and Emberglow felt her breath catch in her throat.  No, she wasn’t ready.  She was terrible at this class.  Well, perhaps not terrible.  Barely passing, maybe.  Certainly not anything to be impressed about, and wait a moment, had Lady Mercy Song said, “Begin?”  With an undignified squeak, she reacted before she could think as a practice sword swooped over her head, flopping onto her belly and bringing her shield hoof up, covering her face.    There was a momentary pause before she heard the griffon laugh and felt something gently tap her back. “Three seconds,” called out Lady Mercy Song, over the smattering of laughter from her fellow students. “Page Emberglow.  Would you care to tell us what happened?” Lady Amaranth said, her voice not harsh, but disappointed. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I was nervous and distracted, and missed the start, and then I panicked,” Emberglow said honestly.  She was burning with embarrassment, looking down at her hooves in shame.  She heard the snickers of the others. “Congratulations, Page Emberglow, you’re now dead.  Tell me, how badly do corpses care about nervousness?  Panic?  Embarrassment?” “Um, not at all, ma’am?” Emberglow whimpered, shamefaced. “Exactly.  Learn from your failures, Emberglow, and do better next time.  Hungry Gorge?  You’re up next.” Emberglow slunk back to the rest of the group.  She wanted to bury her face in her hooves and hide, curled up in a little mortified ball, but she took Lady Amaranth’s words as an order.  Learn from your failures.  She sat down to watch the rest of the matches intently, ignoring the comments from the peanut gallery behind her.   “Wow, that was atrocious,” Lofty Tale whispered from right next to her, though his voice was concerned rather than cruel or taunting.   “Shut it,” she muttered at him. “Still, it does mean you can only get better from here,” he mused.  “Besides, it’d be just unfair if you were good at everything.  You’re practically the smartest in our class, and you’re the best at rune magic, too.”  To be fair, the only thing they’d studied in rune magic was memorization and theory; they hadn’t been allowed a rune gauntlet to begin casting yet. It was fairly obvious that Lofty was trying to cheer her up after her failure.  Still, she felt like he deserved a little appreciation for his kindness, even if she didn’t feel like talking.  She reached out a hoof and patted him on the shoulder, and he shot her a surprised look.  They both said nothing as Hungry Gorge returned to the group, somehow managing an impressive one minute, twenty one seconds, and rubbing his sore muzzle. “You’ll do better next time.  I’m looking forward to tutoring you, and seeing how you improve.” “Thanks, Lofty,” Emberglow said sincerely. “Lofty Tale, you’re next,” Lady Amaranth called out, and Lofty grinned with excitement. “Wish me luck,” he said. “Good luck,” Emberglow called out to her friend.  Lofty approached the griffon trainer and strapped the buckler onto his hoof. “When did the Tale family start keeping pets?” a familiar voice came from behind her.  Emberglow should have known the fangs would come out as soon as Lofty was out of earshot.  She did her best not to react, but her ears twitched subconsciously, turning to the sound before she could whip them back forward.  She owed it to Lofty to pay attention to his fight. “I don’t know, but I never thought turtles were a very attractive pet.  All they do is hide their ugly heads under their shell.”  Emberglow wanted to scream.  Of course they would come up with a way to bring her recent failure into this.  She tried to focus back on the match that was about to start. “Begin!” Lady Mercy called. Lofty immediately began circling to the left, clockwise around his opponent.  The griffon didn’t hesitate either, screeching a battle cry and attacking with both weapons at once.  An easy swipe of the buckler would have knocked them both aside, but the clearly ambidextrous griffon had other plans; one of the swords stayed the course while the other snaked around the buckler to strike at Lofty’s chest.   Lofty noticed the gambit, however, and quick-stepped back, out of range of the thrust.  A second swipe from the first sword went low, and Emberglow was sure he would jump over the weapon; it turned out that Lofty was cleverer than she was.  Rather than jumping over the low cutting wooden blade, he sidestepped it, giving him the position he needed to block the downward swipe from the other weapon.  Had the earth pony stallion been in midair, he probably wouldn’t have been able to block the other strike. “Not only are turtles ugly, but they’re useless, as well,” came a third voice.  “All they do is sit there, eat, and get fat.” The pattern of the fight continued on.  Adorjan would strike at Lofty in ways that had predictable responses, setting him up for a second strike that would hit if Lofty responded predictably to the first strike. Each feint, each misdirection, and Lofty would respond opposite what Adorjan was expecting. The key was clearly to always respond unpredictably.  Or at least not get startled and flop on the ground.     Soon, even the bullying going on behind Emberglow slowed to a stop as the pages all became engrossed in Lofty’s fight with the griffin.  When they passed the one minute mark, Lofty was not yet even short of breath.  A near miss, where Adorjan’s wooden sword slid a mere paper’s width above Lofty’s mane, made the entire class gasp with tension.  But the timer kept going, and Lofty kept dodging.   By the two minute mark, though, Emberglow could see Lofty’s shield drooping.  