So far, nopony has suspected anything.
The enchantment upon his glasses had been successfully modified by Keen Eye to hide his newest facial feature. No ponies have treated him any differently, thus they have not noticed. But perhaps that is only because they have not looked as closely as they would in a conversation?
"Shall we be attending the Grand Galloping Gala tomorrow?" he asked aloud.
His employer opened her eyes, awaking from her dream-walking. "I have not decided." So far, she did not seem to notice anything amiss.
"Why not?"
"I... do not know if the ponies of Equestria are ready to..." she trailed off. "No, that feels like an excuse. I suppose I am not precisely aware of the reason."
Riddle tilted his head. His mind made an educated guess.
"Your connection to the Element of Honesty works upon yourself?"
She nodded. "More than anypony else."
"If that is truly the case, why aren't you able to answer my question honestly?"
"I have honestly answered. I do not know the reason. Honesty will tell me if I am lying or telling the truth, even in my own thoughts. It will not tell me the truth outright. I must discover it for myself."
"An evaluation metric, not a search function."
"Correct."
There was a pause.
"Have you ever heard of the game called twenty questions?"
Even after they were done conversing, he was not noticed. The modification to his eyeglass enchantments seems to have been a success.
Riddle had thought that the Grand Galloping Gala would be an interesting change of pace compared to his standard shift. That is why he pursued and persuaded his way to that end.
He was now regretting that he convinced his employer to attend.
"Have your fears been allayed?" he asked.
Her fears that others would fear her, or hate her, or otherwise feel negative emotion towards her from her past as Nightmare Moon. This had been her true reason for hesitancy, drawn out after a series of yes-no questions that eventually allowed them to locate the honest truth.
"I believe that they have," she answered. "It is refreshing to see that high society ponies are no less insufferably ambitious than they were a thousand years ago. Your guess was right. Their desire for advancement occupies their minds far more than my past mistakes. Thank you for convincing me to come."
Was that last line sarcasm?
"I wish I could accept your thanks," said Riddle, taking it at face value. "But to be honest, I am regretting my decision to convince you."
Reading a science paper from Mr. Silver's large collection would have proven more productive than standing around with nothing to do but observe the partygoers. Unfortunately, reading now would be a faux pas. Conversation was the only productive way to pass the time. And even then...
"Boring?" his employer asked in a knowing tone of voice.
"Time-wasting," he nodded. "I would not mind if I could read, but that would be improper."
"We might leave early," his employer offered. "I never did care for this event. Even less now that it is filled with unfamiliar faces. I suspect the same would hold true for those not of noble birth. Or do you see somepony you know?"
"A few." From University. "Though none that I care to speak to. My pupil is meant to arrive at some point tonight, but I look forward to no other conversations."
"Then we shall stay long enough to greet him. I would like to finally see him with my own eyes. His name is Silver Wing, yes?"
"Or Silver Life, depending on how he presents himself."
"Beg pardon?"
"You shall see."
And she did, with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.
"Thou art-"
"A unicorn prodigy," Riddle interrupted. "As you and everypony else can clearly see."
She whirled on him, opened her mouth-
"Yes, that was a lie," he whispered. "He would rather not attract unwanted attention. Look at his hair. He is not an official prince. Do not expose him, especially given our company. No doubt some of these ponies would try to exploit him, as they have already attempted to weasel up to you."
Not that Mr. Silver couldn't handle himself. But his employer, who had frozen in place, didn't know that.
"Where is Ms. Memory?" he asked his pupil.
"With Twilight and Celestia," Mr. Silver answered. He shifted from hoof to hoof, as if anxious. "She didn't want to come with when I told her I'd be looking for you." Mr. Silver looked at him with unhidden interest. "You know, when you told me you'd be attending the event in your official capacity, and not the public one, I was expecting something a little more... outlandish."
"Is it not foolish to wear a plain cloak amidst a sea of expensive suits?"
