“Last stop,” Sunset announced, as she and Smolder neared the suburban residence of the final candidate. Enough hours had passed since they left Cran Convenience (assuming Cadance had left the sun where it was scheduled to be) that the sky was bronzed with Sunset’s namesake, and all the houses cast long shadows. “Are you sure you don’t want to, I don’t know, sender-breathe your stuff somewhere safe before we pay our visit?”
Smolder glowered, her eyes level with Sunset’s. Had the drake always been so tall? “I’m not letting it out of my sight and you can’t make me.”
Admittedly, the hoard-pile was a lot smaller now. Children of any species, it seemed, all possessed the same terrifying power to remove sugary treats from existence. At this point, it was mostly just the miscellaneous holiday decor that had been spared the dragon’s fangs.
In any case, remote delivery was out of the question.
It would also have been very time-consuming to walk back to the palace and hide it somewhere there, since this location was the furthest away that their mission had taken them. These terraced suburbs, put up in the last century or so, were built outside Canterlot’s ancient walls, a little ways down the Canterhorn, for those Canterlites who wanted a taste of what it was like to live on a country estate.
Without actually being in the countryside. Or having to afford a country estate.
Some would call it aspirational. Sunset called it phony.
The final candidate’s home looked like all the others in the neighborhood: two stories, a garage for a cart, and the expected purple-and-white cladding with gilded trim that was on everything else in Canterlot.
It had the honor of being the most nondescript house in the neighborhood. Other houses along the drive left prismaplastic foals’ toys out in their front yards to fade in the sun, or they mounted flags of Equestria/Canterhorn Province/Chevalon County on poles, all of which hung limp in the breezeless heat of summer.
But at this particular house, there was nothing at all to betray anypony’s individuality.
Well, next-to-nothing. Under a second-floor bedroom(?) window was a sill-mounted planter growing heliotropes, whose violet flowers blended unobtrusively into the rest of the purple.
It looked like nopony lived in it – not in the sense of abandonment, but in the sense that it was so impersonally clean, as though it were built only a week ago, still on the market, and the realtor was sending somepony by every day to keep the front lawn meticulously trimmed and presentable. The only thing missing was a ‘for sale’ sign, and Sunset wouldn’t have been surprised if the only reason one was absent was because some bratty neighborhood foal had made off with it.
But the address was right. 6555 Meadowbrook Way. Sunset vaguely recalled reading something or other about a Meadowbrook before, as part of her studies. Some sinecorn who dabbled in trying to understand real magic from the tribal sidelines. This street was probably named after her.
Sunset observed the house for a few seconds. Not a single sound, nor any internal light, escaped.
Well, Sunset probably had a minute to read the mare’s cover letter and keep an ear cocked for any sounds of life. After Sour, she wanted to be prepared for whatever insanity might lay ahead of her.
As she unsheathed the file from its folder, the attached photo slipped its paperclip prison and fluttered to the ground. Smolder was quick to snatch it up and add it to her pile. She had a bet to lose, after all.
|There is no mare possessed of quite as diverse an array of talents as Sunny Flare,| wrote Cinch. Sunset remembered the name from the sole magic competition trophy at Crystal Prep. |Not only has Miss Flare lent her skills to every pursuit, academic and extra-curricular, available to her; she has proven herself well-capable in every avenue to which she has applied herself.|
Sunset was picking up on wildcard notes like Sour’s sheet, which wasn’t a great sign.
|Of particular note is her involvement with the theatre department, where she has, so-to-speak, played every role, from actress, to set builder, to costume designer, to stage technician, obtaining a wide range of social and technical experience and expertise.
|One cannot neglect, either, her prodigious magical talent. As a unicorn quarter-marked in the image of the sun itself,| – is that what it was supposed to be? – |Miss Flare is destined to stand proud alongside such sorcerers as Corona Glamor, Parhelion Halo, and the current Royal Student, Sunset Shimmer.|
Ignoring that this would have read really badly if Sunset had been successfully dismissed, Sunset purred, “Okay, Cinch, flattery will get you places…”
Then she read, |Perhaps, if Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia had elected in her grace to visit a different school on that afternoon, she might have chosen our Sunny Flare to be her pupil, instead.|
“Nevermind! You can say goodbye to that goodwill.”
