//------------------------------// // Thinning the Herd // Story: A 14th Century Friar in Celestia's Court // by Antiquarian //------------------------------// Outskirts of Ponyville, the previous day... From her concealed place overlooking the Ponyville train station, the Great and Powerful Trixie watched... and plotted. When she’d first returned to the wretched little town, she’d thought to stride down Main Street with the boldness befitting her magnificence, there to demonstrate her might and cry for that miserable purple upstart to come and face judgment. Until the finding of the Amulet, Trixie had not realized the true depths of the insult that Twilight had offered her in daring to upstage her Great and Powerful majesty. Things had changed since she put it on. Little by little, the Amulet had worked on her, opening her eyes to its wisdom, bestowing insight upon insight. But, still, it had waited, holding back the full depth of what it might offer, waiting for the appropriate time. Now… now that time had finally come. Here atop this tree-topped hill, the Amulet decided the Great and Powerful Trixie was ready for the whole truth, which it had not revealed until that moment. Here, it showed her how all the glories her heart so greatly desired could be hers, if she could but defeat this new threat. Yes, things had become much clearer since Trixie had set eyes on... him. She did not know what the creature was – tall, coarse, weathered of skin and deep of voice, like a hornless minotaur or hairless ape, clad in black and bearing a sword. Trixie had never seen a creature his like in all her many years of travel. But the Amulet... the Amulet knew. The Amulet named him Danger, Foe, a servant of the Enemy. For the first time since putting on the Amulet, Trixie had felt fear, for the Amulet was afraid of this Enemy whom the lanky creature served. So Trixie had not strode into town like a conqueror as she had first intended, for the Amulet had warned her not to contend at once with both this Foe and with those six blasted ponies, who, rumor had it, wielded a great power themselves. Yes, yes it was more than rumor, the Amulet warned her. Now alerted to the danger by the presence of the ape, the Amulet sniffed out the power of the Enemy on those six terrible ponies as well, and it alerted Trixie that Twilight’s cabal had at one time wielded unspeakable power. Yet that power was dormant… for now. Thus did the Great and Powerful mare understand; the Amulet had illumined the wickedness of Twilight Sparkle, as a stage lamp shines solely on the villain and casts the rest of the stage into darkness. Twilight Sparkle - insect, vermin, worm - had known that she would bring the wrath of Trixie down on her. Sparkle must have sensed the power of her cabal would lie dormant so, crafty fiend that she was, she’d sought out this strange warrior, this Danger, this Foe, thereby to resist with their combined might the justice of Trixie. She had even gathered soldiers around her, lackeys to be cannon fodder in her war against the Great and Powerful Trixie. The arrogance! The gall! But now – Trixie chuckled – now that arrogance would be Twilight’s undoing, for she was sending her giant away, and with one of her five chief disciples to accompany him no less. True, the white unicorn had never struck Trixie as any sort of grave threat, but the Amulet was pleased at the white mare departing with the Foe, so Trixie was pleased. As the train departed into the distance, bearing away those who would oppose her, Trixie allowed the Amulet to offer its wisdom to her planning. She could see it now – pick off Twilight’s lackeys and followers one by one, then confront Twilight with her failure. Make her suffer. Trixie would drive her out and— … No… no, not merely drive her out. Trixie chuckled. That was too good for the likes of Twilight Sparkle, Usurper of Magic. Better to make her stay and bow. Trixie allowed herself a well-earned laugh, and offered the departed giant, now some miles distant, a mocking mental ‘thank you.’ After all, ever since she’d set eyes on him, the Amulet had been much more forthcoming. Later that day… Following the departure of Jacques, Rarity, and Oaken, the various ponies who remained in Ponyville had partially dispersed to go about their business, though they made the effort to know where the others were and to not go anywhere alone. Morning Song, after making her rounds of the town, had opted to make a patrol of the Ponyville perimeter. She’d asked Ironhide to accompany her, in part to ensure that the Lunar Guardspony became more familiar with the same terrain elements as the REF ponies (which they’d been mapping since arriving in Ponyville), and in part to get to know her subordinate better. Up to this point, most of her interactions with him had been in the presence of Oaken. She wanted to get a measure of him without his battle buddy around. They’d been patrolling Ponyville and the land around it for some hours and were now walking the border of White Tail Wood. The town was still visible some distance away – with the line-of-sight occasionally broken by the terrain – but they were far enough away to be functionally alone, with only the occasional cottage every thirty minutes or so to break up the solitude. “Pretty country out here,” remarked Ironhide. “Shame we gotta keep an eye out for trouble. Though if Pinkie’s Pinkie Sense says something ‘dramatically ironic’ is going to happen, there’s probably nothing we can do to avert it.” “Assuming it’s even us it will happen to,” said Song. “It may happen to somepony else, or it could happen to us but be a good thing, or it could be that we can’t stop it from happening but we can stop it from getting out of hand, or, or, or. Too many unknowns.” Ironhide made a grunt of assent. “That’s the trouble with Pinkie Sense, I guess. Just enough details to make us worry, not enough to clarify the ‘how’ or ‘why.’” Song glanced over at him, then resumed her study of the nearby treeline. “You seem rather sanguine about the fact that we’re traipsing about on the word of an inexplicable force of nature beyond even Twilight Sparkle’s understanding.” Though if Fritters were here, he’d probably say most everything officers do is beyond