Apple Bloom cleared her throat. "Chapter one: Before the Aerie: Ragnarok, Hellfire, and Catastrophe," she intoned, her face and voice shifting to turn a particular shade of grim as she began to rattle off the first chapter of the goods. "Not many ponies outside of Equestria have dismal tales regarding their cutie marks, and if they do, it's usually kept under tight wraps. Indeed, it seems the opposite holds true of Fantasia: whatever cutie marks appear there always have something bleak regarding them, whether misused or, in some cases, completely catastrophic wherever applied. For this reason, not many who are from Fantasia are willing to share their cutie mark stories, for the fear of being persecuted."
"The persecution of cutie marks went above and beyond in Fantasia for uncounted years and years, to the extent that those who obtained them were essentially marked for death. How they killed off ponies who obtained their marks was through a series of gladiator 'games,' pitting anypony with cutie marks against one another in gruesome battles that did nothing else but entertain those who wanted to see cutie marks purged. Not even foals were safe—many lost their lives, scared, traumatized, and scarred by the 'games' in their last moments."
"This type of cutie mark persecution only ended ten years ago, when the architects of the gladiator 'games' met their match after foalnapping the wrong ponies. Only three unicorn foals were left at the end of this batch of 'games,' each given a weapon and told that only one would be able to trot away. The foals didn't have their cutie marks yet, but were taken simply for the crime of crusading for them."
"The foals threw down their weapons, and were then cornered by adults who moved in to cut their lives short. When the adults grabbed the foals, the foals' horns lit up—and a magic surge unlike any before erupted from the three. A portal in the sky opened up, bringing forth giant weapons of darkness and shadow, cast in a crimson light and the massive meteor-sized flames of raw magic that orbited them."
Apple Bloom paused to flash illustrations to the class, showing off the swords and meteors wrought from Tartarus. Below them were felled ponies, burnt and slashed, against the backdrop of a stadium full of ponies looking up to behold the terrifying tableau in full. The class shuddered at the imagery, eyes glued onto them as they were allowed to take a moment to picture the horrifying event as it played out in their heads. Diamond and Silver Spoon had dropped jaws and wide eyes.
Good. Those two saying nothing was a promising sign, and even better, the head of the school board didn't deign fit to speak. They continued to let their ball roll, wanting to take it to its conclusion.
"The crowd who wanted to purge cutie marks stopped their chanting and looked up, before mass panic overtook them. They tried to run away, as the architects were trying to kill the unicorn foals, and all failed miserably. The swords and flames rained down on everypony who tried to hurt the foals, destroying and altering the landscape around the stadium, as well as the stadium itself. This would later be known as the 'Royale Catastrophe,' an event that only the foals who had the magic surge would be able to walk away from."
"But things would grow worse for the three foals, now dubbed the Children of Catastrophe. Word seemed to spread faster than they could trot, and towns turned them away, chasing them out simply for the crime of obtaining their cutie marks. Driven out of Fantasian society, and hounded by ponies who wanted them dead, the Children could only hide in the shadows, stealing what they could and sometimes what they couldn't in order to survive."
Here, Apple Bloom flashed another illustration as she turned the page, of shadow-bound ponies stealing from a shop, with the oblivious shopkeeper not noticing anything was wrong as the shadows plucked the bare necessities from his shelves. This picture had been done in two parts; the first had the shopkeeper with his back turned to the crime in progress, and the second had him turning around just as the shadows retracted under a window pane, and noticing a few wares were gone before he realized he was helpless to stop the theft.
"But the casualties mounted, and despite their pleas falling on deaf ears, the Children marched on, skipping towns and provinces so many times, ponies began to wonder how they were able to make their thefts at all. Some devised traps in their stores, hoping to bait them and catch them in the act, but the Children were smart—smarter than everypony gave them credit for. Worsening things for them was that the Children only took the bare necessities to survive in the wilds for days on end, and no further, opting to hunt for their food otherwise."
