//------------------------------//
// Part Sixty-Six 
// Story: The Princess and the Kaiser 
// by UnknownError 
//------------------------------//

Flashes lit up the horizon to the west, matched by echoing blasts a moment later. Flurry Heart watched from the balcony of Twilight’s castle. Her ragged mane blew softly in a light wind; the curls had just grown long enough to obscure the purple crystal band resting on her head.

The alicorn turned on the balcony and looked up to the north. Mount Canterhorn was visible from the low valley. Ponyville was once close enough to be directly administered by the Diarchy, and the Canterlot Commissariat in the wake of Chrysalis’ victory designated the town as a ‘historic site,’ the attempts to destroy Twilight’s castle not-withstanding.

Canterlot’s lights glowed in the night sky, resembling a lighthouse beacon in the center of Equestria. Hanging off the side of the mountain, it was an easy target for long-range artillery, and the winding road that led to the city gates could be blasted apart. The same counted for the railway that dug through a portion of the Canterhorn.

As much as unicorns loved mountains, the capital of Equestria and the seat of the Princesses was only easily accessible from the air. The four circular city districts extended from Canterlot Castle, back into the mountain and the road below.

Lower Canterlot, closet to the city gates on the mountain, housed the majority of the earth ponies that worked the dockyards, and the lower-class servants for the castle and nobility. The great dockyards in Lower Canterlot ferried imports from all across Equestria from dirigibles and zeppelins. The lowest class lived the farthest from their Princesses, Flurry snorted.

Middle Canterlot was an eclectic mix of merchants, traders, pegasi, and unicorns without expansive pedigrees dating back to the Three Tribes. It was the arts district, and the city center held frequent celebrations. Flurry’s family had lived there, once. Twilight and Shining’s parents had a modest townhome just off the city center. Even after their children became royalty, Twilight Velvet and Night Light never moved from their home. I wonder if it’s still there. Chrysalis probably turned it into a museum.

The final two districts surrounded Canterlot Castle. Upper Canterlot and the Estates were reserved for foreign embassies and the nobility. The nobles of Equestria were neutered by the extensive bureaucracy Celestia built around herself, but they still wielded generational wealth effectively in elections and courts. Flurry couldn’t see the castle, nor the estates from Ponyville. It’s amazing that all that gold and marble doesn’t just drag the city off the mountain.

In the city proper, spotlights waved wildly into the darkness, with tracer fire and anti-air guns peeling into the sky to deter any errant planes. There weren’t any planes to deter; the Reich’s air force wasn’t trying to take Canterlot. The tanks gave the mountain a wide berth, wary of incoming fire from the city.

On the contrary, the shock offensive was forcing the Changelings up the mountain.

The pincer attack from the Everfree and around Canterhorn seemed to take the Changelings by surprise. At the very least, no frenzied Griffonian reinforcements were attempting to fly over the Everfree Forest. Flurry squinted up at Canterlot and tilted her head. Her horn glowed softly.

I could probably hit the castle from here. It was an intrusive thought, one that she had dismissed many times already. Canterlot was too valuable to destroy. And maybe too costly to take.

The Changeling radio broadcasts in Canterlot had cut off suddenly earlier that night, once the attack began. Flurry was wary. Either the Hegemony was far weaker than she anticipated, or the attack succeeding was part of some greater plan. Canterlot was the ultimate symbol of Chrysalis’ victory; she would never let it fall. The pink alicorn trotted back indoors, sparing one last glance at the flashes to the west.

She shook out her wings as she passed several stacked boxes of equipment, moved out of the Castle of the Two Sisters in preparation for the Reich’s advance. The alicorn’s uniform had finally frayed to pieces over the past week, so she was clad in plain black sweatpants for her modesty. Flurry walked to her private room, passing by several sets of guards, all of them crystal ponies or griffons.

The reinforcements coming down from Stalliongrad linked up with the sparse shipments of equipment from Weter and the coast; the shield still blocked all attempts to cross with weapons. After some arguments and hostile looks, the ELF resettled into the School of Friendship with more of Flurry’s hardened soldiers on the way. More equipment was being stockpiled at Fillydelphia in preparation for the encirclement.

Loyal soldiers, Flurry corrected herself. While Limestone, Fizzlepop, and Sunset had been somewhat accommodating, the common ELF vet still snorted at Flurry’s presence. Flurry didn’t care about the pomp and circumstance, but her army did.