Smolder cocked a brow at Sunset’s outburst with a confusion that was too bored to seek resolution.
|Yet despite all of these qualities which elevate Miss Flare above her peers, she remains courteous and humble, bearing every trial with quiet dignity and respect.|
Okay, so she probably wasn’t flagrantly insane, but you know what they said about the quiet ones.
|For all of these qualities, Miss Flare will make an excellent addition to any team. If any prospect in this dossier catches the reader’s eye most sharply, one should hope it is her.|
So Sunny had Cinch’s fullest backing. Sunset wondered why.
For the entire length of the reading, still no sounds emerged. Maybe nopony was home? That would be just her luck, wouldn’t it? Getting all but one of her recruits in the same day and having to make another expedition into suburbia tomorrow.
Only one (legal) way to find out. Sunset approached and rapped her hoof on the door with enough force to scuff the paint.
Immediately, a mare within answered, urgency straining her voice. “I’ll be right there!”
And she was, her hoofbeats echoing through the building until, only a couple seconds later, a dainty ripple of wisteria enveloped the door knob. With a click, the door swung inward to reveal a unicorn – the only unicorn candidate – and, in fact, a unicorn whom Sunset had already seen that day, her face scrunched into a confused squint.
“Oh, hey,” observed Smolder, “It’s the coffee bartender. I was right.”
“The term is ‘barista’, dearie,” the barista corrected. “…Why did you follow me home?”
Well, scat. –But there was still a chance this was the wrong mare. “We were hoping to speak to a Sunny Flare. Does she live here?”
“Why yes, she does! Allow me to fetch her.” She closed the door.
Sunset didn’t even get a second to sigh relief, nor Smolder to groan in disappointment. Just inside, they could hear somepony walking in a circle before the door opened again.
It was the same unicorn. Same coat as blue as a robin’s egg. Same orchid mane and tail, the former cut into an inverted bob, whose bangs were parted by her horn, and the latter cropped short to match the bob. The only difference was, without her apron and uniform, Sunset got a good look at her cutie mark: a very stylized sun (apparently) in copper and gold, whose eight flaring spokes met with arcing curves that reminded Sunset of more of a spinning pinwheel than her mentor’s emblem.
Regardless, the bet was officially lost. “Hah!”, shouted Smolder. “I win!”
Sunny Flare regarded the dragon with subdued disdain for only a moment before returning her attention to Sunset. Coyly, she coyly brushed a bang with her hoof. Some sort of hair product gave her mane and tail a metallic lustre that complimented the dark purple eyeshadow above her magic-matched lilac eyes. She clearly put quite a bit of care and attention into her appearance.
“Somepony wanted to see me? Somepony who followed me home to see me?”
Sunset redirected her annoyance at losing the bet into annoyance that she could very well have avoided coming all the way out here in the first place. “We didn’t follow you home! We did other errands and then came here.” This failed to please Miss Flare in the slightest, but Sunset barreled forward anyways. “–And if I’d known I was looking for you earlier, I wouldn’t have had to find out where you live in the first place, but somepony didn’t wear her nametag!”
“You never asked.”
“I’m sorry! I thought it was good customer service to give me your name unprompted!” If Sunset was sitting down, she would have pinched the bridge of her snout between her hooves. “Look, let’s just pretend we haven’t met and that you’re the complete stranger I was expecting on the other side of this door.”
“As you wish.” She shifted into a neutral expression. “Can I help you, Ms. …?”
“Sunset Shimmer, Royal Student, Assistant to Princess Cadance, and all that jazz.”
Instantly, her demeanor fell back into annoyance. “Oh. I know why you’re here. –Listen, dearie, I don’t care what Abacus put you up to, but I’m not… interested…” As her words wandered, so did her gaze, which Sunset followed to where it fell on Smolder. “Actually, I can’t ignore it any longer: what’s with the festive dragon? Are you going to drape my house in hideous holiday kitsch if I don’t hear you out?”
