//------------------------------// // House Call // Story: My Little Praetor: Phthisis is Magic // by FanOfMostEverything //------------------------------// Rainbow Dash thought it was going to be a long, long time before touchdown brought her 'round again to find that she wasn't the mare they thought she was at home. As it turned out, while organic rockets had the edge in pure speed, feathered wings were vastly more efficient, especially when powered by an organic metabolism. As such, Dash's thrust quickly petered out once she was home, her stomach emptier than a pie tin left within five feet of Pinkie Pie. Dazed by speed and hunger, the pegasus headed directly for kitchen, going straight through any doors or walls in the way. Once there, she stuck her head through the cloud door of the sleetbox and grazed, consuming a good chunk of the appliance along with all of its contents save for an old box of Foreleg & Hammer. That done, she tugged her head out of the innocent device and promptly collapsed. Before losing consciousness, her brain managed to recover enough for two words: "Worth it." One problem with fighting something that was already dead, Fankraxynox had discovered, was that killing it had little impact on its ability to fight back. He had delivered blows that would pulp a griffin, but the skeletal dragon hadn't even flinched. He'd shattered its body, crushed it like a chunk of talc, and it just reassembled itself, black filth and green haze restoring it to pristine putrescence. He wasn't doing nearly as well himself. The aberration had only managed to nick him a few times, but even those slight scratches were proving grievous injuries. Each spot that the fiend's foul claws had touched burned with icy agony, like acid slowly eating away at the Drakenlord's flesh. Fankraxynox was stronger, faster, and smarter, but this fight was boiling down to brute endurance, and there his foe had him beat. After giving his best for the better part of a day, the old wyrm was tiring. Meanwhile, the monstrosity seemed as inexhaustible as a machine. He knew it. The other dragon knew it. Barring a miracle, it was just a matter of time. The Warden of the Peaks slumped on the slope of Mount Benji. His vision blurred. His lungs burned. His right wing felt like it was going to fall off. Still, he was a dragon. If he died, he would do it with pride and dignity. He glowered up at the abomination above him and sucked in the breath for one last roar of flame and defiance. Skithiryx stared dispassionately at the other dragon below. He envied it. He pitied it. It did not hear the whispers, but soon it would. Soon it would join him in glorious suffering. He dived towards the pathetic beast, ready to spread the blessings of Phyrexia. Neither noticed the third dragon that had appeared on the horizon. Neither felt the wave of vanity magic building along her tail. Neither saw the narcissimancy grant the wish that burns in every dragon's heart: "Let there be none greater than I." Indeed, Crackle went totally unnoticed until the moment she plowed into Skithiryx's spinal cavity and out through his chest, too busy watching her shadow ripple over the rugged landscape to notice the collision before it was too late. After the impact, she paused, turned, and hovered, watching as the two chunks of the Blight Dragon fell and rotted, rapid decay spreading through the ruined flesh. "Oh dear," she muttered, before calling out, "Sorry!" Fankraxynox gazed at her for a moment, utterly stupefied, before bursting into laughter. The she-dragon pouted at this, making him laugh all the harder. Finally, he collected himself enough to say, "You have my thanks, young one." Crackle beamed. "You're welcome!" She paused and blinked asynchronously. "Um, what did I do?" The morning sun crept across the boudoir to highlight Rarity's sleeping face. "Mmm..." She awoke, gave a most unladylike yawn and a tremendous stretch, then slid out of bed. The fashionista gave her limbs a few appraising flexes and nodded in satisfaction. "Glad to see we're feeling better today," she said to herself. Rarity's self-assessment was disrupted by a deep snore. It wasn't very loud, but it was pitched so low that she heard it with her bones as much as with her ears. "My goodness!" cried the unicorn. "Whatever could've... oh. I see." Spike lay curled at the