"Then, as the number of ponies they had to kill dwindled, and the killings themselves spaced out between weeks and then months, the Children caught a curious rumor. In a province to the east, they heard tales of a maddened cult trying to revive an alicorn of yore, potentially one that had survived the even more ancient and fabled war between Faust and Godcat. Investigating these rumors, and using the shadows to their advantage, they soon found the cult's stronghold and prepared to infiltrate."
"Cultists stood in their way, and the Children were resolute. The cult attacked first, giving them the leeway to murder them in self-defense as they saw fit. A curious detail emerged as they fought the cultists; they were wearing long wigs, and sported strangely-misshapen muscles, in imitation of the alicorn they had chosen to worship. The fights were tiring, and being but teenagers, the Children knew they couldn't carry out a prolonged fight even if the deck was stacked in their favor, but they pressed on, unsure of what this alicorn would bring to Fantasia if revived."
"The results… were disappointing. The Children managed to disrupt the ritual, and in the process, almost prevented the alicorn from coming back. But he tore his way out of the afterlife, carrying a sword and sporting… many things wrong with him. For starters, he had no lower jaw, and bugs were crawling in him. For another, his wings were stubs, grounding him to the floor. Third, his speech was slurred, as a result of the missing jaw."
Apple Bloom paused once more to flash the illustration of the mangled bastard in question, causing the class to collectively wince and gag at the drawing. They also shuddered in fear, wondering how such a pony could return to the realm of the living in such a miserable state. Letting them soak it in, she waited for the class to calm down before turning the booklet back towards herself to continue reading.
"Needless to say, it took many, many attempts for the Children to understand what the alicorn was trying to say. His goals didn't surprise them any: world domination, mass bloodshed, and other similar workings they had found back at the colosseum on that fateful day. Laughing their heads off at the alicorn, even as they took up fighting stances, they decided to take an unusual approach to this fight: they were going to have some fun with it. It all started when one of the Children, the only filly of the group, made fun of his obscenely long mane and told him he looked like he couldn't walk three body lengths without tripping over it."
"Then, they started teasing him further, and before long he made his retaliation known. However, the Children had tricks up their sleeves, using the shadows of the room they stood in to dodge the attacks. All the while, they began making fun of his slurred speech, his missing wings, and even his goals, gradually riling up their enemy into making more and more reckless mistakes that would eventually cost him the battle. It wasn't long before his sword was pilfered from him, and tucked away in the shadows of his adversaries, so he resorted to magical blasts and punches to try and kill his opponents."
"Eventually, the mangled alicorn made a critical mistake—he let himself get too angry. As the Children moved to make the death blow, he channeled the last of himself into an attack that he hoped would end the pesky foals who dared to challenge him. The attack was halted, but in the process, he exploded—a magical explosion, and one violent enough to not only shred the cult's stronghold along with him, but send the Children flying across at least half of Fantasia doing it. It was a good bit of time before they landed, and the budding mare remembered to light her horn in time, but she had cut it close with her save—the Children still had to deal with broken legs and mana drain afterwards, and it was very fortunate that they had landed in a friendly kingdom of cats that tended to their wounds."
"But they knew… it wouldn't be over yet. It would only be the beginning of their adventures across Fantasia. They did not know it yet, but the stage had been set for an even bigger catastrophe to take place, one looming over Fantasia's horizon," Apple Bloom concluded the first chapter, before handing off the report to Scootaloo. Scootaloo glanced at the beginning of the second chapter, nodded to herself, and looked towards the rest of the class.
All eyes were still on the stage. Excellent. Furthermore, the first page of the second chapter had been edited by one of her friends, largely to keep the flow of the report buttery-smooth. Very good thing they had used pencils instead of ink for the task—made erasing and editing so much smoother. She took her turn rattling off the second chapter, showing illustrations of Fantasia's map, the fearsome magitek the Children faced, and the deadly Valkyrie being attended to by the silhouette of the insane pegasus when she reached those sections.
So far, so good. Nopony dared to interject yet. Scootaloo nodded, and passed the report to Sweetie Belle, who cleared her throat and moved on to the third chapter of the report.