The white pony that looked like a unicorn looked at his posh surroundings. "Maybe. I can think of something that'd be even more outlandish-"
"I did not complete your commission so that you could ruin the advantage of surprise in a prank, Mr. Silver."
"And I paid five thousand bits for it, so it's my choice how I use it."
"What are you two talking about?" asked the princess of night, inserting herself into the conversation.
"Nothing," said Mr. Silver in a tone of childish innocence. "But on the off-chance that a terrifying undead king makes an appearance tonight, can you instruct the guard not to attack him?"
Before she could answer, a commotion caught their attention. Even from the far end of the massive entrance hall, that pink buffoon drew their attention with a ridiculous song and dance.
"You know what?" his employer said. "I think I shall stick around after all. Perhaps this Gala will not be as boring as all the others."
Riddle frowned, and not just at the sight of the appropriately-abashed pink moron. He had been banking on the notion that they'd leave after Mr. Silver arrived. Now...
"In that case, I respectfully request a change in scenery."
"To the gardens it is," his employer agreed.
Mr. Silver followed... until they passed a certain pegasus of orange mane and yellow fur.
"You," she spat.
"Miss Spitfire," Riddle acknowledged, even as he perceived Mr. Silver silently slipping away. "Lovely party, is it not?"
"It was," she hissed.
"Come now," Riddle replied reasonably, giving a charming grin. "Can we not let bygones be bygones?"
"No."
"Shame."
"Where's Silver?" she asked, probably because the child's existence was the only common ground they shared, and even that ground was shaky.
"Not in attendance," lied Riddle. "Though you might encounter his twin brother-"
"What the buck?" came a voice from behind them – a voice Riddle also recognised.
"Language, Mr. Soaring," Riddle reprimanded as he turned around. "Remember your current company."
"Soarin'?" asked a high, childish voice. "Soarin' the Wonderbolt? Wow, I've always wanted to meet a Wonderbolt! My brother told me all about you! Of course, I didn't believe half the things Silver Wing said."
Mr. Soaring's look of wide-eyed astonishment was replaced with one of dawning (but false) comprehension. He puffed out his chest. "You shouldn't. He... probably exaggerated a few things."
"Totally," said Mr. Silver. "I mean, what kind of Wonderbolt can't handle banter? And I know a Wonderbolt would never attack another pony just because she didn't like what he said."
"Yes," said Riddle to Spitfire. "What kind of Wonderbolt would do such a terrible thing?"
"I'm guessing you've taken all his classes?" Mr. Silver did not let Soarin' respond to this intentionally false 'assumption'. "That means you can air-buck? You're so lucky. He hasn't taught me yet, and I'm his brother! I mean, sure, maybe the cloud-walking spell doesn't work like that, but you never know, right? I'm thinking of joining his classes when they start next month, unless I'm too busy. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, but I should catch up to my party now. Bye!"
Soarin' barely managed an "Uh..." by the time he realised the colt talking to him had ended the conversation.
Mr. Silver dashed back to where he'd been, behind Riddle and the night princess. "Sorry, I got distracted," he lied. Then, as if noticing Spitfire for the first time, "Wow! Spitfire? Captain of the Wonderbolts? Is it really you? I'm so honored to meet you!"
"I get the feeling I shall have to ignore my Element constantly this night," sighed the princess right in front of Spitfire.
Thankfully, the stupid mare did not put two and two together. Wearing a fake smile that even a child would be able to notice, Spitfire spoke a pleasantry so as not to disappoint the apparent adoring fan, then quickly excused herself.
"That was fun," said Mr. Silver when the three of them were relatively alone again. He was now practically bouncing in place.
"Indeed," said Riddle.
"You two are awful," said the princess of the night, wearing a warm smile. She gazed at his pupil curiously. "What 'classes' were you referencing?"
"Lessons on pegasus magic," answered Mr. Silver. "A relatively small, but impactful side-project. Not to mention lucrative. Over a hundred pegasi took it. Twenty of them passed all the way to the end, including three Wonderbolts."
"Why would the Wonderbolts take lessons from a colt?"