foot of her bed, thin streams of smoke drifting out of his nostrils. Opalescence slept on top of him, having found the dragon pleasantly similar to a heated leather beanbag. Rarity couldn't help but smile at the tableau. "Simply precious," she quietly declared. "I shan't disturb them." She eased her way out of the room and towards the kitchen. She wasn't sure if Spike's sudden growth had also matured his palette, but she'd definitely feel better prepared to face today after a pot of coffee. She didn't notice that she was effortlessly balanced on her hind legs until she was halfway down the stairs. Neither dragon nor cat stirred in the resulting crash. Private First Class Razor Pinion, Day Guard, considered the tree before him. He didn't particularly care for trees. He was a Cloudsdale colt and had thought food grew in freight wagons until well into puberty. The idea of a greeny-brown thing that somehow turned dirt into apples still didn't sit right with him. Especially not ones that suddenly appeared in the middle of a park and disgorged national heroes-turned-major criminals. "What are we supposed to do again, Sarge?" Sergeant Liquid Crystal, also Day Guard, held back a sigh. Pinion needed more experience on and with the ground, she told herself. Unfortunately, until he got that experience, he approached any terrestrial situation with more than a little paranoia. "For the tenth time this morning," she answered, "we're to search the premises for any intelligence regarding the enemy." "Right." Razor stared at the tree. He had an uncomfortable feeling that it was staring back. "We're going to have to go inside, Private Pinion." "Yes, Ma'am." There were definitely eye-like shapes above the front door, making it look like the terrible maw of some creature out of ghost stories. Crystal didn't bother restraining the sigh this time. "Please tell me I'm not going to have to order you into a library, Razor." The stallion fluffed his wings nervously. "N-no, Ma'am." He stiffly marched towards the hungry beast. His superior rolled her eyes. "Permission to bend your knees granted, Private." "Thank you, Ma'am," came the automatic reply. The privilege was not exercised. "Ma'am?" "Yes, Private?" "The door's locked." Pinion completely failed to disguise the relief in his voice. Crystal gave him a look so flat, it made a pancake seem like an adventure in topography. "Remind me, Private, what is your special talent?" He drooped and droned, "The featherblade technique." She nodded. "Please bypass the lock, Private." "Yes, Ma'am..." A few snicker-snacks later, the door was encased in a lime-green magic aura and moved aside, a few small pieces still attached to the hinges. "There now," said Crystal as she rested the boards against the trunk, "that wasn't so bad, now was..." She trailed off, taking in the revealed scene. "It?" A palpable aura of wrongness permeated the room. It was hard to say precisely why, if only because so many choices presented themselves. The morning sunlight, when filtered through through the warped and twisted glass of the windows, became a cheerless, sallow illumination. The daylight coming in through the door, meanwhile, only highlighted the other features of the place that much more starkly. Black veins were visible in the wood grain, and in some places the wood itself twisted in ways more suitable for molten, twisted rock or metal than anything living. Translucent film covered some of the alcoves that served as bookshelves, reflecting light in unsettling ways. Both guards got the sense that a pony's-head ornament atop the central plinth was staring at them. Liquid Crystal shook herself. Pinion was already terrified to the point of dropping horse apples. If she showed trepidation, he'd probably fly back to his barracks, or maybe his mother. Steeling herself and her voice, she commanded, "Alright, I want a thorough, systematic search, top to bottom." The pegasus gave her an incredulous look. "Are you crazy? Look at this place!" "All I see is a library, Private," Crystal lied in her most reasonable voice. "No hostiles, no signs of traps, nothing but books and empty space." "No sign of traps just means that they're good traps." Satisfaction flavored the mare's frustration. At least Pinion wasn't so scared that he'd forgotten his training. "We're still going to be