The griffons, especially the Aquileians and Herzlanders fresh from the north, took offense on her behalf. Screeched insults and shouting matches became common when the troops mixed. The crystal ponies were worse; Flurry loved them dearly, but they were ready to throw hooves at the slightest provocation. A thousand years of abandonment had translated to a large diamond chip on their shoulders, especially once it became common knowledge that the ELF had effectively written Arctic Lily's attempted uprising off.

The divide was ideological. The ELF cells fought for a variety of reasons: some fought to restore Twilight, some fought to bring back the Diarchy, a few were even republicans. Fizzlepop and Sunset maintained that the ELF fought for Equestria, and that was true enough.

But Flurry’s soldiers fought for her. And they weren’t shy about saying so.

There had been a few cases of desertion, not that there was any true punishment for it; the Equestrian Liberation Front was built on volunteers. There was another violent attack as the old castle was vacated; a group of fourteen ponies were caught trying to steal explosive charges during the night. One of Flurry’s Tzinacatl watchponies spotted them and raised an alarm. The bat pony was killed with two others in the resulting shootout before the surviving five plotters surrendered.

Fizzlepop and Limestone had refused to give them to Thorax for questioning. The plot certainly had help from somepony higher up, but no suspects were immediately apparent. Limestone did not refuse Flurry’s demand that the survivors be executed, but the alicorn could see in the earth pony's hard yellow eyes that she dearly wished to do so. The bodies were disposed of quietly, but word spread amongst the gathered army. Ponyville was too crowded.

The split between the castle and the school had been mutual to deter further violence. Nopony had the time or patience to arbitrate disputes. After the execution, tempers cooled. Most likely due to the rumor that I killed them myself, Flurry snorted. It wasn’t true, and her method of execution varied depending on who was repeating the story. Her soldiers favored rope.

Flurry stopped outside her makeshift bedroom, nodding to Jadis and a crystal stallion named Pyrite. They stomped their hooves three times, causing the other ponies in the hallway to repeat the salute. Clad in black sweatpants and needing a shower, the light pink alicorn looked like she crawled out of a ditch. The uneven blue and purple tufts on her tail poked out from her pants.

Jadis withheld a slight laugh at Flurry’s deadpan expression. “Spike and Thorax are back with the armorer,” she reported.

“Obsidian’s here?” Flurry asked.

“Last minute adjustments,” Jadis responded. She leaned to one side and pointed her good hoof down the hallway. “You can see the marks along the floor from the boxes.”

Flurry craned her neck to spot several scuff marks along the crystal floor running the entire length of the hallway. “Heavy?”

“Spike had to shove them. The guards helped a bit.”

Flurry clicked her tongue. “All right, thanks.”

“Of course!” Pyrite exclaimed. He stomped his hoof again.

Flurry bit her lip as the sound echoed down the hallway. The stallion’s coat glittered, even at night, but his plain camouflage pants and jacket covered the worst of it. Jadis was naked, and her light blue coat sparkled even in the dim magic lighting.

Flurry made a mental note. Uniforms. Priority. You shine a flashlight on them, and they're going to sparkle in the night. She let Pyrite open the door and close it behind her. Flurry’s bedroom was on the interior of the castle. It was one of the libraries, long cleared out for storage space, and the only amenity was a cot and several low crates of canned food that could serve as tables and chairs. Considering that most ponies were packed at least a dozen in one room, sleeping in shifts, it was luxurious.

Four large wooden crates took up the center of the room tonight. The lids had already been removed; the packing straw carefully bundled back up to be reused for padding or extra insulation. There were several long weeks of cold weather before the spring thaw.

Obsidian, colored as his name, leaned over one of the boxes with goggles and a leather apron. Flurry was momentarily surprised; ponies shunned leather as a material. Spike rested against a wall, flexing his claws and puffing smoke. Thorax stood next to him, clad in his own purple uniform. The changeling noticed her arrival first.

“Princess,” Thorax said regally, “your armor has arrived.”

“And it’s going to break your spine,” Spike added from the floor.

Obsidian nickered from inside the box. “Do you not believe in miracles, Sir Spike?”

“That armor you made blew out an axle on one of our trucks,” Spike grunted. He shook his right claw with a flailing motion, trying to work feeling back into it.

Obsidian gave a muffled reply. “They already had too much ammunition on board.”