"Chapter three: The Promise of Friendship: What The Aerie Is Like Now. Built on the dreams of changelings, gryphons, and the Children of Catastrophe, the Aerie represents what could happen to Fantasia if they let their hatred of cutie marks go—what Fantasia could be like, if everyone let racism go. It represents the melding of cultures once thought incompatible, and spearheaded by those who wish to see the mistakes of the past linger no longer."
"As a result, despite being military-oriented, the Aerie is pretty friendly… so long as you show them basic decency. As a result of their jaded attitude towards most of Fantasia, they're willing to offer you respect if you have actually earned it, rather than walk in and simply demand respect. They are a very opinionated military—every member, from the General down to the lowest-ranking Private, has something on their minds, and will comment about it, no matter what it is. They aren't exactly known for sugarcoating their words, except when dealing with creatures so stupid, that they have to use their words in a very specific way to get said stupid creatures simply to understand them." That got a brief round of laughter out of the class.
"As expected of a crass military," the head of the school board said, still wearing her sardonic sneer. "They think they can demand respect, and most have not earned it." Right for the wrong reasons, but the Crusaders chose to ignore her and her tiny peanut gallery for now.
"However, there are some things the Aerie holds in great and murderous contempt, to such a degree that those practicing the things they hold in said murderous contempt automatically have a kill-on-sight order issued wherever they are found. In which case, they are hostile to those performing the particular practices, and will remain so until they can cremate the being that managed to spark their anger. Fortunately for Fantasia, the truly contemptible seem to be few and far in between, and they are willing to extend mercy to those who truly had no choice in the grand scheme of things—and are even willing to take in ponies from other provinces if they have nowhere else to turn to."
"Furthermore, they are open to diplomacy—very willing, in fact, to practice it. However, not many on Fantasia share the same ideas, and actively seek to bring the Aerie down one way or another. All attempts so far have failed, thanks to the work of their numerous guard posts, scattered around the main base and all hidden within the mountain ranges, guarded by gates and magitek embedded with crystals maintaining carefully-crafted illusions. Everything that arrives at the Aerie must go through the one hundred guard posts first, and while there are ways to skip that step, they aren't really advisable to do so."
The Pristine President of Planet Prissy-Pants rolled her eyes. The Crusaders inwardly snickered as they came up with that name in their heads; perhaps Fantasia rubbed off on them a bit too much. Regardless, they were going to have loads of fun coming up and using creative names for the incompetent head of the school board in the future. "But maybe they should let themselves be invaded… let themselves succumb to ponies with proper mindsets," she mumbled to herself. That got a snicker out of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, but other than that, she kept her trap shut.
"As for how the changelings gather love without harming any sapients at the Aerie, they have a slime ranch that lets them harvest love without feeding from others. Slimes produce love, and are functionally immortal, which is an important feature to have when changelings regularly feed on you. The love produced by the slimes is practically endless, and the changelings have such an excess of it that they can afford to eat solid food at the Aerie."
Sweetie Belle paused to fish out some of the samples from the slime ranch; the silty goo from Big Bertha sparkled in the sun's rays, while the sample from the ice slimes had icicles formed on its bottom that hadn't melted despite the slushy texture of the goods therein. The class ooh-ed, and Sweetie put the samples back into her saddlebags for later.
"The gryphons of the Aerie, meanwhile, focus more on the magitek, though sometimes they have to call the changelings over to enchant certain items. Many gryphons are engineers, and some pilot their own airships and planes. Those who aren't engineers focus more on helping the changelings maintain other functions of the Aerie, such as the cargo bays, the city at the top of the hive-nest, and the various hangars within the mountain they call home." She turned the booklet to flash an illustration of the mighty hive-nest, complete with the steel ring adorning its middle, with doors and huge walkways anchored to the mountain itself to let the airships come in and out as they pleased.
"The General and his Lieutenant-Generals are, outside of work, fairly easygoing ponies who prefer to relax in whatever little bits of spare time they have. However, inside of work, they are stern, curt, and not willing to sugarcoat any words—and in combat, they are fearsome, personally leading the charge into whatever battle has summoned them to the heart of any issue they tackle. They prefer not to sit around in offices, but would rather see battles through themselves than to let the lower ranks do so in their stead. They consider every soldier of every rank and file valuable, consider every soldier a friend to the bitter end, and a life lost is a life mourned."