the understanding of enlisted ponies. “I guess after spending a few weeks around Pinkie, the whole ‘Pinkie Sense’ thing isn’t too hard to believe,” chuckled Ironhide. “Now, if you’d told me a year ago what Pinkie Sense was and that I’d be having to take it into my strategic consideration, well… I’d have politely said ‘yes ma’am,’ you being an officer and all, while privately not believing a word you said.” Morning Song smiled dryly. “I can’t say I blame you. Did Friar Jacques ever tell you he was convinced Pinkie Pie was some sort of Trickster Creature of legend for a solid week?” “No, but that doesn’t surprise me,” said Ironhide as the two of them started down a low path that skirted a string of rolling hills. “There’s a part of me that thinks she might be draconequus like Discord, just younger and a lot nicer, and she just makes herself look like a pony because she has more fun that way.” Song almost stopped in her tracks. “That’s… oddly plausible.” “Right?” laughed Ironhide. “I spent eight months posted at Fort Menagerie, surrounded by a half-dozen sapient species and two dozen cultures, and none of that did a thing to prepare me for the Great Pink One.” “The ‘Great Pink One?’” Song echoed, amused. “Did you pick that up from Fritters?” “Yeah,” he admitted. “It fits though, doesn’t it?” “Mm. True enough.” “It’s been night and day between Canterlot and Ponyville,” said Ironhide. “Canterlot was pretty quiet up until the end. Ponyville’s been anything but. I know the recruiting poster says ‘Join the Guard, See the World,’ but I didn’t really expect this.” “I don’t think anypony did,” murmured Song. Then, in her normal voice, she asked, “Why did you join the Guard, if I may ask?” Ironhide was silent a moment before replying, “It ain’t exactly a story for they’d use in a marketing campaign. I used to hate the idea of fighting. My dad was always getting into fights. Heavy drinker, had a temper, always ready to throw a punch… you get the picture. Mama took the beatings so that I wouldn’t.” Song’s heart was moved to pity. It was hardly her first time hearing a story like that – even in Equestria, where such behavior was fortunately rare, there were still louts and scoundrels – but it was still a terrible thing to hear. She sensed that Ironhide was in the flow of the narrative, though, so she didn’t interrupt. “One day he got real drunk and stormed out of the house,” continued Ironhide. “A few hours later, the cops showed up and told us a pony had been killed in a fight down at the docks. Three days later, my father got sent up the river for the murder.” At one time in her life, Song would have exclaimed “That’s terrible!” but experience had taught her such reactions were typically unhelpful in circumstances like this. So instead, she said calmly, compassionately, “I’m sorry you had to go through that. How old were you?” “Eight,” answered Ironhide calmly, with the tone of one who’d made peace with the reality of his experiences. “Not easy being the kid whose father murdered somebody, especially when the newspaper shills smelled a sensational story. Mama moved us to another city and she changed her name, but there are some things that stay with you.” “That sounds like a heavy burden to carry,” Song observed. “It was,” agreed Ironhide, “but it gave me a new chance, too. See, I’d only ever seen my father’s kind of violence. Cruel, uncontrolled, barbaric. I didn’t know there was a healthy way to use strength or that you could have a moral reason to fight. So, when I got bullied, I just took it. Then one day I saw a little colt getting picked on.” He smiled at the recollection. “It was like a switch flipped. I was scared but… I went over anyway. Told the bullies to buzz off. Think I called them ‘poo-poo heads,’ or something equally articulate.” Song chortled. “Truly, an insult worthy of Shakespur. What happened next?” “Oh, I got the snot beat outta me,” laughed Ironhide, “But it turns out I got a pretty thick skin. The bruises cleared in a few days, the bullies got caught and punished, the little colt became by best bud from school, and I got my cutie mark. Guess you could say I lost the battle but won the war.” “Indeed.” “The way I figured it, my special talent was protecting folks, taking the hit so they don’t have to,” he smirked, “which is kind of funny when you consider how Oaken is the meat shield way more often than me.” Song chuckled, and Ironhide continued, “I went and took boxing lessons from an old pony named Leatherface. He was like a father; a real father. He’d come from a hard life too. He could’ve talked down to me, saying his life was harder and I should toughen up. He could’ve been bitter about his life and taught me to be bitter. But he didn’t. He shared his own journey, its ups and downs, and taught me how to turn my suffering into growth. He taught me responsibility, discipline, self-control, how to respect others, and how to respect myself..” Song’s heart swelled with reverent gratitude for all such kind and noble souls who took it upon themselves to be parents to those who needed such guidance. “The world is better for having such folk in it. I’m sure he’s very proud of you’ve come.” “You mean how I’ve come to be traipsing along a low forest track on the word of Pinkie the Half-Draconequus, talking my temporary CO’s ear off? Oh yes, he’s very proud,” Ironhide remarked dryly, much to Song’s amusement. As they continued farther down the path, the stallion tilted his head in the direction of Ponyville, which was now fully obscured by the line of hills their path skirted. “Kinda inconvenient this track down here is outta sight of the town. We’re so far off I doubt anypony would hear us if the scat hit the fan.” “It certainly makes security a hassle,” agreed Song. Ironhide nodded slowly. “Yeah…” he said, his voice suspicious as his pace slowed. Song’s senses became fully alert as she surreptitiously scanned the area for any sign of what had set her companion’s danger sense off. “And it would be dramatically ironic if the ponies sent to protect the town were to be ambushed out on patrol. Like from behind right…” he whipped around and drew his sword to fend off some unseen attacker, “NOW!” Song spun tensed for a right as she cast her gaze about and