Well, there was an idea. Sunset shot a roll-eyed glare at Smolder that she hoped communicated ‘just play along’ before the dragon could object. “We sure will.”
“Good. It’ll peeve my mother off. Have a nice day.”
And then, horn dimly glowing, she slammed the door – or would have, if it weren’t effortless for Sunset to contest her with her own magic. So much for |prodigious magical talent|. It was like hoof-wrestling a weanling, and Sunset didn’t believe in going easy. The door stayed open.
Sunny Flare soon gave up, the strain of what was objectively not a lot of magical exertion plain in the sweat beading on her face and the quickness of her breath. “Ugh! Fine! Come in and make your little pitch so you can get out of here before Mother comes back with the groceries.”
“Thank you.” Sunset followed Sunny into the living room, which was, at least, not empty. It had furniture. And wall decorations, even. Paintings. Photos. It was still rather minimalist, but it couldn’t be called bare.
“Right,” Sunset began, into a simplified pitch, “I’m here on behalf of Princess Cadence to recruit you as a coordinator for her coronation ceremony. Are you really not interested?”
“I’m not.”
“…Why?”
Sunny just turned her head away, refusing to look at Sunset as she answered, “I already have a job. Besides, don’t you have staff to handle that sort of thing?” But Sunset caught the little, darting glance back in her direction as she said that.
“They’re busy,” Sunset countered. “But I’m sure you can ask for some time off from slinging bean-juice at some bit-a-bundle Canterlot cafe that your Headmare didn’t even bother to list on the employment section of your file.”
“Of course she wouldn’t.”
“Look, let’s just say that we want some fresh talent,” Sunset lied, “which is why we’ve brought on four other coordinators for the job.”
Sunny’s eyes narrowed when Sunset spoke the number. “Well I’m sure those four” – she just about spat the word ‘four’ – “have it all handled. After all, dearie, too many cooks spoil the grand, once-in-a-millennium, far-more-important-than-they’ll-ever-be soup.”
Sunset tried not to roll her eyes. Assuming all went well, Sunset’s coronation wouldn’t be more than a couple years off, but Sunny had no way of knowing that.
But what she had said did give Sunset a little material with which to deduce her motivations. She was probably (accurately) assuming the other four were her Crystal Prep acquaintances, and learning that they were involved seemed to only put Sunny off from the job offer even more. But that wasn’t where her aversion started…
As Sunset considered which words she could say to coax out Sunny’s interest, she idly scanned the room. The arrangement of decor was honestly quite pleasant, smoothly guiding her eyes from one accent to another. They followed a gentle trail from a well-stocked bookshelf, to the dust-free white porcelain vase sitting on top, to the painting of a sunrise over the opposite side of the Canterhorn nearby, to a family… photo…
There were three figures in the photo, descending, tallest to shortest, from left to right. They all had matching black turtleneck sweaters.
In the center, of course, was Sunny, looking stiff and uncomfortable in what was not, by any means, a formal photo.
To the right was a small, hairless cat, in an adorable cat-sized turtleneck. He seemed happy, or at least empty-headed.
And to her left was a mare that Sunset almost didn’t recognize without the glasses or the stern glare.
Everything clicked at the same time the lock in the front door did.
A dim, gray corona coiled its bony fingers around the handle and the mare in the photo let herself in before any of them could get up and grab the door.
“Ah, Ms. Shimmer! What a pleasant surprise,” intoned the coldly cordial voice of Abacus Cinch, levitating her deep-fuchsia saddlebags into an adjoining room that was probably the kitchen. “While I scarcely anticipated such an expedient pursuit of your recruitment drive, that’s most certainly not a complaint. Though, do pardon my interruption: Sunny, would you be a dear and bring the groceries in from the cart?”
Sunny’s compliance was immediate, instinctive. Any irritation she had been showing earlier had been buried beneath a neutral mien of solid stone as she got to her hooves. She didn’t even talk the same – she answered in a posh Transcelestial accent, just like Cinch’s, to say, “Yes, Mother.” Then, she left, without sparing a second glance back Sunset’s way.