careful," reassured Crystal. She gave a small smile. "Look, I'll admit the place is a bit unsettling." And the Sun, she added silently, is a bit warm. "Still, we have direct orders from the Princess herself. We have to do this, so let's get it done. Okay?" Razor grimaced and grumbled a bit, then sagged in resignation. "Fine. Lead the way, Sarge." The unicorn's horn glowed with magic and her eyes soon followed suit, a tessellating, vaguely insectile pattern of narrow hexagons forming over them. She visually swept the room, her sight all in shades of green but otherwise unchanged. "Nothing on hazard detection. Proceed with caution, though; it's not foolproof." Despite himself, Pinion couldn't help but think that anypony who went into a place like this must be a fool. Still, he followed his superior officer into the tree. As he did so, he tried to ignore the face he still saw above the doorway. It didn't return the favor. "Celestia should be giving the official statement soon," the Doctor declared. "Once she does, we can move forward with the conscription process." Pumpkin blinked and looked about the stallion's office. Her quiet "Uh oh" was barely audible amid the countless ticking clocks. The other Bureau members shared a look of concern. Lyra spoke for the group. "Why 'uh oh'?" "My don't-notice-us spell just collapsed like wet tissue paper." "Maybe you're just out of power," Ditzy suggested. Pumpkin shook her head. "I've kept that spell going for days on end." She tensed as an idea struck her. "Does your daughter know where we are?" Ditzy considered this. "I didn't tell her." Her thoughts turned to Dinky Sense. "She may be able to figure it out on her own, though." The pegasus frowned. "Still, it's not like her to throw around countermagic willy-nilly." The sound of a hoof on the front door and a muffled but clearly accented "Hello?" led to Pumpkin nodding. "Ah, that'd do it." "What?" asked Colgate. "That spell can only ward off casual interest. It can't hide somepony as narratively important as an Element Bearer." Ditzy indignantly scrunched up her face. "What are we, milled oats?" Pumpkin shrugged. "In the grand scheme of things, compared to the Avatar of Honesty? Yeah, we are." "'Avatar'?" Lyra frowned. "Didn't you just call her—" "You know, I really should answer the door," the Doctor noted, springing up perhaps a bit too eagerly. "Everypony, I'm not ordering you to eavesdrop, but, well..." He smiled and shrugged. "Eavesdrop. That's an order." He left the door open, and the mares soon crowded around it, ears pointed towards the front hall. Soon enough, the faint creak of hinges was followed by "Ah, Miss Applejack. Welcome to Turner's Dentistry and Horology. I don't believe you have an appointment?" "Sorry, Doc, but Ah ain't got time fer neighborly conversation. Where's Ditzy?" An exasperated sigh. "I really do find those rumors concerning Ms. Doo and me quite tasteless, especially after her happy reunion with her husband. I'm afraid I—" An annoyed Applejack cut him off. "Can it. Ah know she's here." "How, may I ask?" The Doctor's question was polite, but carried a tart to the point of being hydrochloric. "Hi, Doctor Whooves!" Ditzy and Pumpkin both gasped at this voice. Downstairs, the stallion lamely mumbled, "That's not my name..." "Li'l Dinky here agreed t' help me find 'er ma," explained Applejack, "an' Ah know what with all that's goin' on, right now Ditzy'd be with 'er spy-pony friends." Conversational alchemist that he was, the Doctor carefully balanced amusement, disbelief, and exasperation in his next statement. "Are you really calling me a spy?" "Aw, c'mon, Doc. Everypony in town knows y' ain't just some nutty clockmaker what lives with yer dentist niece." "I prefer 'eccentric,' thank you," the stallion noted with a hint of umbrage. The farmhoof plowed on. "Point is, th' innocent act ain't gonna work. Ah'm gonna keep pluggin' away 'til Ah git what Ah want, so y' may as well jus' take me to 'er now so's y' kin go about yer day." Ditzy stood. "Good enough for me," she declared "What do you think you're doing!?" Colgate hissed. The pegasus gave her answer as she made for the sales floor. "Saving us valuable world-saving time." A field of cyan magic began to form around her, only to dissipate just as quickly. "And don't try stopping me." The blue unicorn felt her eye twitch a