“Heavy?” Flurry asked.

“See for yourself,” Thorax answered. He reached his forelegs into the smallest box. After several hisses of effort, the changeling shakily lifted a purple half-helm into view. Made of solid purple crystal and crowned with six small spikes reminiscent of the Crystal Palace, the helmet curved along the shape of a muzzle.

Flurry plucked it from his hooves with her horn. It zipped through the air up to her muzzle, where she studied her bedraggled reflection in the crystal before flipping it upside down. The interior was padded. Flurry sat and dropped the helmet into one hoof. She bounced it idly, testing the weight. The crystal was cold to the touch.

“Not as heavy as I thought it would be,” the alicorn declared. “Is it enchanted?”

Obsidian’s tail swished with pride and he lifted his head out of the box. “The armor is enchanted to resist the elements. Fire and frost and electricity. For its sake more than your own, Princess.”

Thorax gave a single, chittering chuckle.

Flurry lifted the helmet above her head in her golden aura and gently slotted her horn through the opening. The helmet pressed down against her ears and pinned them down. It was a deeply uncomfortable fit. It covered the bridge of her muzzle, but not her lower jaw.

Obsidian noticed Flurry’s scowl. “Princess, the helmet was made according to your specifications.” He motioned to his white, swept-back mane. “It is a snug fit.”

Flurry blinked while processing his words. Her crystal band pressed into her fur along with her mane. Stupid. The alicorn yanked the helmet off and removed the band, tossing it onto her bed. She brushed her mane with a hoof while her short tail whipped in agitation.

“Right,” she announced, grateful that her pink fur hid the blush on her muzzle. She trotted over to her nightstand, a short box of full of canned peaches, and retrieved her bar of soap, then the dagger from under her pillow. “I need to shower anyway. I’ll shave it down.”

“It just grew back,” Spike pointed out.

“And it looks awful,” Flurry replied. She shook her head from side to side; the short, clumpy curls wiggled like earthworms.

“It would look better if you used shampoo,” Spike said flatly.

“Neither of you do,” Flurry jerked her head towards Thorax, who was struggling to lift a leg plate out of the box. The alicorn took it from him in her magic, spun it through the air, and set it down on the bed.

Spike the dragon flicked a claw at Flurry Heart with an unamused snort of smoke. “Twilight used to give me a mustache sometimes,” he groused. “I took better care of it than you do with your own hair.”

Flurry giggled and teleported to the bathroom. It technically wasn’t her bathroom; it was Twilight’s, then Sunset/Tempest’s. Fizzlepop, Flurry groaned in her head. The mare always corrected her with the utmost politeness. 

The Storm King’s Right Hoof had ravaged Zebrica at the behest of her overlord; Flurry had heard the story about the Storm King's defeat and Twilight redeeming her a dozen times through the years. The scarred unicorn certainly looked the part of a warlord, but let Limestone make most of the threats and shouting. Tempest Shadow, now Fizzlepop Berrytwist, was a bit of a disappointment to the teen.

With Sunset and Zecora still in the field, the bathroom was unoccupied. Flurry set her lone bar of soap down next to an old jar of mane gel. She poked the dagger into the top of the bar. Flurry quickly tested the valves in the shower using her horn. The hot water came on instantly, providing a refreshingly crystal-clear spray like a waterfall from the holes in the ceiling.

As always, Flurry squinted suspiciously at it and cast several spells, additionally warding the room. The Castle of Friendship didn’t have any indoor plumbing. It certainly wasn’t connected to the overrun Ponyville reservoir, and nopony could knock holes in the wall to see if there were pipes.

It was a magical crystal castle grown by the Tree of Harmony. Wherever it drew water from, it wasn’t anywhere nearby.

Flurry sniffed at the water as a last test. It smelled like mineral water. She sighed and stripped off her sweatpants before standing under the waterfall. In Weter, the water usually needed to be boiled in the ghetto before it was safe to drink. The pipes were old and leaked badly, and that was when they worked at all. The Everfree Resistance and the ELF had a supposedly infinite supply of fresh drinking water and an indestructible-if-gaudy headquarters.

And they whine about us using their supplies. What else were they waiting for? There was a thin crystal door to the shower, but Flurry left it open. Steam filled the room, but she could see the bathroom door with a quick glance.