The Pristine President of Planet Prissy-Pants snickered as she rolled her eyes yet again. "They don't see the lower grunts as the worthless automatons they truly are? Color me shocked," she snarked, still grinning horribly. "It seems the General and his lackeys haven't learned that bits are power, that money is everything." So sayeth the mare sorely lacking in common sense. The class collectively groaned at that, but a death glare from the Noose of Noveau Not-Niceness had the protests silenced before they could begin. No matter, the Crusaders had plenty of ammunition to shut the S.S. Sullied Saint Sanctimonious down, and they were going to unload every cartridge with the effort.
"The military of the Aerie also is… highly adverse to ponies and other sapients displaying worrying amounts of lethal stupidity, so much so that if they don't kill those sapients on the spot, they just let their own bungling stupidity do them in first. In fact, they tolerate idiots as much as they do illegal dark magics—which is to say, not at all, as more than half of the army has been victimized by such magic and idiots, and watch with glee every time an idiot is put in their place. And on Fantasia, that usually means the ground or an ash urn." That got the class laughing, albeit weakly. Still, out of the corner of their eyes, the trio saw the head of the school board glowering slightly, even starting to grind her teeth just an eentsy bit.
Diamond decided to interject. "Idiots, as in, you three, or Snips and Snails?" she quipped, though her joke caused half the class to glare at her, even if only without turning their heads in her direction.
The trio regarded Diamond Tiara with a flat look. "No, idiots as in those who want to kill ponies simply for getting their cutie marks, or practicing illegal magics, or trying to summon murderous gods to kill everybody," they said in unison.
"Y'know, the type to do illegal stuff anyway?" Apple Bloom proffered. "Like I dunno…" She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Geas magic?" The class gasped at the mere mention. Cheerilee and the head of the school board shuddered, wondering if they had prodded a sleeping bear of some kind.
"Th-there are Fantasians who would still… do that?!" Pipsqueak asked, trembling in his seat.
Apple Bloom nodded firmly. "And the Aerie's military don't tolerate it at all. They're gonna put a stop to that buck," she said, confidence oozing into her words. Fortunately, this caused the class to relax, allowing them to carry on with their assignment.
Sweetie nodded, and passed the report back to Apple Bloom, who rattled off about the economy of the Fantasian military. This section bored the class, but not to the point of sleep, and mercifully it was short and concise, and without the excess jargon that economics classes were known for. They made sure to mention that the Aerie used bits just like Equestria, albeit with their bits a bit more stylized to fit their needs, emblazoned with a ranking system just like the military that modeled it.
They dug around in their saddlebags for a bit, and procured the bits they found in their desks, with the cheapest bearing a stylized bust of a changeling and a one-cent mark, the second-cheapest bearing a stylized gryphon bust with a ten-cent mark, and so forth. It was a simple, easy-to-follow system, and the trio inwardly hoped that one day, there could be an exchange rate between Fantasian military bits and standard Equestrian bits. Once the class was done ooh-ing and aah-ing at the foreign currency, the Crusaders squirreled them away before the Pristine President could get any ideas swimming in her head.
Once that was done, the report was passed off to Scootaloo, who gleefully took it in her hooves to start off the next section, "Chapter five: The Culture Of A Fantasian Military. Despite outward appearances, the Aerie is very open about its culture, which clashes with the rest of Fantasia at large. Where the rest of Fantasia shuns cutie marks, the Aerie collectively nods and says 'fair enough,' even throwing cute-ceañeras if a pony obtains a mark in their borders and wishes for such a celebration of the event."
The trio paused to gesture at their cutie marks, grinning as they showed them off for the entire class. "In fact, they threw one for us once we got these," Sweetie said, pride in her voice. She gestured specifically to the harp of her mark. "I'm a musical pony~" she sang, unable to contain her glee at the prospect.