little. "Keep forgetting she can do that," she admitted. "It does take some getting used to," Pumpkin acknowledged. Colgate turned to her fellows. "You two aren't going to just stand there, are you?" Lyra shrugged. "Hay, Applejack blew your cover, not ours. Only way we can stop Ditzy is physically subduing her, and then we'd have to explain why we're here." "And there's a chance Miss Applejack will recognize me," noted Pumpkin. Colgate groaned and dashed after Ditzy, which meant she was just in time to see the pegasus meet her friend and daughter. "Mommy!" Dinky rushed to her mother's side as though magnetized, a light at the tip of her horn flaring to almost blinding intensity before winking out. "Hi, Muffin," Ditzy cooed. "Couldn't wait until Mommy was done saving the world?" The filly sudden found the floorboards fascinating. "Miss Applejack may have said something about an apple cobbler..." The Doctor shook his head. "Really? Bribery? From the Element of Honesty?" Applejack stood proud and unashamed. "She'll be gettin' that cobbler. Payment fer services rendered, as promised." "I'm guessing you aren't here to discuss ethics," prompted Ditzy. The earth mare nodded. "Ah need yer help, Ditzy." The planeswalker offered an apologetic smile. "In case you haven't noticed, so does all of Equestria. Can this wait?" Applejack snorted impatiently. "Consarn it, this is so Ah kin help Equestria! So Ah kin be at mah best!" She looked down. "So Ah know Ah ain't goin' crazy..." The pieces came together. "Oh." Ditzy fluffed her wings uneasily. "Um, I think Head Shrinker over at Ponyville General might be better suited for this kind of thing." Applejack rolled her eyes. "That quack's good fer two things: No good an' good fer nothin'. Ah need somepony who kin really git inside mah head an' sort out whatever ain't sorted." "Well, I can certainly do the former," Ditzy admitted. On the edge of her vision, she saw the Doctor glance towards Applejack, then cross his eyes. The meaning was clear. Don't suppose you could wipe her recent memory while you're in there, could you? As Ditzy approached her friend, she answered the senior officer telepathically. 'Why bother? All she did was confirm preexisting suspicions. Even if she tells somepony, it's not going to actually change the town gossip.' Once she was face to face with Applejack, Ditzy told her, "Stay calm. I'll take care of everything, I just need you to let me in." The orange mare nodded, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. "Ah got nothin' t' hide." Ditzy smiled. Technically, she could've barged in anyway, but that would've been both rude and exhausting. This way she could ease into the other pony's mind and see what the problem was without it trying to tear her face off. Hopefully. Ditzy tried to tune out the fluffy, savory afterimage in her nose as she assembled Applejack's thoughts and memories into a discernible environment. The synesthesia soon receded, leaving a conveniently featureless expanse. The pegasus could've created something more elaborate, but this needed to be a quick in-and-out mind dive. "Now if only I could find the pony I dove into," Ditzy muttered. "Applejack?" "Over here." The blonde mare frowned. That had barely sounded like the farmer. Ditzy shrugged. "Maybe it's some kind of personality aspect avatar." She moved towards the source of the sound. Once she could see said source, she gasped. "A-Applejack?" Before her was an alicorn who would stand head and shoulders above Celestia, built along the proportions of Big Macintosh. The entity's mane and tail wavered like ripe wheat in an autumn breeze. Her body, slightly translucent, glowed with an inner light, like amber made from the sap of a world-tree. Her hooves were shod with unadorned brazen greaves, and around her neck was a work of bronze that blurred the line between necklace, breastplate, and horse collar. In that strange item's center was the apple-shaped gemstone that could only be the Element of Honesty. The figure gave a soft grin. "As I said, I have nothing to hide." Closer up, her voice was recognizably Applejack's, but unaccented and so suffused with such warmth and confidence that Ditzy involuntarily knelt before her. This prompted a look of surprise from the translucent mare. "Are you alright, Ditzy?" "Y-yes, Your Highness," whispered the