"Because that colt can do something they couldn't," Mr. Silver shrugged. "And still can't, in the case of those two Wonderbolts. Mr. Tome can demonstrate. He was a teacher's aide. By the way, is there a place I can go to the bathroom?"
His employer's eyes shot to him, then back to his pupil. "Ask a guard to direct you. Before you go, could you answer one last question?"
"Make it quick."
"Did any of the lessons involve shoving unsuspecting students, wing-bound, from a high cloud?"
"No, that was a test, not a lesson. And most of the class failed it the first time around. Sorry, I really gotta go now."
And Mr. Silver dashed off just as the Princess and her fool crossed the threshold that led outside and into the garden.
Mr. Book frowned at the light snowfall, then cast Thermos on himself, followed by the water-repelling charm. Wandlessly, wordlessly, and hornlessly of course.
"Is there any meaning or reasoning behind the Gala's scheduling," he asked as a distraction, "or is the date chosen at random?"
"I will answer that question if you answer a question of mine."
"Very well. But I asked first."
His employer shrugged. "This day has no significance, but 'tis the coldest time of year. Wearing suits and dresses is rarely comfortable elsewhen. Unless... well, that was the reasoning in my day. Now that we have invented... what did they call it? Air tampering?"
"Air conditioning."
"In any case, it may just be tradition at this point. Or maybe Tia wishes the gardens to be part of the party without discomforting our guests." She raised an eyebrow. "Is your curiosity now sated?"
He shrugged.
"Then it is my turn for inquiry. What could you have possibly been testing?"
So his attempts at evasion had failed.
Ah well.
Tact 2: Impress.
Riddle wordlessly cast a small silencing barrier around his lower body, then another spell to keep his mane and cloak unruffled.
"Observe."
A (soundless) buck sent him high into the night sky. Upon his descent, he executed a flawless air cushion.
"It was a test of competence, self-sufficiency, and safety," he explained to a wide-eyed princess and several gaping onlookers. "Anypony who could not slow their fall winglessly – on command and without warning – was not allowed to move on to the final lesson. I would also mention that the final lesson taught what every pegasus wanted to learn in the first place. Therefore, my student successfully motivated his students into learning an emergency safety technique for stopping all momentum mid-air."
The Night Princess did not seem to know what to say.
Riddle considered his next move for a moment. He had just seen another 'nice' thing that might advance his agenda, so he weighed the consequences.
It would be an excellent advertisement to any reluctant or still-bitter pegasi, as well as a perfect endorsement for Mr. Silver's theory. And a spit in the face of his old professors at Canterlot University.
The downsides...
He spoke.
"Lessons are twenty bits an hour for adults. If you wish to attune yourself more closely to your pegasus magic, or brag to your sister that you can do something magical that she cannot, I suggest attending at least the first lesson." At her facial expression, which suggested automatic dismissal of the idea, "I shall be there as well. If nothing else, consider it an opportunity to have my services for a few hours, free of charge and beyond our usual schedule. It is also an opportunity to get out more, which you said you've wanted to do."
"I... shall have to think about it," his employer equivocated. "You have a brilliant student, by the way."
Riddle thought about the compliment for a while, wondering what hidden motives might be at play, but seeing none.
"I do," he answered. The stupidity of youth notwithstanding.
She smiled. "Will you bring him with you tomorrow?"
He frowned. "Why would I do that?"
"'Tis... what did Tia call it? Bring thy youngling to work day? Something like that."
"That has been scheduled to occur a day after the Gala?" he asked.
"My sister wished for everypony, not just the 'lucky' few attendees, to have something to celebrate. Though when I told her she was attempting deception with that claim, she apologised for the habitual political answer and said that she invented the holiday so that she would find something about the week to enjoy. When I said she was still not being fully honest, she thought for a time, then remembered that she originally scheduled them sequentially to make them easier to remember each year. A Gala organised by others, followed by a national holiday proposed by herself, for all parents and children to enjoy."