Scootaloo flapped her wings once, careful to not disrupt the contents of her saddlebags with them as she pointed to the lightning bolt. "When I can fly, I hit things with the force of a lightning strike," she said proudly.
Apple Bloom gestured to her wrench, and then the apple-shaped crystal slotted into it. "I'm a magitek expert," she chirped, the glee shining in her eyes.
Diamond rolled her eyes once more. Somehow, they weren't smoking or leaving skid marks in her sockets. "And how'd you three do that, get into things you weren't supposed to?" she said, malicious glee sparkling in her eyes as she thought up new ways to humiliate her favorite targets. So what if they were no longer blank flanks? As far as she was concerned, they just opened up a whole new avenue of torment now that they had earned their cutie marks.
Scootaloo grinned. "We'll tell you when we get to that section of our report, or perhaps after it," she said. She had a dark gleam in her eyes as she saw Diamond's machinations brewing in her own set of purple pools, and thought up ways to prepare her counterattacks before those attempts could even get off the ground.
"Mainly, despite all of the soldiers having been more or less unwilling for the Trials of Attrition, the soldiers choose to stay in their employment, though they branch out to other functions to maintain the day-to-day life of the Aerie. In fact, almost all of the soldiers, from the lowest-ranking Private to the fierce General himself, have side-hobbies they engage in when off the clock. For some, it is engaging in tea parties with members of their specific squadrons, and discussing magitek; for others, it is crafting instruments out of natural ingredients such as wood and vines. For the Lieutenant-Generals, it is sparring sessions between the three of them, complete with brushing up on their magics to hone themselves for future combat. Sometimes the General joins in, and other times he doesn't."
"In fact, the most important thing in the Aerie's culture, besides unity, is the freedom to choose—the freedom to forge your own path, choose how far you go, and what crossroads you take. Any path within the military, or beyond it, is entirely of one's choosing regardless of whether they enlist or not. They do not like the idea of child soldiers—in fact, they balk at it—but recognize that on Fantasia, some children simply have nobody else to turn to. Even then, they emphasize the importance of childhood, and do their best to keep whatever few children and teenagers that wind up in their ranks away from the bloodshed until they're certain they are truly ready for combat."
"As a result of their leaders being castoffs of Fantasian society, the Aerie unfortunately comes upon many such cases of children with nobody else to turn to, those cast out of towns and villages simply for clinging to the dream of one day obtaining their own cutie marks and making a name for themselves in the world. Other children, unfortunately, flee from horrific situations—being forced into marriages with older stallions, or fleeing from otherwise certain death, their tragic tales always incentivising the Aerie to hunt down those responsible for hurting those poor children, and slaying them where they stand."
The class shuddered. Even Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon looked pale at the mere mention of the sordid practice. "Ch-child brides…? Fantasia… has that problem…?" Pipsqueak stammered, unable to wrap his mind around it.
Scootaloo gravely nodded. "The Fantasians didn't say that to us outright, but… we read between the lines with everything we learned over there," she said. She allowed the class a moment to calm themselves down and remember that such sordid atrocities would not happen to them in Equestria if Celestia could help it, and then sucked in a breath to steel her own nerves and continue.
"While the Aerie does favor freedom as one of its core virtues, they recognize that even it has hard limits if they want society to function. As a result of Fantasia's many failings, they have made the age of consent in their section of their world a solid twenty-one years of age, based on a changeling's final molt before they reach full adulthood. In addition, arranged marriages, marriages to secure alliances, and any marriage involving a child who cannot consent are illegal in their territory, punishable by the highest sanctions that call for the gelding, death, and cremation of the guilty party, and not necessarily in that order."
"I'm sorry if I sound rude, but… does the Aerie have fair trials?" Cheerilee asked.
Scootaloo turned to her teacher and sadly shook her head. "No, because over on Fantasia, the guilty always leaves… evidence behind," she said. "And heaps of it, enough for them to be able to skip the trial entirely."
Cheerilee nodded, despite the fact that she was unhappy with what she was hearing. "Very well then… no further objections," she said dejectedly.