Cinch cleared her throat, redirecting Sunset’s attention to her. “I’m afraid I must ask about the young dragon sitting in my chair.” She gestured to Smolder, who sat on a faux-leather armchair in front of her holiday hoard, guarding it with her body.
Something told Sunset that the ‘visiting envoy’ line would invite more questions that she did not care to answer. “Oh, that’s just Smolder. She’s my dragonmail assistant for the day, since I was initially going to be Cadance’s assistant before she got recalled to the palace. I’m sure you can understand how busy she is.”
Cinch hummed her acknowledgement.
“I can have her wait outside, if you’d prefer?”, Sunset offered.
Before Abacus could answer, Smolder herself piped up: “Yeah, I don’t think I need to be here for this.” She scooped up her things and made her way out. “Chair’s yours.”
Cinch gave a perfunctory “Thank you” and settled down with only a mild twitch of discomfort at its warmth. Likewise, Sunset finally decided to take a seat on the opposite couch. With the coffee table between them, it was almost like sitting in the headmare’s office again, with the only difference being that none of the guest seating was designed to be as uncomfortable as equinely possible.
They waited together, in awkward semi-silence, as cans and jars and tubs clanged around in the kitchen, until finally, Sunny emerged.
“So,” Cinch began, the moment she was present, “I presume you were filling my Sunny in on the details of her new employment?”
Uh-oh. Cinch was under the impression Sunny had already agreed.
What’s more, Sunny wasn’t exactly volunteering that she hadn’t. She just stood there, determinedly staring directly at nothing in particular, with that same expressionless pseudo-smile. She played a perfect background pony. Not a single hint of interiority slipped through the façade. She was as mindless as her cat; an empty vessel in the shape of a pony; a piece of furniture for her mother’s guests to appreciate.
Sunset… really wasn’t sure how she wanted to proceed. Cinch’s arrival complicated things massively, and Sunny’s abdication of her own ponyhood in her presence didn’t help.
It was hoped that Sunny would be the fifth candidate. That much was true. But it wasn’t like she absolutely needed Sunny. The backup plan for anypony’s disinterest was to just find somepony else to take the Bearer job and leave them out of the coronation planning part.
Still, Sunset had intended to try – or at least, to get to the bottom of why Sunny didn’t want the job. There was something she was on the verge of letting slip before Cinch’s presence clammed her up.
Discretion would be necessary from Sunset. Strictly speaking, she was tentatively prepared to divulge the real reason they needed Sunny Flare and her acquaintances, if need be, but the whole reason Sunset even got the dossier in the first place was the assurance that they would not be endangering Abacus’s former students’ lives with matters of national defense. The fact that her daughter was among their number finally explained that unexpected concern.
It was also – by the way – a bombshell that forced Sunset to reknit the entire social web she’d spent all day spinning. Sunny’s mother was the headmare of her prestigious school. Did she actually get in on her own merit, or did a bit of the old nepotism play into it? Judging just from Sunny’s pathetic aura, Sunset had a suspicion that it was the latter. It was the only way she could have made her school’s magic team – that, or they were really just that bad.
Just how many of Cinch’s claims in Sunny’s cover letter were exaggerations or even lies?
But, back to the idea of mentioning the true plan – technically, Sunset already had what they needed from Cinch, so perhaps she could mention the Bearers of Harmony thing. It’s not like the headmare had any authority over the other four Crystal Prep graduates… though she clearly held quite a bit of sway over her daughter.
Of course, that being the case, Sunset could always just go along with Cinch. Let her believe that her daughter had enthusiastically accepted the offer. Then, find a way to get Sunny on her own and level with her.
All this thinking nearly made Sunset forget to answer Cinch’s question. A terse “Ahem” snapped her back out of her analytical stupor.