"I am not Mr. Silver's parent."
"You do not have to be."
"Nor his guardian."
She paused. "Yes... he is living with Ms. Sparkle, the librarian... but then, does he not attend her work every day? I am sure my sister would allow the exception. And if not, it will not be long before I understand why."
"Is your sister ever bothered by your perceptiveness?"
"No. She is grateful for it."
"Most ponies do not like when they are caught in lies."
"My sister is not most ponies."
"What'd I miss?" asked the voice of his student, who was not wearing his terror cloak upon his return, to Riddle's mild surprise.
"Nothing of import," he answered.
The Night Princess said nothing, smiling once again.
But her smile was wiped away when the Element of Generosity made an extremely blatant attempt to woo him. Or rather, to have him woo her. With a rose.
"With respect, Miss Rarity, I am not subject to infatuation, nor am I interested in romance."
The white unicorn seemed to shrink in on herself. "Oh. I'm terribly sorry."
Under different circumstances, he might have been harsher. But the interaction with the Wonderbolts earlier had put him in a mildly pleasant mood.
"Don't be. Hypergamy is a natural instinct." And since he was in a good mood, he thought to ask a question he otherwise might not have seen. "Out of curiosity, and please do not take this as flirting, might I ask you to rate my appearance on a scale from one to ten?"
He should have posed this question long ago, to a random sample of mares. He did not have an instinctive eye for what constituted pony facial attractiveness beyond the basic markers of cleanliness, health, youth, and symmetry.
"Why do you want to know that?" asked the white fake unicorn behind him.
"Do you wish for me to rate your clothes or your... handsomeness?" asked the white actual unicorn in front of him, seemingly grateful that she could make up for her faux pas by proving helpful.
"It is useful information in the realm of politics and persuasion," Riddle answered his pupil first. And for avoiding flirty mares. If the number was too high, he could always lower it. "You should ask it yourself when you are of age. Knowing your number can be a great boon, for reasons beyond the obvious." He turned to Ms. Rarity. "And I would ask that you rate both. But separately. Start with my attire. You are a fashion designer, yes?"
Ms. Rarity nodded, her gaze becoming that of a competent critic. "Do you wish for me to ignore the fact that you should be wearing a suit?"
"Yes. Imagine you encountered me on the streets of Canterlot. Or Ponyville. I wear this every day, and I wish to hear what you make of it."
"In that case, I would say that it suits you perfectly. My own tastes would put it at a seven..."
"But ours puts it at a nine at least," the Night Princess chimed in.
The two mares locked gazes.
"Why?" asked the seamstress.
"Not least because it leaves little to the imagination. The lack of detail on the cloak draws the gaze to the wearer. After far too many fancy suits, tis refreshing to see something so simple yet elegant."
"A difference in taste?" Riddle asked.
Ms. Rarity nodded. "It is..." she glanced behind him. "Utilitarian."
"Yup," said Mr. Silver, who had been the target of her glance. "Think you could have pulled that off?"
Ms. Rarity shook her head. "I admit that if I had made it, I would have added many more designs. But I am told that stallions prefer function over form."
"We do," Riddle confirmed. "On average. Does that mean you find yourself incapable of catering to the needs of your stallion clientele?"
Ms. Rarity nodded, this time reluctantly.
"You know," said Silver, "if your special talent is design, you'll have to fix that if you want to fully live up to your potential."
"I cannot help myself," replied the mare. "I add details automatically."
"Perhaps you could try adding magical details whenever you feel the impulse, instead of physical ones," Riddle suggested. "Things that do not change the form but do change the function. Temperature charms to keep the wearer comfortable. Self-sanitizing charms to keep the garments clean. Stallions do not like wasting time washing clothes. Self-mending charms to ward off wear-and-tear. Size-changing charms so the apparel always adjusts itself to the wearer's body. Space-charmed pockets, as have been added to my own cloak. And Silver's."
The seamstress's eyes widened. Whether due to the ideas, or the implication, he couldn't guess.