pegasus, her eyes wide, unseeing, and directed towards the ground. Applejack frowned. "I am no princess. I have no truck with politics. Ditzy?" The grey mare still knelt before her, averting her eyes. The alicorn nudged her with a hoof. "Ditzy! Get up!" "Whuh... huh?" Ditzy got to her feet, unsteady as a newborn, eyes akimbo. After a few blinks, she once again beheld Applejack, though with marginally less awe. "Whoa. Sorry, AJ. That was... wow." "What happened?" Ditzy furrowed her brow. "How do I put this..." "Say what you need to," answered the amber pony. "I will understand the truth of the words." "Oh." Ditzy smirked. "Well, that simplifies things. Basically... well, you've met the princesses. You know how they have this air of authority about them." Applejack nodded. "It feels right to bow to them, to show them respect." Her eyes widened. "Am I doing the same thing?" "More so," answered Ditzy. "I don't know if they tone it down or if it's magnified by the mindscape or what, but seeing you made my body kowtow without my brain getting involved. Plus..." She trailed off, her wary gaze on a point just above the other mare's head. "Plus?" Applejack asked. "It'll be easier to show you." Ditzy's eyes flashed blue. She then said, "Don't think of a mirror." "Why shouldn't I—" Before Applejack could finish, a full-length mirror appeared before her. She took a step back in surprise, then moved closer, the better to scrutinize her reflection. It wasn't just her regal stature and strange composition that fascinated her. Along the line of her mane and spine, a tenuous green aurora danced and writhed, its motion a blend of flickering flames and swaying branches. "What is that?" The answer came from beside her. "Your aura." Applejack turned her head and saw Ditzy at her side, examining the undulating energies. However, she didn't see the energies themselves. "Why can I only see it in the mirror?" "A little magic so you can see what I do in the reflection," answered Ditzy. "I'm guessing it isn't normally like this." The pegasus nodded. "Right now, your body's generating more magic than it knows what to do with, so it's sticking the excess wherever it can." She took a few steps back and ran her gaze over the aura's length. "It seems to be harmless. Well, mostly harmless, but only if you call making ponies bow to you 'harm.'" This made Applejack frown. "What's wrong?" "Your words are honest," said the alicorn, "yet they ring false." Ditzy contemplated this for a moment. "How's that work?" "Honesty is saying what you believe to be. The truth is what actually is." Applejack glared at her reflection. "Leave me. I need to check something." Ditzy hesitated. "But you haven't even told me what you wanted me to—" "GO." The mindscape shuddered with the command, spoken by Applejack both within and without. The pegasus vanished, banished. The alicorn continued to stare at the mirror, even as the illusion of the mindscape began to unravel without its mistress. It should be noted at this point that, like thaliamancy, alethiomancy – honesty magic – has an interesting interaction with fiction. Specifically, it doesn't. That is to say, at high enough concentrations, the magic of honesty becomes wholly incompatible with a fictitious narrative. After all, fiction is simply an entertaining lie. The reason this should be noted is that Applejack then began to actively channel the power of her Element. The already fading environment started to fragment at a much more rapid clip as the energies eroded its metaphoric substructure. Applejack herself grew ever more indistinct from the increasingly incoherent landscape, it being a literal part of her. The mirror endured for far longer. Even without magic, mirrors are some of the most honest things in the Multiverse, showing only what they are shown. Ditzy's spell had made this one even more so, capable of revealing truths that most of its kin could not. Just before Applejack's mind became narratively inaccessible, the gifted mirror showed a dense network of thin black lines running through pony and place alike. "Mommy!" Ditzy blinked as she reacquainting herself with her physical body, which had apparently been shoved back from Applejack's. "Oof. Don't worry, Muffin, Mommy's okay." "What happened?" asked the Doctor. "When an experienced applebucker kicks you out of