saw… nothing. She gave Ironhide a censorious look. Ironhide scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I, uh, I figured because of the dramatic irony… there’d be like… you know, an ambush or…” he cleared his throat. “Maybe I should have thought that through better.” “Indeed you should have!” cried out an imperious voice, seemingly from all around them. There was a sharp *snap* of magic and a burst of smoke, and there on the path appeared a mare. She was blue, clad in magician’s hat and cloak and wearing a black amulet set with a red jewel around her neck. The strange mare reared on her hind legs and proclaimed, “For the Great and Powerful Trixie appears at no time but her own!” At the blue mare’s voice, Song’s hoof had snapped instinctively to one of her concealed knives. Now she attempted to pass the movement off as mere surprise, and she tapped her hoof on her armor like a nervous tic. Song had never heard of this ‘Trixie,’ but under the circumstances she was inclined to cautious suspicion. “You certainly make a grand entrance, oh Great and Powerful Trixie,” she said, having learned from past experience that ponies who referred to themselves in the third person typically disliked being called by such common titles as ‘miss.’ “May I inquire what business such a great personage as yourself may have in Ponyville?” She kept her head bent forward as though in a half-bow as she said this, hoping with her deference to distract from the fact that she was fanning out to the right. Ironhide, to Song’s pleasure, kept his sword low and non-threatening and his mouth shut as he slowly fanned out to the left. “You may inquire, peasant,” replied Trixie with the tone of one deigning to speak to a lesser being, her head held high with haughty dignity. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has business with a loathsome pretender to greatness by the name of Twilight Sparkle.” The name she spat as a curse, and at their utterance her eyes flashed as red as the jewel. Oh, that’s never a good sign, thought Song. “Your Ladyship, I fear you may be disappointed in your quest. A train left for Canterlot this morning, and I saw Twilight Sparkle on the platform.” Song was careful not to lie outright, as it would be more likely for the other mare to detect her deception. Such a tactic of omission had proven successful on other occasions. Trixie’s scornful laugh suggested this would not be one of those occasions. “You may dispense with your pitiful attempt at deception, oh boot-licking guard,” snapped Trixie, “and with your even more pitiful misdirection. Did you really think the Great and Powerful Trixie would not see you and your compatriot’s attempt to flank her, or that a magician of her caliber would fail to spot the concealed blades hidden within the cut of your armor?” Well, horseapples, thought Song. “The Great and Powerful Trixie ought to smite you for your impudence!” proclaimed the blue mare, her eyes flashing red. Then, she blinked rapidly and her natural color returned. “Still,” she continued, her tone hinting at concern, “the Great and Powerful Trixie is magnanimous; she… she admires the spunk of one who would attempt slight-of-hoof even against the Master of the Magician’s Arts.” Trixie smiled, almost as though she was relieved by her own explanation. “Yes, that’s it, Trixie could find use for you, if you would but forsake the lies of wretched Twilight Sparkle. When that impudent purple Usurper is forced to bow to Trixie, then perhaps Trixie would show her favor to those who wisely recognize her magnificence!” Song’s mind raced as she analyzed the megalomaniac’s psyche on the fly. She briefly considered pretending to go along with the scheme, but quickly dismissed the idea. If she noticed my simpler attempts at deception, she’d probably notice if I tried to play the lackey. Besides… her mind went to the red-jeweled amulet, I’m betting that thing is twisting her perception, probably in return for a power-boost since not many ponies can teleport. Better to play to her ego. “Oh Great and Powerful Trixie, you are truly gracious, but I feel I must clarify whom we serve. My companion and I are pledged to the service of the noble and wise Princess Celestia, not this common purple mare.” She deliberately put scorn into her voice when referring to Twilight. “Surely, if such a great mare as yourself were to bring your case against this ‘Usurper’ to the princess, then she, recognizing your quality, would see to it that you’re given your proper due.” For a moment, Trixie seemed to consider the suggestion. Her face lit up with the fantasy of the immortal ruler deciding in her favor, bestowing titles and accolades with generosity worthy of her station. For a moment, Trixie’s eyes declared her agreement, and she opened her mouth to cry ‘Yes!’ Then the amulet pulsed red. Trixie’s eyes flashed, and her face screwed up first with consternation, then with rage. “No… no… NO!” hissed Trixie. “That spiteful white nag has no more love for us than her purple minion! We shall not bow to her! We shall not bow to any! The world shall bow to the Great and Powerful Trixie!” Trixie’s horn sparked with power. Song grasped a throwing knife and made to fling it at the madmare. She had only half-completed the motion when a bolt of energy smashed her in the chest. The magic-dampening effects of her armor could only mute the impact, not stop it. Song was flung backwards and hit the ground hard enough to leave her ears ringing. She landed badly, and the impact knocked the wind out of her. She desperately tried to breathe as her lungs stumbled at the memory of how to function. Ironhide had sprung into action in the same moment as Song. Lunging forward, he swung his blade, seeking Trixie’s horn. He came within a fraction of landing the blow when Trixie turned that horn on him. The madmare blasted him with such force as to knock his helmet from his head and send him sprawling. “Impudence!” snarled Trixie, who reared up to trample him. Recovering with impressive speed, Ironhide swung his sword in an attempt to sweep her hind legs. He hadn’t the time to position his sword to slice, but the flat of his blade still knocked her down. He made to pin her, but before he could capitalize on