Sunset put on her best smile and made her decision: the one that didn’t require her to waste her time finding somepony else. “We were! Not that we have too many of the fine details locked down quite yet; we’re still” – Sunset decided to shift into a more businesslike register – “adapting to unforeseen complications with the transition. When these things only happen once every few millennia, there are bound to be some hiccups here and there that need to be smoothed over.”
“Of course,” Cinch acknowledged.
The statue of Sunny still had nothing to say. Her gaze bored holes into the wall.
“But other than that,” Sunset continued, “I’d say it went pretty well. We’re happy to have your daughter on the team.”
“Excellent.” Cinch visibly relaxed into her chair. As she did so, she cast a quick, seemingly-approving smile in her daughter’s direction. “Please do keep us informed as you ‘lock those details in’, so-to-speak.”
“Will do!”
“Do you happen to have met with any of the other alumni yet?”
Well, if Sunny hadn’t already deduced the identities of the other four, she almost certainly could, now.
“All of them, actually.” Wait, Cinch might take it as an insult that Sunny came last. “–Going in order of travel time, of course. Everypony else was within the city walls.”
“Even Miss Zap? I had believed she was currently employed in Cloudsdale.”
“You and I both. Turns out, she just happened to be at Lemon Zest’s place when I stopped by. Good thing, too, because I would’ve needed a refresher on my cloudwalking spell if she wasn’t.”
“There’s a spell for that?”, blurted Sunny Flare, startling both Sunset and Abacus. Her eyes were wide with… curiosity?
Abacus’s were narrowed with disappointed impatience.
“There’s a spell for pretty much anything,” Sunset answered, which there was. Sunset knew it was rude to say it out loud, but unicorns could do pretty much anything sinecorns could if they put their minds and talents to it. It wasn’t tribalist if it was true. Still, Sunset chose to keep that truth implicit: “Growing plants, bonding with animals, moving clouds around–”
And just like that, Sunny Flare was a statue again. The moment Sunset mentioned weatherwrightery, she picked a patch of carpet to be interested in and locked her jaw tightly shut.
“Right, well,” Cinch began, “that’s all very interesting, but back to the point: how did your other meetings go?”
“They’re all onboard. Some of them needed some nudging, but an opportunity to work for the Crown isn’t really something you just pass up.”
“Indeed not.” A subtle smile crept onto Cinch’s lips. “I am quite pleased to hear that, and thoroughly satisfied with what you have achieved in such a short time. You are an exceedingly efficient mare. If Princess Celestia did not play favorites with the school her magically-gifted students must attend for their regular coursework, I would have been delighted to have you as a student of the Princess Amore Memorial Preparatory Academy, Ms. Shimmer.”
All Sunset could think was how grateful she hadn’t been. “Thank you, Mrs. Cinch,” she still said, through a smile on the verge of a cringe. “But I’m done with what I came here to do, so if that’s all, I should probably be getting out of your mane.”
“Understandable. I have no further questions for you.”
Sunset made a show of rubbing the back of her head with a hoof as she got up from the couch. “But, real quick, is there a coach stop around here that’ll take me back to the palace? We’ve been walking all day.”
Abacus nodded. “The coach service should still be running, this late.”
“Great! And do you mind if I borrow Sunny so she can show me where it is?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, but ultimately, Cinch nodded again. “Very well, if you must. Sunny, do be a dear and come right back home once you’ve shown Ms. Shimmer the way.”
“Yes, Mother.” With that, rigidly as an automaton, Sunny moved towards the door and held it open. “After you, Ms. Shimmer.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Smolder, thankfully, hadn’t run off. Sunset updated her on their plan for the trip back to the palace as they cleared the front lawn.
They then walked in silence until, the moment they were out of Cinch’s earshot, Sunny hissed to Sunset, slipping back into her normal accent, “You couldn’t just take no for an answer, could you?”
“Yeah, about that, look–”
“No, you look!” Her voice had raised to a speaking volume. “When this coronation turns into a catastrophe, you’ll be the one who’s really to blame, but it shall be my name credited on all the little brochures. I’m the one whose reputation is actually at stake.”
Sunset felt her blood temperature rising. “What makes you so sure it’s going to go that badly? And why are you blaming me?”