Flurry levitated the soap bar and the dagger over. Her horn made it easy to scrub the hard-to-reach spots; she also formed a small, inverted shield with her magic and took a quick drink. Her magic gave the water an electric tang from gathering in the bowl.

The crystal walls were clear and bright enough to see her reflection with a bright golden flame from her horn. The magical fire didn’t sizzle in the waterfall. Flurry sighed at her reflection. A slim, long-legged alicorn stared back at her with icy eyes. Her oversized wings collected water in the primary feathers. With the downpour matting down her fur, her lean muscles and completely flat flank were visible. Water ran down her fiery Crystal Hearts, running through the fur on her cutie marks.

I didn't get these wings from mom, and everypony else was a unicorn. Some daughter of the Princess of Love.

Flurry Heart raised the dagger and began sawing through the wet, stringy curls. Her mane like to naturally curl into swirls, like her mother’s, and it took significant effort to straighten it. Her tail would do likewise if she let it grow back. She chopped her mane down to rough stubble, then looked over her shoulder and grabbed her short tail, holding it straight up to cut through.

She avoided looking at her flank in the crystal.

After it was done, Flurry turned the valves off and gathered the discarded hair into a large clump with her horn. She packed it tight into a small bubble shield and poured energy into it until it glowed white-hot. The hair vaporized too quickly to leave the acrid stench of burnt hair behind.

Flurry exited the shower dripping wet and crossed to the mirror. She used an elbow to wipe away the steam, then scrubbed the bar of soap against the rough, short strings of her mane. She folded her ears back, tilted her head down, and scraped the dagger across her head at several different angles until her mane was only blue and purple stubble again. She repeated the action with her tail, staring over her shoulder at her reflection with a mild frown. The little pink nub of her tailbone wasn’t going to shield anything.

Definitely need to wear pants from now on.

Flurry speared the much-diminished soap bar back onto the point of the dagger, then peered at one of the folded towels under the sink. It was Sunset’s, judging from the red monogramed sun. Flurry reached for it with a hoof, then reconsidered. Nah. Too petty. 

Flurry’s horn pulsed with blue fire. She took a deep breath closed her eyes. The fire raced down from her horn and swept across her body, leaving perfectly dry fur in its wake. The moisture in the air turned to steam around her for a moment; she extended her wings and adjusted the primary feathers as the flames turned to sparks. Flurry scuffed her hooves against the crystal to wipe away the circular scorch marks left when the flames dissipated around her hooves.

Her horn flashed as she dispelled the wards on the bathroom. Lacking any better options, she tugged her sweatpants back on before teleporting back to her room with the dagger and soap. Flurry reappeared just above her cot and landed on all four hooves. The flimsy cot creaked from her weight.

Thorax, Spike and Obsidian had finished unpacking the armor. The pieces lay on the floor in the rough shape of a tall pony. The greaves, flank, barrel, and chest plates were separate segments of crystal, matched with the helmet. The crystal was attached to metal plates at the joints for her legs.

Flurry was reminded of Grover’s knights, expect far heavier plate. There was the extra addition of a metal lattice to run down her wings, with sharp crystal shards jutting out along it. She spotted where it plugged into the cuirass at her wing joints.

Spike laid on his back on the floor. His eyes were glassy and he stared up at the ceiling blankly. He uttered in a monotone, “It’s very heavy.”

“Welcome back, Princess,” Obsidian bowed at the end of the cot.

“There’s a jumpsuit,” Thorax stated. He held up a folded black outfit in his green aura. “You’ll wear it under the armor.”

Flurry accepted it and unfolded the jumpsuit in the air. She scrunched her muzzle. “Looks like a Wonderbolt suit.”

“It’s plain black.”

“Not what I meant. It’s skin-tight.”

“It keeps your fur from getting worn down,” Obsidian explained. “There’s padding along the inside.”

Flurry unzipped it. She motioned with a foreleg for Obsidian and Thorax to turn around. The stallions self-consciously looked away as Flurry pulled her sweatpants off. Spike marginally moved his head to the side. The alicorn hopped off the bed and slid into the jumpsuit.

For a moment, she felt like a Wonderbolt, then the feeling immediately soured when she struggled to push her folded wings through the openings for them. She resorted to tugging them through with her mouth. Flurry noticed Thorax’s ears twitching as he suppressed a chirping laugh at the radiating embarrassment.

“Laugh it up, gossamer wings,” Flurry whickered.