her mind, she knows what she's doing," answered the planeswalker. She got to her feet. "Well, whatever it is Applejack wanted my help with, I think she's got it well in hoof." "If you say so," said the earth stallion, considering the Bearer. Applejack stood unresponsive, her knees locked. Muscles spasmed here and there beneath her coat. "Should we just prop her in the corner for the time being?" Pumpkin came downstairs. "I wouldn't advise it. I need her to be a minimum distance away from us to reestablish my ward." "Can I help be a spy-pony?" asked Dinky. The future mare hesitated, but Ditzy nodded. The older blonde poked Applejack, making a film of blue light flicker over the earth mare. "Could you take Miss Applejack back to her farm, Muffin?" "Um..." Dinky hesitated, unsure her young magic could lift an adult pony, but the thought of helping Equestria's finest bolstered her. "You got it!" Another blue aura wrapped around the farmhoof. Much to the foal's surprise, Applejack felt as light as a soap bubble. "Agent Double-Oh Dink is on the job!" Dinky declared, proudly trotting out. Pumpkin gave a sigh of relief as she watched the child depart. "And with that, I should be able to get us unnoticed right about... n (Once again, the author would like to apologize to all speakers of the French language. But not to sapient bags of flour. Not this time.) Gay Maris. The City of Lights. Capital of Prance and, in the opinion of the average Marisian, of civilization as a whole. Oh, Canterlot certainly merited a degree of respect, the Princesses having chosen it for their own ineffable reasons, but Maris was culture. Maris was class. Maris was, in a word, Prance, and Canterlot, not to put too fine a point on it, wasn't. All historians agree that the relationship between Equestria and Prance culminated in annexation. The point of contention is who annexed whom. This is crucial to understanding the Prench mindset in general, and the Marisian in particular. In any case, Iron Will moved through the central plaza with his usual entourage of goats. The Prench loved the minotaur's message of no-nonsense self-assertion, but they needed his seminars like a fish needed a snorkel. Iron Will's gigs in Prance were for entertainment and reaffirming the audience's personal beliefs, not self-improvement. He'd been hesitant to come until the mayor of Maris had confirmed that, yes, there were supposed to be that many zeroes at the end of his appearance fee. Needed or not, Iron Will had certainly drawn crowds. It appeared that he'd become one of those inexplicable regional supercelebrities, like David Hasslehoof in Germaneigh. Still, it'd be nice to know he wasn't just preaching to the choir... "Ahem." A hovering pegasus broke the minotaur out of his reverie. "Monsieur Iron Will?" Iron Will locked his gaze with the stallion's, gave him a winning smile, and confidently declared, "That's me." "Sign here, s'il vous plait." The Marisian mailpony presented a clipboard. Having gone through the labyrinth a few times in his day, Iron Will made sure to read what he was signing beforehand. It was just a form indicating that he'd received the package, but a supercelebrity could never be too careful. Especially not after that one mare played the concept of "one hundred percent satisfaction" to her advantage. In any case, the minotaur wrote out the series of pony glyphs with the same flourish as he would an autograph. The pegasus pulled an envelope from his saddlebag and offered it. "'Or 'ou." "Thanks." Iron Will rummaged through his personal space pocket, extracted a bit, and tossed towards the courier. "For your trouble." (Given minotaurs' talent with mazes, it should come as little surprise that they're quite skilled at working at right angles to reality, including the formation of hyperspace pockets where they can stash personal belongings.) The pegasus caught it in his mouth, the slightest hint of positive emotion in his dispassionate glare. Once he pocketed the tip, he offered a "Merci" largely scrubbed of sarcasm and flew off. Something clicked in Iron Will's head. "Bill, I've got a new one. Ready?" "Baa." "Great. 