His employer's eyes widened as well, and in her case, he did not have to guess whether she'd understood the unspoken inference. "So you did not lose your-" the princess began, then stopped short.
"No. I did not."
Her gaze again looked at his seeming flat back beneath the cloak. "Why hide them?"
"Why indeed," he said. "That is the riddle." He turned his gaze back to Ms. Rarity, who seemed rather confused. "Now, might you rate my..." he pretended to pause in thought. "How did you put it... my handsomeness?"
Ms. Rarity seemed far less willing to share this answer, looking down and mumbling something he did catch, but would not have been able to hear without the assistance of subtle magics.
"Pardon me?"
She looked up, visage varnished by a visible blush. "I said you are a ten."
"Ah," he articulated, pretending to be surprised at the answer he heard the first time around. "Interesting. Do you think other mares might say the same, or do tastes vary enough that they could find me average?"
"Others would say that you are at least an eight," said Ms. Rarity.
"Indeed," nodded the Night Princess.
Riddle inclined his head in thanks for the confirmation.
"Might you rate me?" Ms. Rarity asked, as if the idea had just occurred to her.
"I am afraid I couldn't say," said Riddle. "And no, it is not because I think you are unattractive. Beyond that, I would prefer not to elaborate. Please accept my advice regarding your life's work in place of an answer to that question."
"Thou art somewhere between an eight and a nine," said the Princess of the Night. "Thy dress is, of course, a ten."
The seamstress bowed gratefully, then hurried hastily away.
When she was out of earshot, the Princess of the Night asked, "Is it only to her that you would prefer not to elaborate?"
"No."
His employer looked disappointed, like she wanted to pry and it was taking a great effort not to.
"No, he's not homosexual," said Silver in a surprisingly insightful continuation of the conversation. "At least, I don't think he is-"
"I am not," said Riddle.
"Colts your age should not be aware of such things," said the Princess of the Night to his young pupil.
Mr. Silver shrugged. "It's not personal experience. I've just read a lot of books."
His employer narrowed her gaze at himself.
"No, I did not introduce him to those books," Riddle denied. "Unless I am mistaken, he introduced himself to those books when he was told that young colts should not read them."
"Spot on," said Mr. Silver.
Riddle nodded. "Most adults do not realise such words have the opposite of the intended effect on rebellious younglings."
There was a lull in the conversation, which soon became a full break.
Riddle began roaming the parts of the garden away from the other partygoers, and Princess Luna and Mr. Silver followed him. Eventually, they came upon a series of statues.
One in particular caught his eye. It was, quite literally, straight out of a story.
"This is Discord?" he asked his employer, who should know.
"Yes," she said, frowning heavily at the chaotic being trapped in stone.
"Explain?" asked his pupil.
"I would LOVE to!" came an echoing voice that didn't belong to any of the three ponies present.
"Discord!" his employer hissed, suddenly on guard in a way he had never seen before – wings flared and glowing horn lowered, as if preparing to charge and use it as a spear.
The stone statue did not move. The facial expression did not change in the slightest from its shocked and intrigued expression. Even as words emanated out of the object.
"Selena, darling, how kind of you to pay a visit to your old pal! How'd the Eternal Night business turn out? Was it fun while it lasted?"
"Do not provoke me, Discord."
"Why not? Ya gonna smash me to smithereens? Tear me a new one? Oh! How about you-"
"Relocate you a mile underground?" she offered.
"Hmph! You're no fun. Who're your friends?"
"Do not tell him your true names," the Princess of the Night instructed. "Aliases only."
The two of them exchanged glances.
"I am the Royal Fool," said Riddle.
"And I'm General Chaos."
"Oooh, really? A fool and a general of chaos? I like it! Did you bring these ponies just to liven up my lonely life, Selena?" The stone seemed to vibrate. "Aww, you shouldn't have!"
"We should leave," said the Princess of the Night. "Now."
They did, hearing a "Ta-ta!" before they were out of earshot.