Thorax didn’t laugh or turn back around, but he buzzed his wings at her in a cadence.

Flurry zipped the jumpsuit up and bent her legs. The suit didn’t cover her hooves or anything above the neck, but she could feel the soft pads on her back and legs. She trotted in place before announcing, “I’m decent.”

Spike glanced over at her. “You look like Twilight when she lost it about time travel that one time.”

“Thanks, Spike,” Flurry said sarcastically.

“It’s meant to be worn under the armor,” Obsidian repeated. “It will help with the fit.” He trotted over to the pieces on the floor. “Now,” he began, “it would take a team of crystal ponies to assemble this on one soldier, but you have a horn. Follow my instructions precisely, Princess.” He gave her a hard look.

Flurry nodded.

“Excellent,” Obsidian smiled. “We will begin with the metal plates…”

The process lasted over an hour. The leg segments, divided between her hock, cannon, and hooves, took half the time. The greaves and boots were solid crystal; her test hoof steps echoed into the hallway and rattled all the loose items on the nightstand.

The crystal affixed to the metal cuirass was the heaviest item. Flurry had to slip it on over her head, tilting her horn at a precise angle and threading her wings through the grooves before settling the armor down onto her back. The flank piece, made of several chunks of crystal affixed to flexible metal joints, attached to the back of the cuirass. True to her demand, there was no tail hole.

After that, the wing bracers were locked into the cuirass and the crystal shards carefully threaded along her feathers. She could refold her wings, but the movement was stiff. Flapping was easier. Two of the largest, sharpest shards were at the very end of her wings; when she bent her feathers in, they extended like knives.

Finally, the metal gorget locked into the cuirass at her chest. It prevented her from fully tilting her muzzle downwards, but it protected her neck and a slight lip shielded the bottom of her jaw. The armored alicorn paced around the room as a test before retrieving the helmet. Her hooves sounded like a dropped bowling ball on the crystal floor.

Flurry levitated the helmet over. She took a deep breath and slid her horn through the opening. It settled onto her head without issue, but the padding did muffle Obsidian’s quiet humming as he circled her with a critical eye.

“The fits looks good,” he mumbled quietly. Flurry only heard him with her alicorn-sensitive hearing.

“What?” she half-shouted.

“Battles are hardly quiet affairs at any rate,” he said in a louder tone. “The full helmet would be worse. We could have holes for your ears.”

“No.”

Obsidian snorted and smirked. “As you wish.”

Spike finally sat back up, propping himself upright with two elbows. He bit his lip. Flurry was at least a hoof taller in the armor. She towered over Thorax, who leaned against the wall and out of the way.

Flurry smirked and clomped over to the dragon. “You should get some armor, Sir Spike.”

He didn’t reply.

Flurry frowned. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry you had to carry everything.”

Spike stood up with a groan and walked over to a stacked-up pile of crates. He shoved them aside, revealing the large mirror that Sunset had dragged up from the basement. She said it was useless; a large crack ran through the middle. Flurry had idly asked if it was special, and Sunset replied caustically that it was “better off as just a mirror.”

Flurry inhaled at the armored mare in the mirror. Taller than anypony except Celestia, the mare was an obvious target on the battlefield. The armor covered her entirely, except for part of her muzzle. Enchanted to withstand withering direct fire, the purple crystal absorbed the light in the room. It did not sparkle. Her horn was the seventh and tallest spire on the helmet. Not a helmet. A crown.

Flurry Heart made eye contact with the mare in the mirror. The first Crystal Empress glared back.

They say my heart is as hard as crystal. Let us see what their words are worth.

Flurry blinked and exhaled with a nervous huff. The resemblance to the mare that the Crystal Heart had shown her was uncanny. The armor hid her slender frame; she looked like an adult. Amore's ancestor. I wonder what she would've thought of her descendants...

“I am concerned about your flying ability,” Obsidian remarked behind her. “The armor is enchanted, of course, but we prioritized magical resistance and survivability.”

Flurry hopped. Her hooves slammed into the floor with a reverberating thunderclap. Everyone flinched at the sound, including Flurry Heart. She carefully extended her wings and gave a test flap.

Nothing happened.

She flapped harder and ceased when it kicked up Obsidian’s notes. She quickly collected them in her aura and passed them back with an apologetic smirk. “I’ll have to test it outside.”