his advantage, she caught him with a bolt of electricity that sent him writhing in anguish. Song staggered upright, sucking down air and commanding her eyes to focus on her target through sheer force of will. The agonized cries of Ironhide lent strength to her actions. She drew two blades and let Trixie stand back up – Song couldn’t afford to miss – then threw. The knives sped straight and true, but not fast enough. Trixie conjured a powerful shield, and not even Song’s enchanted blades could penetrate it; they deflected harmlessly off the surface. Trixie smirked, and Song braced herself for pain. She hadn’t long to wait. Trixie turned her electric attack on Song, and the soldier mare howled in agony as the shock took hold of her and contorted her on the ground. Time seemed to lose all meaning as her every sense was overridden with pain. Abruptly, the anguish stopped, and Song lay gasping for air. The smell of ozone filled her nostrils, and her eyes stang with tears. Her mind was too overwhelmed to make conscious decisions, but her instincts still functioned. Training drove her to seek the status of her brother soldier. She saw him lying crumpled a few feet away, straining to rise, but his body failed to comply. In the end, he could do no more than raise his head and glare. Trixie stood over him, cackling. “This one still has some fight in him, doesn’t he?” remarked their enemy. “Trixie is impressed. A pity you backed the wrong mare. You’d have made a fine henchpony.” Ironhide managed a defiant smirk. “They don’t… *pant* call me… *wheeze* Ironhide fer nothin’,” he gasped. Trixie raised an eyebrow. “Ironhide, eh? An unfitting monicker, as you appear to be flesh and blood. Let’s fix that, shall we?” Her horn lit with power as her eyes flashed red, giving her a devilish countenance. “No!” croaked Song. She tried to scramble upright, but only succeeded in smashing her face into the ground. “No, please, no!” There was a bright flash, a gout of smoke, and when the smoke cleared, Ironhide had been turned into a statue of iron. Song moaned in helpless grief. Trixie clicked her tongue chidingly. “Oh, he’s fine, don’t fret,” snapped the madmare. “A living statue, fit for one as great as my Great and Powerful self. As though Trixie would stoop so low as to kill…” she shook her head and talked as though speaking to someone else, “no, Trixie wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. We… no, she wouldn’t.” Before Song could ask who she was talking to, Trixie blinked rapidly, then fixed her haughty attention on Song. “What I’ve done is reversable…” she smiled coyly, “perhaps even reversible now if you cooperate. Tell me where the pretender Sparkle is hiding, and I’ll release him.” The part of Song that demanded she aid a fallen comrade was tempted. The sight of Ironhide imprisoned in metallic body was distressing in ways she couldn’t express. But she was a soldier, as was Ironhide. Morning Song would not betray their charges, not even to save her brother-in-arms. She clamped her jaw shut in defiance. Rather than enraging Trixie, the display seemed to amuse her. “So, you refuse to speak, eh? Not even to give your ‘name, rank, and serial number?’ That’s delicious.” Her horn lit, and Song fully anticipated to be transformed like Ironhide, but Trixie was just stealing her dog tags and unit designation. “Let’s see here, ‘1st Lieutenant Song, Morning,” Trixie read aloud, “serial number 8015-blah blah blah… 2nd Battalion, 3rd Expeditionary— oo~oh!” She sqealed with genuine delight, and the redness left her eyes for a moment, allowing their true hue to return as she exclaimed, “You’re part of old General Wind Strider’s famed regiment, the 3rd Equestrian Light Horse, the great ‘Black Cav!’” Her eyes danced with stars. “Yes, Trixie performed for them six years ago while they were deep in Clan territory! It was late Fall, and the trees were lit up like fireworks… ah, that was a splendid performance! They loved it of course – one of the only crowds to truly recognize Trixie’s talent and…” she trailed off, downcast. Her gaze drifted over Ironhide, and for a moment, Song thought she saw regret. Then Trixie closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the red had returned. “Well… much too late for that now,” said the blue mare quietly. She gave Song a hard look and said, “Song is your name? Then songs shall you sing.” Trixie’s horn flared, and Morning Song shut her eyes against the all-consuming glare that passed through armor and flesh. Then a darkness like unconsciousness claimed her, and she lost herself in the void. How much time passed, Song couldn’t say. When she opened her groggy eyes, the first thing she saw was the bars. Steel-grey, trimmed with red and gold, like her armor. She made to let out a groan— “Tweet tweet!” The noise startled Song, as did the angular feel of her mouth. A shadow fell on her, and she looked up to see Trixie… a much, much larger Trixie… smirking down at her. Song hopped back in shock and landed on— Two legs? Wait, why do my feet feel so different?! She called out in alarm, but only tweets and chirps came out. She brought her forehooves to her mouth and saw— Wings. White feathered wings traced with black and gold plumage. Then, she understood. Trixie had turned her into a bird and made a cage of her armor. An evil chortle caused her to look up again. “Aw, what’s the matter little songbird?” mocked Trixie. “Cage not to your liking?” Song glared. “Well, you ought to be grateful. When you’re feeling less petulant, you’ll have the honor of serenading my Great and Powerful self. And, better yet,” Trixie leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “You’ll have the pleasure of knowing that you helped Trixie see even more clearly how much Greater and Powerfuller she is.” “Chirp chirp!” replied Song, which wasn’t much of a taunt, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. “Trixie agrees, she does look good in blue,” responded Trixie. “And now, for her next trick, Trixie shall make the three of us disappear!” And in a puff of smoke, she did just that. With Trixie’s vanishing act, that section of the White Tail Woods was deserted. Or rather, it was almost deserted. For there, perched in a tree nearby, was a thrush