Adorjan clearly saw it too; a side swiped thrust with his right sword knocked the shield out of the way.   The move was fast and violent; the griffon’s left-hand wooden blade impacted hard against Lofty’s forehead, just between his eyes.  Lofty stood still for a moment, frozen on his hooves, before his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground.  Emberglow was moving before she realized she’d made a conscious decision to do so. “Hold, page,” Lady Amaranth ordered, and Emberglow froze as Lady Mercy Song was already at the unconscious stallion’s side.  She watched as the Knight Radiant started drawing runes, this time more than just for the simple diagnosis spell from earlier. “Concussion.  Simple, no broken bones.  I’ll heal him.”  Her magical rune gauntlet glowed, flitting through the air in a complex pattern of runes.  The shimmer of magic surrounded Lofty Tale’s forehead and neck.  Lady Amaranth watched, concerned, while Adorjan took a moment to take a drink and rest from his bouts.  He seemed completely uninterested in the outcome of the healing.   “He’ll be fine,” the healer announced, after a moment.  Indeed, Lofty’s eyes fluttered open after a second, and he whispered something at the Knight Radiant, who gave a surprised laugh. “Two minutes, thirty seven seconds, young page,” the Radiant replied to his unheard question.  “Well done.” She extended a hoof to help Lofty Tale to his hooves, who accepted with a shaky smile.  Once on his hooves, he stumbled a bit over to the rest of the pages, coming to a stop next to Emberglow. “That was impressive,” Emberglow whispered.  Lofty nodded blearily. “Thanks, that’s a nice thing for both of you to say,” he replied.  She was confused for a moment, before realizing he was making a joke about double vision. “Not funny, Lofty.  If you’re experiencing double vision, that could be a sign that…” “Stop, I was kidding,” Lofty said, as the two of them watched the next pony in line stumble away after a less-than-impressive thirty seconds.  “No double vision.  Healing rune spells are amazing.” “How did it feel?” she asked. “I don’t know.  I blacked out, remember?  Kinda cold, I guess.  Like my brain just ate a peppermint.” “That makes… um… no sense,” Emberglow replied. “I did just have a head injury,” Lofty said sagely, and Emberglow laughed.  For the remainder of the session, the rest of the class had their chance fighting against the griffon.  Emberglow wondered if the creature was getting tired, but the timings for each of the students remained fairly constant, and Adorjan never appeared to flag with tiredness.  Though a few ponies were able to break the one minute mark, none came close to Lofty Tale’s lofty record.     “That’s it!” Lady Amaranth called out after the last pony limped away from his opponent.  “You’re done for the day.  If you need to, see the infirmary for something to rub on your bruises.  I expect you all to stretch, and any injury you might have obtained will not be used as an excuse to get out of the morning jog tomorrow.  Emberglow and Lofty Tale, I’d like to see you both after.” “I’m pretty sure I’m about to get told off, but why did she call you up?” Emberglow asked her friend.  Lofty shrugged. “You’ll be fine,” Lofty said encouragingly.  Emberglow wasn’t so sure. “Okay, young lady,” Lady Amaranth began as the two of them approached.  Emberglow’s head was low with shame, her ears pinned back against her head.  “That was a bit of a disaster,” “Yes ma’am,” Emberglow said softly. “Not really just a one-time mistake, either,” Lady Amaranth said.  “Look, I’m not trying to insult you or discourage you.  You’re smart, and you work hard.  Anypony can see that.  But you’re struggling in martial arts.  And it’s not a lack of effort.” “Ma’am?” Emberglow asked, confused.  She noticed that Lady Mercy Song had made her way over to the three, but the griffon was minding his own business, sitting alone in the field. “You’re a loner, Emberglow.  You try to do everything by yourself, and while for some subjects that might work for you, in this class you’re suffering for it.  Now, you’re a little older, right?  I was told you delayed a year before joining Knight training so you could finish medical school.” “That’s correct, ma’am,” Emberglow said, receiving an impressed look from both Lofty Tale and Lady Mercy Song. “Really?” Lady Mercy Song chimed in eagerly, earning an annoyed look from Lady Amaranth. “You can interrogate the doctor after my class, Mercy.” “Sorry Amy,” Lady Mercy said, shutting her mouth. “Now then,” Lady Amaranth returned her attention to Emberglow.  “This shows determination and a willingness to work hard, but your age might also isolate you, and alienate you from the rest of the students.  I’m convinced you can be better, but you’re working in the wrong way.  Weapon training isn’t something a pony can do effectively by themselves.”  She turned to Lofty.  “Lofty Tale, you’re not always the top of the class, but you’re usually close.  And tonight’s performance was most impressive.  Not just luck, but a clever use of observation and instinct.  I am very pleased.  You also strike me as a kind and thoughtful stallion.  I would like you to tutor Emberglow in her combat training.  I will provide a lesson plan and materials.”  She paused.  Both Emberglow and Lofty Tale were grinning.  “Why are you both smiling?” “We just came to a similar arrangement, ma’am,” Lofty said.  “In exchange for some help with my rune magic work, I was going to help Emberglow with her combat skills.” “Oh.  Good.  Great!” Lady Amaranth said, pleased.  “I’ll still provide you with some structure, so your tutoring sessions will be more than just a study session.  I’ll have my squire deliver the plans to your dorm, Lofty.” “Thank you, ma’am,” Lofty said.  “Um, there may be one other issue.” Emberglow looked at her friend in surprise, and Lady Amaranth cocked her head inquisitively. “Emberglow has to spend much of her free time in the laundry room, due to the actions of others.  It may leave us little time for extra tutoring sessions.” Emberglow’s face lit up with both anger and embarrassment.   “Why would…” Lady Amaranth began, but Lady Mercy Song reached out to her, touching her briefly on the shoulder with a hoof.  They shared a significant glance.  “Hmm.  Very well.  Should additional laundry sessions become necessary again, I’ll assign another student to take care of them.  Miss Green Fields, perhaps?” Emberglow gaped at the perceptive glance Lady Amaranth was giving her.  Maybe the teachers here were not as ignorant to the bullying as she had assumed.  Then again, Sir Steadfast had warned her.  Maybe the problem was hers, for not saying something. “I think that would work, ma’am,” Lofty Tale replied. “Good,” Lady Amaranth nodded curtly.  “Now if you ponies will excuse me, I have to escort our griffon to his quarters.  It’s illegal for him to wander about without escort, after all.”  She moved over to the griffon, conversing with him in his home tongue. “Miss Emberglow?  I’d like a word, please,” Lady Mercy Song said. Emberglow only nodded, a little awed.  This was the first time she’d had a chance to actually meet and converse with a Knight from the order she wanted to join, after all. “I’ll see you tomorrow.  Let me know if… well, you know,” Lofty Tale replied. “Yeah.  And thanks,” Emberglow said, even though she had reservations.  If Green Fields and her flunkies were stymied in their bullying, would they simply find a new way to torment her?  Or would they give up?  Emberglow was betting on the former.  She didn’t want to say as much to Lofty, though; it was kind of him to worry about her, and she didn’t want to give him more cause to be concerned.  She made sure to smile as she waved goodbye to him when he walked off towards the dormitory. “So you really finished medical school?” Lady Mercy asked as soon as they were alone.  The excitement in her voice was palpable.  “At your age?” “I graduated secondary school when I was twelve, ma’am, and immediately went into medical school,” Emberglow answered.  “It’s my special talent.  My cutie mark told me I was going to go into medicine somehow.” “Do you mind if I look up a picture of it in the school records?” Lady Mercy asked.  Emberglow nodded.  “Wonderful!  Um, and may I assume, from all that, the Order you intend on joining when you become a Knight?” Emberglow grinned.  The Knight’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Yes, you may, ma’am.  I hope to call you Sister someday.” “Good.  Good!” The serious tone did little to hide Lady Mercy Song’s bubbling elation.  “We get so few applicants to the Knights Radiant.  In a class this size, with over seventy pages, we’re unlikely to get more than three or four who are aspiring to the Radiant at the beginning of the year.  With our luck, at least one of those three will drop out, and will change their mind and end up in the Jubilant or the Adamant.  We’re already the smallest order, Miss Emberglow.  We need talented ponies like yourself.” “Talented ponies?” Emberglow said, suddenly doubtful.  “Ma’am, you saw what happened tonight.” “I won’t lie, Emberglow.  It’s going to be difficult for you.  You’re going to work your rump off.  But hard work won’t be your problem, will it, Miss ‘I graduated med school as a teenager’?” “I don’t mind hard work, ma’am,” Emberglow said, blushing. “I didn’t think so.  Now, when does your class start service weekends?” Service weekends were a tradition at the Ivy Seminary.  While in theory, pages were there to assist squires and Knights in their duties, the reality was that most of a page’s day was taken up by classes, homework, study, tutoring, and chores.  There was little time for more practical training.  So, as a tradition, twice a month on the weekends not used for family visits, Knights came to find pages to assist with various chores and small tasks. “The Saturday after next will be our third.  I’ve volunteered each time, but I haven’t been picked for anything yet,” Emberglow said.   “You will this week,” Lady Mercy Song said with a firm nod.  “I’ll be there.  Don’t worry, I’ll find something to keep you occupied.  I want to see what you’re made of, little pony.” “Thank you, ma’am,” Emberglow gushed.  A chance to prove herself!  To a Knight Radiant, even!  She was practically bouncing. “Now, if you don’t mind my asking, you are a sponsored pony, right?” Lady Mercy Song asked.  “I’d like to get to know more about you, if you don’t mind.  Who is your sponsor?” “Sir Steadfast Word, of the Knights Mystic, ma’am.” “I haven’t met Sir Steadfast.  I’ll have to introduce myself,” Lady Mercy said with a small smile.  “Well, thank you for your time, Miss Emberglow.  I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.” “I hope so, Lady Mercy,” Emberglow said, and the Knight nodded at her before walking off in the direction of the infirmary.  Emberglow spread her wings, taking to the air on her way back to her dormitory.  She didn’t fly often; it felt arrogant to her, to be in the air in this world of earth ponies.  But tonight her heart wanted to fly, so she did the best she could with her own wings.