Obsidian nodded. “In the morning, then. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can make any needed adjustments. How’s the weight?”

“Bearable,” Flurry shrugged a wing stiffly. “I’ll try to gallop outside tomorrow morning.”

“Let’s do it in private,” Spike suggested. “We’ll teleport back to the gorge.”

“Why?” Flurry asked. “The Reich has supply trails running through Ponyville.”

“Flurry,” Thorax said carefully, “Spike is trying to say that you look utterly intimidating.”

Flurry looked back at the frowning Crystal Empress in the mirror. Her cold blue eyes were half-hidden by the helmet, but her lower jaw was tense. “Is that a problem?”

“Things are volatile with the ELF right now,” Thorax explained. “Marching around in full battle armor is going to provoke somepony.”

“Why?” Flurry snorted. “Because Twilight Sparkle never wore armor? I’m sick of hearing about aunt Twilight and her precious Equestria.” Flurry paced in front of the mirror. “Half of the ELF only want to save her to chain her to a parliament.”

“Talk like that doesn’t help,” Spike stated.

“I’ve been nothing but honest with them,” Flurry replied. “Why does it matter I’m from the Crystal Empire? I have every right to claim Equestria. My mother and father grew up in Canterlot; I’m Twilight’s niece.”

“Most of the ELF don’t want you to rule Equestria,” Thorax interrupted. His ears wilted. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. The Empire was never integrated into the rest of the Principality of Equestria; there wasn’t enough time before its return and the war. Crystal ponies have always been separate.”

"Who's fault is that?" Obsidian muttered under his breath.

“I’m not seeing many alternatives,” Flurry deadpanned. “I am their Princess, whether they like it or not.”

Spike swished in tail. “You sound like Nightmare Moon.”

Flurry rolled her eyes at Spike. “Because of the armor? Come on, she-”

“What happens if Twilight’s alive?” Spike interrupted.

Flurry cut herself off. “She’s the Princess of Equestria and I rule beside her in a restored Diarchy,” she recovered. “I’ve already said that.”

“And what happens when she hears about the Crystal City?” Spike continued. “About the hangings and the executions?”

Flurry narrowed her eyes. “I show her my mother.”

“What will you say when she asks about the executions in Manehattan?”

“I’ll ask her if she wants to look for the ditch her mother and father died in trying to rescue her!” Flurry snarled. “I’ll ask her if she wants to look for Starlight too!”

Spike closed his eyes. “Do you expect her to fight with you at the front?”

“She’ll be a far better administrator,” Flurry retorted, “and researcher.” She shook her head in agitation. “What? Do you think she’ll fight me?”

“No,” Spike said immediately, “but I’m concerned you even thought that was an option.”

Flurry glanced at Thorax from the side of her helmet, but the changeling didn’t react. "Regardless of how the ELF operates now," Thorax said, "they started as upholding the tenets of harmony. Many still believe they do."

"There's not much difference between my army and the ELF," Flurry nickered. "How many Changeling prisoners do they take?"

“The more pressing concern is Grover,” Thorax added. “The Reich has recognized you as the sole Princess of Equestria, and Twilight joined the others in acknowledging the Griffonian Republic as the legitimate government before the war.”

“Grover has a copy of the Friendship Journal,” Flurry dismissed. “He’s not going to make an issue of it. Most griffons like Twilight enough anyway. Grover won’t expect me to side against my own family.”

“What if it becomes an issue?” Spike asked. “The ELF views her as the rightful Princess of Equestria, and she’ll never approve of everything you agreed to.” The dragon stared at Obsidian for a moment before returning to Flurry. “What will you do if it comes between her and Grover?”

It’ll be between her and Equestria. We need their army.

Flurry stared at her reflection, then Obsidian behind her. He sat quietly with his notes. “Thank you for the armor,” she said over her shoulder.

“I was happy to make it,” Obsidian replied quietly. “I will be happier still if you could slay Chrysalis in it.”

“I’ll do my best,” Flurry answered with a grim smile. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.” The armorer set his notes down.

“Do you believe that Princess Twilight is alive?”

“Don’t,” Spike growled. “Don’t go there, Flurry.”

Thorax began to pile up the packing straw again in his magic. He didn't offer his opinion.

Flurry used the mirror to make eye contact with Obsidian. The crystal pony swallowed and returned to his notes. “I do not wish to disagree with Sir Spike,” he stated.