who had witnessed the entire affair. The thrush did not typically bother with the matters of ponies. He was, after all, a simple creature with simple drives. Even had he been a more complex entity, he was unable to communicate with ponies, save for Shy-Mare-Who-Flutters. Other ponies typically weren’t worth the effort. On this occasion, however, he would make an exception. He recognized Singing-Mare-With-Shell and Pointy-Colt-With-Shell as being some of those ponies with shiny shells who had arrived recently. The Shiny-Shelled-Ponies were friends with Shy-Mare-Who-Flutters, but Pointy-Loud-Blue-Mare was clearly not friends with them. And, if she was not friends with the Shiny-Shelled- Ponies, then she was probably not friends with Shy-Mare-Who-Flutters. The thrush waited quietly, until he was sure that Pointy-Loud-Blue-Mare was well and truly gone. Then he took to the wind and set off in search of Shy-Mare-Who-Flutters. He only hoped he could find her in time. As it happened, the thrush was not the only one looking for Fluttershy. The serenity of her cottage was disturbed by the airborne arrival of Rainbow Dash and Marble Slab, the former of whom looked much more upset than the latter. Not that I can blame her, thought Marble. In her place, I’d be worried about Fluttershy too. When the Bearers and their companions had left the train station, they’d all agreed to keep tabs on each other and be particularly cautious about security. Part of that meant making some other pony in the group knew where one was at all times. Rainbow and Marble had geared up to do some sparing (which served as both an excuse to do some aerial patrols and an excuse to be openly armed) and had been under the impression that Fluttershy was at Rarity’s taking care of her cat. But, when they’d swung by to check in on her, only Sweetie Belle had been there. The young unicorn had told them Fluttershy had already come and gone, and wasn’t sure where she’d went. This led directly to an air sprint for Fluttershy’s cottage, and readily explained Dash’s less-than-sanguine demeanor. Dash sped to the door, landed with an audible impact, and immediately began pounding on the wood. “Fluttershy!” she shouted. “Fluttershy, are you in there!?” She banged harder on the door. “Answer me for Celestia’s sake!” “Rainbow,” interjected Marble mildly, “I don’t think she’s home—” “Fluttershy, answer the dang door!” shouted Dash as she threatened to put a dent in the wood. Huffing, Marble tried again. “Rainbow Dash, if you’d just take a moment to calm down—” “Fluttershy! Answer the door!” Marble noticed there was now definitely a dent in the door. Rolling his eyes, he barked in military fashion, “Officer Dash, may I have a moment of your time?” At the word ‘officer,’ Rainbow stopped pounding. She looked askance at the staff sergeant. “I thought I told you not to mess with the whole ‘officer’ business.” The red stallion raised an eyebrow. “Got your attention, didn’t it?” Less-than-amused, Rainbow snapped, “Well, I’m listening. Spit it out.” “As I said on the way out here,” said Marble patiently, “I think you’re overreacting—” “Overreacting?” snarled Dash, who zipped over to flap mere centimeters from Marble’s face. “Overreacting? You heard Pinkie Pie! Something dramatically ironic is going to happen, we’ve got Shades on the prowl, and Morning Song said we need to hang near each other and keep our eyes peeled for anything suspicious! And Fluttershy picks today of all days to go flying off wherever?! Why are you not worried?!” Carefully, Marble replied, “Because even if something is wrong, worrying about it isn’t going to do anything except cloud our judgments. If, and I repeat if we need to be concerned, then that’s all the more reason to keep calm and act rationally. And,” he added pointedly, “if I may say, Flight Officer, it is the duty of an officer in particular to remain cool under pressure. That’s certainly what the Bolts look for in candidates.” His words had the desired effect. Rainbow Dash returned the personal space she’d borrowed from him and backed up to land a few feet away. Plainly unhappy, she was at least calmer now. “Would the staff sergeant care to make a suggestion?” she asked, all acid. “The staff sergeant would,” replied the squat soldier, which at least earned a grudging half-snort of laughter from Dash. “If Fluttershy isn’t here, then perhaps one of her animals knows where she is. Now, neither of us can speak their language, but I’ll bet that bunny of hers is smart enough to pantomime.” “Yeah, he’s smart all right,” growled Dash. “Smart, ornery, vindictive, and probably running some sort of critter mafia.” “He’s also right behind you,” added Marble. Dash turned and, sure enough, Angel Bunny was sitting on the windowsill by the front door, glaring at her with his paws on his hips, foot tapping impatiently. “Oh, uh, hi Angel Bunny,” said Dash. Angel Bunny pointed meaningfully at the dented front door and his glare intensified. Dash winced and rubbed the back of her head. “Look, uh, I’ll fix her door later. Or I’ll get Applejack to do it,” she muttered under her breath, “but there’s no time for that now! We need you to tell us where Fluttershy is.” Angel raised a scathing eyebrow. “Argh! Look, fluff butt, Fluttershy might be in trouble! We need to find her!” At this, Angel’s hostility fell away, replaced by convinction. He hopped down out of sight and returned a moment later with a box of critter food, which he pointed at emphatically. “Great, charades,” grumbled Dash. “Food box.” Angel turned it over and shook it, but only crumbs fell out. “Empty food box.” Angel tossed away the empty food box and pulled out a golden bit. “Okay, money, Fluttershy is… Fluttershy is going to town to buy food?” Angel nodded emphatically. Dash breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Angel. I’m sorry about the fluff butt comment. I promise I’ll get the door fixed later.” She flapped into the air and called down, “How was that, Marble Slab?” Marble nodded approvingly. “Like a proper officer, ma’am. Now we’ll just—” he saw Angel’s eyes widen with fear as the bunny looked at something behind him. He felt a tingling in the back of his teeth from a magical charge. Snapping his head to scan the nearby