Scootaloo nodded, and continued. "As a result of being extremely repulsed by the idiocy that has infected the rest of Fantasia, much of Fantasia doesn't like them for daring to challenge that idiocy. In addition to marriages where consent doesn't exist, they have also made forbidden dark magic, including geases, very, very illegal, due to the gryphon population being affected by it during the Trials of Attrition. As with forced marriages, anyone practicing such arts will usually get the axe on their necks, especially if found engaging in said arts right in the middle of a deadly ritual or equivalent. The victims of the dark magic are not blamed, and are generally cured and treated wherever found."
"In addition, the Aerie is young enough that it effectively has not formed any traditions of its own yet, being only around eight years old, give or take a few months. However, they clash with more traditionalist societies, especially ones that practice things which gets its military to kill the practitioners thereof on sight. The closest equivalent would be the Lonesome March, a funerary service for Fantasia's forgotten castoffs that did not live long enough to make it to the Aerie. They undertake the March yearly, because otherwise, the forgotten would come back as vengeful wraiths, and be unable to go back to the afterlife afterwards."
Scootaloo paused to look at her classmates again. Her expression turned somber. "We… we've seen the Lonesome March in action," she said somberly. "It… is not a happy affair." She flipped the booklet around to show off the illustration of a crying, winged statue of a foal with a red X scored over his cutie mark. The illustration captured the fear of the last moments that foal had spent living in, and the class shuddered even as pity flashed in their eyes.
The only one who didn't get the memo yet rolled her eyes and shook her head, her perpetually-upturned snout sniffing loftily. "Well, perhaps it is better that the forgotten died," she said menacingly, without an iota of remorse. "That's what they get for not being rich and important." While they did take issue with the ignoramus disrespecting Fantasia's lost and forgotten members of its societies, they knew that fighting an adult would not go so well with their education, even if said adult has as much fighting experience as an earthworm. Thus, the Crusaders chose to ignore the one-mare peanut gallery, and flipped their report back around to continue.
Helping the head of the school board's case was that technically, the deceased weren't around to hear her disrespecting them… or maybe they were, but Godcat might have told them to stay their hooves and claws. The Crusaders weren't sure, but they could've sworn they heard leonine growling in the distance. They shrugged it off and continued with their report.
"Due to changelings making up a majority of the Aerie's population, and the gryphons most of the remainder, they value love almost as much as they do their freedom—the love for one another, their city-state, and their former enemies as fellow soldiers and friends. As a result, racism at the Aerie is strictly outlawed, with any offenders either being given the boot out of their lands, or a one-way trip to the Iron Hold… at least, until they can figure out something more appropriate for the racists in question. As a result of a current lack of a court system, there are no trials for racists, or anyone found committing crimes they murderously despise, but there is hope that this will change in the future."
"The old gryphon leaders, who have become undead after the Trials of Attrition, are currently in the Iron Hold, kept in solitary confinement and with cells that won't let any sound out to keep their racist platitudes to themselves. As for any changeling royalty, there isn't any, due to the royalty having been wiped out at the beginning of the Trials of Attrition. Presumably, they were as racist as the old gryphon leaders… and paid dearly for their incompetence."
"As another result of their anti-racism stance, they've taken in more… unusual members as of late. There have been confirmed a hippogryph soldier, two crystal ponies, a diamond dog, and a wraith who wishes to remain anonymous as of this report. Despite most wraiths being hostile to the Aerie, those who can set aside their hatred and despair are welcome warmly at the Aerie, despite being few in number. While those numbers are small, perhaps they can grow in time, if more and more creatures on Fantasia choose to set aside pre-established traditions and mindsets and go against the grain."
"As for the Aerie's religion… they presently do not have one. However, they are 'Godcat-aligned,' meaning they do not actively worship Her or Faust… but take Their existences very seriously. This is due to the General and his Lieutenants and Colonel moving in to stop Godcat when She was awoken and unsealed, and restoring Her to Her senses in combat. Currently, as of this report, Faust remains at large… but if She too is unsealed, the Aerie will make every effort possible to deal with Her just the same."