"What was that all about?" Mr. Silver asked when they were back in range of the normal party.
"A sealed horror," Riddle summarised succinctly. "An eldritch god of chaos, rendered inert by the Elements of Harmony. Though apparently less inert than legends claimed."
"A consequence of a thousand years passing, no doubt," his employer spat. "It is in the nature of chaos to corrupt everything, even imprisonment, given enough time."
"Let me get this straight," said Mr. Silver. "A conscious being has been trapped... trapped and aware... for a thousand years in your back garden?"
"He has been trapped for a thousand years," the princess confirmed. "I do not know how long he has been aware. I myself was not aware for my thousand years."
"Why isn't he-"
"This garden is one of the most harmonious places in Equestria," Riddle answered. "The most harmonious, among locations that are under the direct oversight of the crown. When he escapes, the princesses shall know instantly."
"When he escapes?"
"Yes," said the princess. "Do not worry. Prophecy foretells that good shall win in the end."
Neither Mr. Silver nor Riddle found this particularly reassuring.
"Your true name is Selena?" Riddle asked, changing the topic.
"My old name was Selena Lullay," answered his employer. "Ascendancy to royalty changed it. Just as it did yours, Mystery Book."
"Hmm."
"Why did I feel a sudden spike of deception just now?"
Riddle raised an eyebrow. "That is a good question. I didn't even utter a word."
"Silence can be a form of deception. A lack of honesty. You were consciously silent about something important just now."
There was a pause.
"So I was," he sighed. "It has to do with my past. Do I need to remind you of our agreement?"
There was a longer pause.
Now his employer decided to change topics. "What is the Element of Kindness doing with that net?"
"Let me get this straight," said Silver after the brief session of observation and theorising. "Your sister wants to stir up chaos?"
"Not quite chaos," corrected Luna. "I suspect she would call it harmless fun."
"Sounds like chaos to me," said Silver. "What if it helps Discord escape?"
"Then we shall have myself, my sister, and the six Elements of Harmony – all wearing their elements – to deal with him. We are more prepared for Discord than we have ever been. If he is to be released at any time, it would best be done when we are ready. Though as long as the chaos is kept out of his statue's line of sight, he should not be able to use it to escape."
"And you're sure Celestia's actually encouraging it?"
"Yes. I know my sister. She hides it well, but she is aware, and she is amused. I am surprised, to be honest. She would not have done this a thousand years ago."
For a brief instant, Silver almost spoke his next sentence. He almost asked, 'Do you think your sister would mind if we bumped it up a notch?'
By which he would have meant an undead king's 'invasion'.
But something halted his tongue.
Maybe it was experience, or maybe it was the realisation that Mr. Tome, standing not five paces away, would have been disappointed if he didn't think about it first.
Alwayss assk after other'ss advantage. Next learn to alwayss assk after your own.
Other than 'fun', messing with the Gala didn't offer any advantage. None that he could see.
And it came with many risks that mere 'fun' does not outweigh. There are guards, and somepony might get hurt. He wasn't a strong enough battlemage to prevent battlefield accidents like Mr. Tome could, and he wasn't sure that Mr. Tome would help even if there was advantage to be gained. Even on the off chance everything went perfectly, he would have needlessly revealed his terror cloak to Equestria before whatever day he might need it.
And now that he was thinking along these lines, if he suddenly did find a potential advantage that outweighed all risks and costs, he was certain the Sorting Hat would have called them rationalisations to do something he already wanted to do.
And so, with only a small twinge of detachment pain, he let go of the beautiful yet impractical idea and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.
"-martial programs taken by aspiring guards. I am taking one myself, and I can say with certainty that there is room for improvement."
"There is always room for improvement," said Princess Luna. "Do you believe it is worth the time and money and effort to overhaul the program, just to see that improvement?"
"No," said Mr. Tome. "I am simply pointing out that accreditation is not always a sufficient standard for hiring."
Silver interjected at this point, saying something intelligent, and ignoring the temptation to have fun at the expense and terror of others.