treeline, he saw the glimmer of a unicorn horn aimed up at Rainbow. “Dash! Evasive!” he barked as he drew his sword and jetted for the attacker. His warning came just in time. Dash banked hard, avoiding the bright blast of magic. Marble put on an extra turn of speed, but just when he was about to reach his target, she vanished in a cloud of smoke. He heard the *pop* of a teleport – Bad sign! – and looked behind to see the magician standing in front of Fluttershy’s door. He turned sharply, sling-shotted around a tree, and made an attack run on her. Marble got close enough to see her smirk before a wave of magic washed over him, too broad for him to dodge. There was a *wvoom* of force, a bright light, then the cold feeling like stone covering every— And he remembered no more. The Great and Powerful Trixie had learned from the first two of Twilight’s lackeys that the purple usurper had come up in the world. Her footponies were no amateurs, but professional soldiers, dedicated and competent. It would be unwise to play around with them. After all, if one of them dared damage her royal personage, she might have to do something… regrettable. Better to handle them quickly, so that she might… she might… Why was she showing restraint again? So that Trixie may… have them as lackeys later. Yes, that’s the reason, surely, she thought. The Amulet found her answer acceptable. It was very important to Trixie that the Amulet approve of her reasoning. Thus, Trixie struck without warning at the shy pony’s cottage. She’d hoped to get that meddlesome blue pegasus first but, Eh. Things happen. At least now Trixie has another living statue. Honestly, ‘Ironhide?’ ‘Marble Slab?’ Almost too obvious. Rainbow Dash flapped overhead, no doubt stunned by Trixie’s triumphant return. “What… I… Trixie?! How did you…” Her eyes lighted on Marble Slab, and her astonishment turned to rage. “Turn him back!” demanded Dash. Well, at least she doesn’t think I’d stoop so low as to murder her friend. She opened her mouth to say as much, but what came out was, “Why don’t you come down here and make Trixie restore him?” Yes, that was what Trixie meant to say all along. “Why I oughta—” growled Dash who, in typical fashion, dove straight into an attack dive. Trixie let the pegasus build up a full head of speed, then fired off a magical beam. Moving too fast to dodge, Rainbow flew straight into the blast… then fell with style as her wings absented themselves from her body. “What the—woah! No no no no NO!” cried Dash as she continued on her ballistic trajectory. Trixie stepped aside at the last moment. There was a *CRASH*, a splintering of wood, and a low groan. Rainbow Dash had plowed head-first through Fluttershy’s door, becoming stuck with the broken wood about her barrel. “All too easily,” taunted Trixie. “Now you really need to fix the door. Here, let Trixie be of Great and Powerful assistance to you.” Before Dash could recover, the magician transmogrified the door into a stockade which held the wingless Rainbow quite firmly. “Much better.” She turned the stockade around so her captive could face her. “Now, have you anything to say?” The pegasus struggled vainly against the stockade. “What did you— how did you— what are you— give me my wings back!” Trixie tapped her chin as though pondering the request. “Wings, wings, now what wings could you be referring to…?” In a puff of magic, the wings appeared in the air. “Oh you mean these wings?” “YES! MY WINGS!” “Oh, dear, dear Rainbow Dash,” tutted Trixie. “There must have been some mistake. You see, these wings belong to Trixie now.” She tapped the alicorn amulet. “They’d rather complete the look, don’t you think?” “What are you even…?” Dash’s eyes widened with horrified understanding. “Oh no! No, no, no!” “Yes, yes, yes!” beamed Trixie as she levitated the wings to the side of her barrel and charged her horn to as-yet-unused levels of power. “And for Trixie’s next trick, I shall transform into—” “DON’T YOU DARE!” “The Great and Powerful—” there was a terrific burst of magic as the appendages knit themselves to her body, “Princess Trixie Lulamoon!” “YOU DIRTY ROTTEN—” What followed was a truly impressive display. Trixie had been insulted before. She had also been threatened. Beyond that, she had spent many days amongst sailors, firefighters, and other folk known for their colorful vocabularies. Her experience with insults, cusses, and threats was wide-ranging, multilingual, and thorough. Still, nothing had prepared her for the dissertation on verbal fury that Rainbow Dash delivered that day. It was, in a word, astounding, albeit far from the sort of thing that a fine and upstanding member of society like Rainbow Dash ought to be proud of. As Trixie was planning on being the despotic sort, however, she thought it best to absorb as much as she could of the dissertation, thereby to be better prepared for verbally castigating her enemies. She began taking notes which, in turn, only increased the vigor of Dash’s impassioned thesis. By the time Dash finished, the Great and Powerful Trixie was awed by the education Rainbow had given her, to the point that she was even willing to admit as much. “You have a fine tongue for insults, Rainbow Dash,” declared Trixie to the panting (and rather hoarse) pegasus. “Trixie has decided to delay transforming you indefinitely, and will perhaps consider engaging your services as a writer.” Panting from the exertion, Dash grated, “I’m… gonna… rip… out… your…” “No, no, save that for later,” chided Trixie as she pulled out a pocketwatch and checked the time. “The Great and Powerful Princess Trixie still has a schedule to keep, so you’re being sent off to cool your heels with the others until she’s ready for the grand finale.” She charged her horn for the teleport. “Tah-tah, now.” “You little—” There was a flash, smoke, and both Rainbow and Marble were gone. “—nag!” finished Rainbow Dash as she reappeared in a cave with the Marble statue. Sputtering outrage, the pegasus looked around for the object of her ire. She did not see Trixie, but she did see another statue – that of Ironhide, now forged of his namesake. The sight sobered Rainbow Dash somewhat, and she settled for grunting, “Well this is a real buck in the teeth. I wonder