“Because you signed off on this! Duh! You dealt with Sugarcoat and figured she’d treat this momentous occasion with the respect it deserves, but she didn’t even blink when you told her who you were, did she? You spoke with Lemon Zest – and probably lost some of your hearing range in the process! You looked at Sour Sweet for more than five seconds and decided she was fit for anything more civilized than bog-wallowing in Bumrutt Nowhere, Maresachusetts!” Sunny was just shy of shrieking now.
A terrible, indignant heat burned in Sunset’s brow, and the only reason it didn’t spill out of her mouth or her horn to shut Sunny up was because the drama-hound in her desperately wanted to hear what Sunny had to say about her one omission. “What about Indigo?”
Sunny exhaled, dropping to a low grumble. “She’s fine. She didn’t stop talking to me the moment we all graduated–” She flinched. She did not mean to say that much. “I mean– Understand, dearie, that a single halfway-competent pony like Indigo does not, a successful celebration, make. And that’s including you in that count.”
A perfect opportunity to trip Miss Flare up again presented itself to Sunset. “And yourself, too, huh?”
But Sunny didn’t miss a beat. She just smiled real wide and hissed, “Yes! Like I’ve been trying to hint at for the past hour! Looks like it finally got through your thick skull, well beyond the point when it would have done either of us any good!”
“Wait, what?” Sunset’s anger was overridden with confusion.
“I don’t know how my mother chose to embellish my resumé to you, but it was all complete hogwash, I assure you. I do not remotely have the skills to do justice to the coronation of a rutting Princess, but what I do have – or, now, did have – is the good sense to know my inadequacies, mind my own business, and stay in my lane!
“But now,” she growled, “you’ve doomed me. From this day forward, I march into the open grave of what little potential I had left. If I could barely show my face in public before, I certainly won’t be able to after embarrassing myself on the national stage.”
Sunset rubbed her hoof on her temple. These histrionics were giving her a headache, and if this pity-party came with waterworks, Sunset was prepared to cut her losses and teleport back to the palace. It would be up to Smolder (who had been watching Sunny’s meltdown with some kind of amusement) to console her, if she wanted.
When it sounded like Sunny was catching her breath, Sunset just tiredly declared, “Look, if you really don’t want the job that bad, it’s not like you actually have to take it. We’ll find somepony else.” Somepony who doesn’t apparently loathe most of the ponies she’s supposed to be friends with.
“No, dearie! I do have to take this job now. I very much do. I do not have a choice in the matter.”
“Really? You’re a grown mare. Don’t you have a spine? Just tell your mom ‘no’.”
The look Sunny gave Sunset was… well, it was smug, but it was smug because it was pitying. It made Sunset’s pelt crawl. “I bet lashing out like that gets you everything you’d ever want, Little Miss Student-of-Celestia. It’s not like the Princess of Patience would ever disown you.”
Sunset… didn’t have a retort for that. Of course she didn’t. What, was she gonna tell Sunny Flare, ‘Actually, you’re wrong: I managed to peeve Celestia off so badly that even she, in all her patience, finally gave me the boot, and the only reason I’m not banned from the palace is that Celestia suspiciously disappeared before she could make it official’?
Rage boiled up. It was the only answer left to her. So did… something else. Something like sandpaper to her eyes, beading hot tears precariously onto the precipices of her lower eyelids.
But before Sunset could decide whether to ram her horn through Sunny’s throat or burn her to ashes or stomp her to pulp or drown her in a torrent of tears, the other unicorn announced, “Here’s the coach stop. Have a good night,” and she turned around and walked back home.
Sunset knew she needed to have the last word. Otherwise, this verbal joust would be a total, crushing defeat. Except that last word hitched in her throat with a sickening crack, and she didn’t know what it was, anyways.
In a flash of cyan, Sunset was back at her quarters in the palace, her face speared into a pillow, screaming in fury, anguish, despair, and all the other tenderest emotions which her recent employment had done a marvelous job of distracting her from.
She didn’t cry.
She definitely didn’t cry.
That’s not at all what she did.