'Be tough and nice. They'll respect you twice.'" "Baa?" "I'm thinking around Day 4," replied the minotaur. "Remind 'em you don't have to unload on everything that moves." "Baa?" asked another of his assistants. "Dunno, Greg. Probably fanmail." Iron Will checked the envelope. His jaw dropped. "No," he muttered, staring at the bull's head emblem where the return address should be, "definitely not fanmail." He tore open the envelope, eyes roving over the message. They didn't move as most would expect. The written language of the minotaurs is not alphabetical. Instead of ideograms or phonograms, the information is encoded into a maze, each twist of the path a turn of phrase. Novels are measured not in pages but in square feet. This missive, however was the size of a handkerchief, its message a simple one. Roughly translated, it read thusly: "Hey hotshot, "Celestia's sounded a call to arms. Yes, really. And you know what I say about when ponies are in need. I want you in Canterlot yesterday. I'll meet you there. "Angus" Iron Will gave a low whistle. The minotaur king himself. He rarely left his fortress in Ithacox, much less Minos entirely. No sense in making him wait. "Boys, change of plans. Tour's cancelled." This prompted a flurry of panicked bleating. The goats' voices merged and formed a chord that resonated with the Stifle Tower, making the iron lattice shudder like a tremendous tuning fork. Unaware of the shaking overhead, the minotaur held up his hands. "Not my choice, guys. Royal order." "Baa?" "No, Angus. I can't ignore something like that any more than one of you could ignore a decree from the Throne of Tin." The vibrations, minor as they were, were enough to upset the equilibrium of something wedged between two beams. Slowly, gracefully, it listed to one side and tumbled to the ground. "I'm sure Amspurdam will be willing to reschedule and—" "Baa!" Iron Will was cut off by one of the goats collapsing. The others herded around him. The minotaur shooed them away. "Come on, give him some air." He knelt by his assistant. The goat's rectangular pupils were unfocused. "You okay there, Keith?" "Baa..." Keith bleated muzzily. "How many fingers am I holding up?" "Baa." "Yeah, you'll be fine. Go walk it off." As Keith staggered to his hooves, Iron Will examined what had hit him. It looked like a black velvet beanbag. Curious, the minotaur took it in hand. In a flare of light, the shapeless lump reformed itself into a resplendent golden breastplate, ridiculous masses that could only be called pauldrons adorning each shoulder. Between the sculpted pectorals was a sapphire bull's head, nearly identical to the symbol on Iron Will's pamphlets. The minotaur blinked. "Huh. Didn't see that coming." The armor latched open in the back and fit like a second skin. "Nice." Shining in the sunlight, Iron Will grinned at his goats. "Feel free to take a vacation, guys. Go home, see your kids, that kind of thing." The groupies glanced at one another, then huddled. After a minute of hushed bleating, they turned back to their employer. Bill, unofficial spokesgoat, shook his head. "You sure? From the sound of it, this is gonna get ugly." The other goats grew uneasy, glancing to their sides, shuffling their hooves. Bill looked back at them with contempt. "Baa," he proclaimed. Iron Will smiled. "I'm touched, Bill. I really am." He turned to the rest of the crew. "Well, you all heard 'im: If you ain't got the stones, then go on home! Bill and I have an appointment with royalty." In her private chambers, Celestia shut her eyes and focused. The Element of Cunning hung from her neck. It was a decidedly different experience from the Elements of Harmony. While they had felt like an extension of herself, this single gem stayed just heavy enough to make sure she never forgot it was there. After more than a millennium of independent action, it felt odd to rely on an external power again, but she couldn't do what she needed to without it. Luna could, yes, illusion had always been more her forte, but she'd refused. "The ponies' minds see a forgotten princess," the moon princess had said, "but their hearts see the Nightmare that haunted their foalhoods. You have been the sole face of authority for a thousand years. You have to be the one to do this." The sun princess smiled ruefully. So little faith in herself. Thinking about Luna or yourself? "Quiet, Discord," Celestia chastised calmly. Oh? Want to blindly toy with your Element until you get it to work, then? "Just keep your mind games to yourself," she answered. "I'd