where Song is?” An irate series of chirps behind her alerted her to the presence of another living being. “A bird? Since when does Trixie have a bird?” She strained to twist her head in such a way as to be able to see behind her – no small task while in a stockade. While she contorted herself, she continued grumbling. “Come to that, since when is Trixie actually great and powerful? That was some Twilight-level horse pucky she was pulling there, maybe even higher than Twilight-level. How the heck did…” She trailed off as she finally managed to catch sight of the bird out of the corner of her eye. By straining her neck and eyes, she was able to make out a few details, like the suspicious coloration of the bird and its cage. “Ah, horseapples, is that you LT?” A series of angry chirrups answered her. “Yeah, hey, I’m not Fluttershy, okay?” interrupted Rainbow. “Just… one chirp for yes, twice for no.” A single, curt chirp answered her. Heaving a sigh, Rainbow relaxed her neck so she didn’t hurt herself looking at the Songbird. “This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Okay, Morning Song, I’m gonna try to get myself loose…” she began struggling, but was not optimistic; the stocks held her quite tightly, “…but these feel pretty tight. Anything you can do from there?” Two disappointed chirps confirmed what Rainbow expected. “Peachy,” sighed the pegasus. “So, while I’m struggling here, want me to brief you?” One chirp. “Neato. Okay, Trixie McPain-in-the-Flank’s a loudmouth who blew into town a couple years ago…” Now alone in front of the cottage, Trixie stowed her notebook and glanced down at the bunny that had been watching. “Well. That was something, wasn’t it?” The bunny looked up at her warily, but still nodded his head in agreement. “The Great and Powerful Princess Trixie was right to spare her,” said Trixie. “Yes… yes she was. It would have been… a waste to destroy her, yes. Just like the others. That’s why I spared them… that’s the only reason…” She blinked rapidly, cleared her throat, and declared, “Trixie has business to attend to.” She powered her horn and teleported away, wondering all the while why she was trying to justify her actions to a rabbit. As soon as Trixie had gone, Angel Bunny let out a sigh of relief. Then he hopped through the open door and whistled sharply. At his summons, a dozen birds flew over and landed on various perches nearby. They all cheeped and chirped worriedly to each other, frightened by what had transpired. Angel scowled and whistled yet more sharply. The birds fell silent. Chattering quickly, Angel outlined his directives to the birds. When they shifted uncomfortably, he sharply reminded them who they were risking themselves for. That rallied the birds’ courage, and they set off at once. Satisfied that his first task was accomplished, Angel set about gathering the other animals who had the best chance of making themselves useful to Fluttershy. As he badgered them into their jobs, he allowed himself another scowl. It was going to be a long day. Applejack kept a weather eye out for trouble as she walked the winding road from the Acreage to town. Beside her, Big Mac pulled the apple cart for market, and on the far side Fritters ambled along as well. He affected a casual air, but she could tell he was keeping watch just as she was. “Thanks fer helpin’ us take the produce to market, Frit,” the mare said. The lanky unicorn shrugged. Without his armor, it was plain how thin he truly was; even his saddlebags didn’t offset the effect much. “Well, it was either that or hide in the bushes – you know, ambush you, train up your True Sight, maybe pilfer some produce – but with Pinkie’s little warning I’d rather not give opportunity for the ‘dramatic irony’ to be you stabbing me because you mistake me for an apple-poacher or something.” “An’ just what am Ah supposed ta stab ya with?” she demanded “Ah ain’t even armed.” Not that Ah wouldn’t rather be armed right now. Amazing how naked Ah feel without a weapon on me these days. “I’m sure you’d find a way,” replied Fritters. “You’re a smart mare. Besides, I am armed.” He opened his saddlebag enough to reveal a spearhead, then closed it. “Maybe you’d stick me with my own pigsticker. Double the irony.” Applejack knew he was trying to be funny, but wasn’t much in the mood for laughter. All these years with Pinkie, an’ her sense has never made me feel more jittery than today. “Ah just wish we had a good excuse ta be armored like the ones out patrollin’,” she remarked, referring to Rainbow, Marble, Song, and Ironhide. “Though Ah reckon it might frighten away the customers.” “You just need a better marketing campaign,” said Fritters. “‘Apple Family Apples!’” he exclaimed with a bombastic sales-voice, “‘So good, we need armed security to keep the line orderly!’ You know. Something like that.” Almost in spite of herself, Applejack started to chuckle. She was about to reply when she caught sight of a tree up ahead on the side of the track that looked… wrong. Outwardly, it appeared to be a normal part of the scenery, but the sight of it raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She glanced over at Fritters and saw that he was also gazing at the tree in suspicion. He cleared his throat and said casually, “Say, Big MacIntosh, what say we stop for a spell. I think I’ve got a pebble in my hoof.” Big Mac slowed to a stop. His stoic face revealed little, but Applejack knew her brother well enough to know he understood to be on guard. “Eeyup,” replied the big stallion, before starting to unhitch himself from the cart. Before he could complete the process, the tree vanished in a cloud of smoke. In a flash, Fritters had his horn charged, ready for a spell or counterspell depending on what came next. Applejack, mentally raging over her lack of weapon, scooped up a hoofful of stones, ready to buck them at any enemy that appeared. Then from the smoke came a voice she’d never thought to hear again. “Behold, pitiful knaves, a wonder beyond your imagining!” The smoke faded to reveal—Sweet Celestia, has she got WINGS?!