The Perpetually-Upturned Nosey Judge of Bad Perfumes sniffed loftily again. "A military, besting gods in combat?" Her eye began to twitch at the mere thought. "Never before have I heard such rubbish… but do continue, girls. It would be a shame if you didn't get to finish." The Crusaders nodded, and didn't balk, gulp, or shudder, for they had more ammunition yet, and the artillery shells were begging to be fired. She would have smiled at their seeming foolishness… had she not realized that they weren't afraid of her at that moment. Her teeth started to grind at the thought, the dawning realization that she hadn't intimidated these fillies.
Diamond's eyes widened, and flicked back and forth between her parent and her favorite targets. She knew, instantly, her mother's emerging war face, and realized something was up. The Crusaders just smiled innocently, and for the first time, she noticed the very damning glint in their eyes as they said, in unison, "Gladly."
They had just one last section to wrap up anyway in this chapter. "The changelings of the Aerie have, obviously, bug-themed names, and the gryphons' naming convention is all over the place. The ponies of the Aerie have a phenomenon that allows them to see glimpses of the future of their foals as they go into labor, similar to Equestira, but because of a lack of cutie marks, they have adopted a strange naming system. The first names are either assigned by a parent, and rarely, full names, and other times the ponies just give themselves a last name if they obtain their cutie mark. Rarer still, a pony gives themselves a full legal name to go by, on the grounds that they hadn't been assigned one before to begin with. Some gryphons will also adopt equine-sounding names, and form squadrons within the Aerie, acting as special ops of sorts."
"As a result, Fantasian ponies… have weird-sounding names, many whose first names seem to lack any meaning to any Equestrian that hears them. In conjunction with their last names, it sounds even weirder, as the last names are typically molded after whatever cutie marks they have. There are cases where a pony's name does not match their mark if they have one, due to pre-existing circumstances. However, in all cases, a Fantasian pony's name will be indicative of any characteristics they have just the same—it just takes a bit of guesswork for the name to make sense, once an Equestrian hears it."
Diamond rolled her eyes. How her eyes hadn't gone into orbit yet, the trio could only wonder. "Like, I dunno, Micheal Hay?" she said, spinning a hoof in the air.
The Crusaders shook their heads. "No, like Red Barrel as a name," they said in unison.
"Pft, whatever, still stupid-sounding," Diamond stated nochalantly, grinning horribly.
"I agree with my daughter; the Fantasian naming conventions leave much to be desired." The perpetually-upturned snout managed to rise even higher with the horrible sneer that decorated the head of the school board's face. "Well? Are you going to finish with this stupid balderdash?" she asked, as if in a challenge.
The Crusaders nodded, and readied the next shells in their artillery fire. So they steeled themselves, moving on to the next chapters of their report, reading them to the class, and showing off illustrations and photographs along the way. The first photograph provoked an interesting reaction from Diamond Tiara. "Wait—how did you—when did you—" was all she could manage, as the photograph showed the Aerie in its entirety.
The Crusaders kept their grins. "The Lieutenant-Generals have a camera," Apple Bloom answered.
"How—" Diamond stammered, going bug-eyed. "This—"
"That's so cool! Irongrey Aerie has technology similar to ours?" Pipsqueak asked, awed as he got up from his seat to better look at the photograph. Cheerilee did not move to stop him. "That's so… so sharp and crisp! How do they do that?"
"Like we said: their gryphons are engineers," Scootaloo answered.
"That's cheating!" Diamond Tiara roared, and made to get up out of her seat when her mother trotted over to plant a hoof on her withers. At first, she was about to object, but then noticed the damning glare her mother wore, directed at the three Crusaders who dared to go above and beyond for their report. Who dared to outshine her progeny with something authentic. Who dared cover the same planet her daughter did. Yet oddly, she could hear hoofsteps entering the short hall outside, idly wondering who it was and what they were doing here at this time of day, which she chose to ignore anyway. The hoosteps outside only stopped right beyond the door, then halted, and the door creaked slightly ajar as if of its own mind.