like to get through this with as little fuss as possible." Yes, because chaos forbid I actually get to have any fun. "Not at the expense of the innocent." And how does that rule you out? Celestia frowned, her brow furrowing. "We can have this discussion after you help me." And we will. "Going to cooperate, then?" Very well. Whenever you're ready. Celestia snapped her head up in surprise. "That's it?" Sure. Cunning is strategically selective honesty. Communication naturally falls under its purview. "I mean, you're not going to try to force me to bargain away my soul or sanity or dignity in exchange for your help?" Would you like me to? "No!" Celestia shouted. Then I don't see much point. I told you, Celly-Belly, I'm on your side for once. It doesn't mean I'm going to stop being me, but it does mean you can stop worrying about how I'm going to rearrange your thought patterns. Which, might I add, have simply horrendous Feng Shui. The alicorn ignored the rambling, looked straight ahead, and put on her best "dignified resolve" face. "Discord?" ...and as for the chi flow in your medulla oblongata— Oh, yes?" "Now." Across Equestria, the sun's rays twisted and blurred as guileful magic reshaped them into their mistress's image. Celestia's face bore down on every city, town, and village in the nation like a squadron of rogue parade balloons. Where the sky was obscured, she appeared life-size before every stallion, mare, and foal. The country ground to a halt as she began to speak. "My subjects. My charges. My friends. Today I speak not only to the ponies, but also to the donkeys and mules, to the cows and sheep, to all who call Equestria home. "For centuries, we have known a peace the likes of which I once believed I would never see. The very concept of war has faded with time, flour and sugar replacing hoof and steel. It is with a heavy heart that, much as I wish otherwise, this blessed time has come to an end. "An enemy approaches from without our nation, our world, our very universe. They seek nothing less than total conquest and subjugation, the destruction of everything we hold dear and the reshaping of our bodies and souls to their specifications. The heroines of our nation are without their leader, my treasured student, who these monstrosities have twisted to their own purposes. "And yet, there is hope. Our foe has only begun to strike, and we can and must stand united against them. I call on each and every one of you to do all you can. You do not have to raise a spear to do so. Farmers, bakers, mages, couriers, you all have your own gifts that will prove invaluable. I implore each and every one of you to visit your nearest municipal or Guard recruitment center. Together, we can show these horrors that they have awakened a sleeping Ursa. Together, we can put aside the petty quarrels of species and nation and defend our world. Together, we can save Twilight Sparkle, and the light of Harmony will put the capstone on a monument to what cooperation can do." "Now is the time for all good sapients to come to the aid of their world. I, Celestia Helia Apollonia Regina Lumia Alicor, Princess of Equestria, Sunforger, Dawnbringer, and Third Child of Ungula, declare war on the blight of existence that calls itself Phyrexia. I call upon my fellow leaders of nations to do the same. "The time has passed for love and tolerance. We will not sit passively. We will not surrender. We will fight, we will win, and we will do it together. My friends, I have the utmost in faith in you. I know you will not disappoint me. Now let's go kick some unrighteous ass." Crackle, Best Dragon 3(ur)(ur)(ur) Legendary Creature — Dragon Crackle, Best Dragon gets +X/+Y, where X is the greatest power among Dragon creatures on the battlefield not named Crackle, Best Dragon and Y is the greatest toughness among those creatures. Crackle has all abilities of each Dragon not named Crackle, Best Dragon. (If any of those abilities use that creature's name, use this creature's name instead.) 1/1 Pervasive Putrescence 4BB Enchantment — Aura Enchant artifact or creature Enchanted permanent has "At the beginning of your upkeep, you get a poison counter." "The oil claimed Mirrodin slowly, patiently, showing itself only when victory was assured. We would be wise to follow its example with this new world." —Kraynox, Deep Thane