—“The Great and Powerful Princess Trixie!” Applejack’s jaw nearly hit the ground. Her every effort to comprehend the situation fizzled out before it could start, and she stared in mute, total incomprehension. “You commoners have such small minds,” mocked Trixie, who materialized a file to trim the rough edges on her hooves. “Armed security as a marketing ploy is crass and heavy-hooved. Clearly, if you want to draw a crowd, you ought to grow apples without those icky peels on them. Blech!” “Ah… buh… wha… no peels… wings…” stammered Applejack. She gave her head a fierce shake. “How in the hay are you supposed to grow apples with no peels?!” Fritters shot her a dry glance. “Really? ‘No peels?’ That’s what jumped out at you about this?” “And how in the hay did you get wings?!” added Applejack belatedly. Trixie preened. “Why, when Trixie’s greatness was recognized and she became an alicorn, of course.” “Mm-hm,” grunted Fritters. “You’ll forgive me, Miss Grand and Powder-full—” “It’s Great and Powerful Princess Trixie to you!” shrilled Trixie, her eyes flashing red. Red eyes. That’s new, thought Applejack as she collected additional rocks and Big Mac finished unhitching himself. “Sure,” said Fritters blithely. “Anyway, I trust you’ll forgive me for saying this … but those wings aren’t yours.” The farmer mare’s ears flattened in confusion and she looked closer. He’s right, the colors are wrong. They look more like they belong to… Applejack felt sick. Trixie’s face contorted in a snarl. “You miserable Ponyvillians are all the same! Always mocking and vilifying Trixie! Well, you want a villain?” Her horn flared with power. “I’ll show you a villain!” Four things happened at once. First, Applejack bucked a fusillade of stones full-force at Trixie. Second, Big Mac shoulder-checked one of the pulling bars off the applecart, hefted it like a spear, and launched it at Trixie. Third, Fritters activated his Surge ability, drew his blade, and launched himself forward at an incredible speed. Fourth… Trixie countered them all. The showmare shot the missiles with a spray of magic that transformed them into roses, which landed at her hooves as though thrown by adoring fans. Fritters, who moved with nearly the swiftness of a missile, very nearly managed to strike like one. At the last instant, Trixie threw up a protective magic dome around herself. Fritters hit the dome with enough force to crack its shell, and for a second, Applejack saw fear in Trixie’s eyes. Then they flared red, and her smile was cruel. “Gotcha!” she sneered. Fritters sprang back too late. Trixie shot a magical net that trapped him completely. The net pulsed with power, and its captive howled out in pain. “NO!” bellowed Applejack, charging forward, with Big Mac pounding along beside her. Trixie launched a fireball which exploded between them. Both managed to escape its worst effects, but it cost precious seconds. In that time, Trixie turned to the captive Fritters, who was attempting to cut his way out of the net with his own magic, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Scrawny thing, aren’t you,” remarked the bored showmare. “Skinny enough to be a spearshaft for that blade of yours.” She smirked. “A living spear would go well with my living statues.” Big Mac ripped up a large stone from the earth and hurled it at Trixie, but it shattered harmlessly against another shield. Trixie ignored him and wrapped Fritters in her magic. “Behold, as Trixie transmogrifies this stallion into a living weapon!” “Trixie! No!” cried Applejack. She charged again, knowing she wouldn’t make it in time. A bright flash blinded her, and when her vision cleared, Trixie was pointing a red- and white-trimmed spear at her. “The Great and Powerful Trixie would advise you yokels stay where you are,” sneered the showmare. “Wouldn’t want to break this spear, would you.” Applejack’s muscles tensed. A primal voice roared in her ears, demanding she rip and tear and rend the arrogant showmare limb from bloody limb. But she couldn’t. Hot tears of helpless rage rolled down her cheeks as she glared with such force that, if she could have turned her emotion into energy, she could have scorched Trixie from the face of the earth. Trixie smirked. “Much better. Now, Trixie would be willing to change him back at a suitable time, if you yokels would be so kind as to grow some apples without peels. Trixie is much too busy to peel them herself.” Applejack couldn’t even turn to look at her brother; her entire focus had narrowed to Trixie. “And just how do you suggest we do that?” she snarled. “Oh, Trixie is sure you’ll think of something. You lot are rather close to the soil, aren’t you? Though maybe…” her grin turned manic, “… you just need to be closer to the trees.” Once more, the hated mare’s horn lit. Applejack braced herself, but wouldn’t give Trixie the satisfaction of looking away. She held her gaze, unafraid as the energy washed over her, unafraid as her coat became like the bark of a tree. Unafraid as she took root and her barrel became a trunk stretching heavenward. Unafraid as she passed out of conscious thought and dreamed only of things green and growing. Trixie stood and regarded her two new apple trees thoughtfully. Already, they were sprouting fruit, as peeled apples grew before her eyes, reaching maturity in moments before falling to the ground like tears. She took in a deep, warm breath of air, and sighed in satisfaction, tapping the spearhead thoughtfully against her trees. “Splendid,” she sighed. “Simply splendid. Only two more to go, and then… Sparkle.” The Amulet pulsed around her neck. “Perhaps Trixie shall fly into the city as befits royalty.” She gave her wings an experimental flap. Much to her annoyance, they flapped out of sync, more flopping than flapping. “Tsk! How typical. The rainbow one’s wings are defective.” The Amulet pulsed again. “Ah, well,” she said with renewed resolve. “There shall be time enough for Trixie to perfect her wings when her conquest is complete.” With a flourish of her magic, she dismissed her trees and spear to her cave— no, not ‘cave. That sounds plebian. My… my ‘vault.’ Yes, ‘vault’ sounds better, befitting a princess. “Today, Ponyville,” she declared as she set her sights on the town. “Tomorrow…” the Amulet pulsed, “Canterlot.” Her grin was broad. “Twilight Sparkle, your punishment is nigh.” High above, storm clouds gathered, and the day grew dark.