"No. Allow me to take care of this. I will personally tear that report up to make sure that my precious doesn't have any competition," the head of the school board said darkly, and strode up towards the three with grim purpose. She did not stall, she did not stop, she did not halt until she got there. Diamond watched, and sneered, yet she had a sinking feeling in her gut that this would not go over so well.
The mysterious presence beyond the door watched, and the head of the school board was oblivious to their presence, even as she wasted no time using a hoof to shove Pipsqueak out of the way. "Out of my way, you wretched transplant from Trottingham!" she howled as he protested with a sharp whine. Before the Pristine President of Planet Prissy-Pants could carry out her attempt to shred the report then and there, somepony knocked on the door. The head of the school board turned to it and asked, "Who is it, and what do you want?"
"It's Medical Records, Chief of Staff for Ponyville's School Board. Is the Superintendent in this classroom?" the pony on the other side asked.
"Yes… what is it?" the head of the school board asked, nose wrinkling at the interruption.
"It's important, Superintendent. You're being summoned to an emergency meeting, and you were nowhere to be found," Medical Records answered.
"Whatever for? Who is doing the summoning?" the head of the school board asked.
"The Equestrian Education Association. You need to come, like, right now," Medical Records answered in a severe tone of voice. The head of the school board paled, even as she wondered what the Equestrian Education Association wanted her for. "They said it was for, and I quote, 'the Superintendent's abysmal code of conduct this last year alone.' And I will be telling them what I just heard from the other side of this door, so you had better show up if you value your job."
"C-coming…" the head of the school board said, her bravado evaporating as she trotted to the door, and then out of it with haste.
The Crusaders sighed in relief, and then moved to help Pipsqueak back onto his hooves. "Are you okay?" Sweetie asked.
Pipsqueak nodded, and dusted himself off. "For being smacked by an adult, I'm quite alright," he answered. He turned to the door. "She hit me with about as much force as a brick, and I think I'll bruise, but it's nothing major to write about. Now why would Equestria's Equestrian Education Association summon her?" he wondered.
"... for hitting a child?" Scootaloo hedged with a shrug.
"I'd like to believe for far worse than that," Pipsqueak said, shrugging himself.
The Crusaders shrugged, and made to continue with their report, enlisting Pipsqueak's help to distribute the photographs that weren't attached to their report around the class, showing off the Aerie and its functions from even more angles. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon sulked in their seats, grumbling about how unfair it was.
But for the bullies, the Crusaders had one last surprise—the story of how they had obtained their cutie marks. Recounting that once they concluded their report was fun, and they watched with delectable glee as they showed off a few extra photographs that they had taken of their new, military-made-and-approved gear, and authentic medals for the whole class to gawk at. By that point, Diamond's jaw had all but dropped, as well as Cheerilee's. The rest of the class gaped at first, and then broke out into smiles.
"You fought a-a-a magical construct, in the factory… and that was how you got your cutie marks?!" Pipsqueak asked, eyes wide.
"Nevermind that, it was an attack from another province that decided to declare war with the Aerie?!" Snips cried, eyes equally as wide.
"You were launched from a harp acting as a bow, and that was how you flew?!" Snails howled, scarcely able to believe his own ears.
"The magical construct fought the General and his Lieutenants, and came close to carrying out its schemes?!" another classmate questioned, her eyes wide.
"And that wath what the cute-thañera wath about?" Twist asked, grinning at the prospect. "If I had a military throwing my cute-thañera, I'd be a pretty happy pony mythelf."
Cheerilee rapped the desk with a hoof to garner the foals' attention. "Now, now, everypony," she called. "I know you have lots of questions to ask Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom, but we have more reports to go over, do we not?" At their nods, she smiled warmly. "Alright; any further questions you have, you can ask them over lunchtime and recess. In the meantime, clear the stage for Snips and Snails!" The Crusaders high-fived and took their goods back to their desks, making sure to close their saddlebags to keep the contents from escaping.
The look of utter defeat and humiliation on Diamond Tiara's face, they found, was oh so worth it.