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// III. The Truth 
// Story: Untitled Journal in Blueblood's Study 
// by Crowne Prince 
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The evening after Princess Celestia visited my family, I had my first encounter with an entirely different class of remarkable pony. I received a letter written in old fashioned black ink instructing me to go to classroom 2M at Celestia’s School after dinner that night.

This was years before Princess Luna’s return. The school then was different than it is today, and I cannot fathom what it might be like for you now. Back then, some classes were taught in Canterlot Castle, but the majority of everyday study happened in a grand fortress near the mountainside. Special fencing surrounded the academy. It was as much to keep wayward experiments in as it was to keep unsuspecting ponies out. Because newer parts of the school blended in with the swirling and pointy spires of Canterlot, the distinctive fence was a lifesaver.

The rest of the fortress was very old and built brick by brick out of a sort of gray stone. It had obviously existed before Canterlot Castle and could’ve been many things in a past life. Large double doors were crafted from wood with ornate black hinges. Hallways tall enough to make pegasi happy went in all directions, supported by smooth pillars topped with scooped arches. The inside was decorated to feel modern and comfortable regardless of what the fortress’ past might have been.

This was during the day of course.

After dark the part of the school containing room 2M was dimly lit and quiet. I was surprised I’d been able to get in this section of the building because nopony was here, not a single straggling faculty member, not even a janitor. A strip of deep purple carpeting muted my solitary hoofsteps.

It was dark when I came to the end of the hallway and saw the placard for 2M. The door was ajar and the lights were off.

I poked my head inside the classroom and found it empty. Rows of ghostly desks faced a large blackboard. Unlike the rest of the school and much of Canterlot’s architecture, the long room lacked windows. It only had one door in the front and there was no back exit for students in the last rows of desks. 2M was a clear violation of fire safety standards and one of the many secretive places in Canterlot I studied from. 

I decided to wait out my fate in a desk in the front row. Have you ever sat in an empty classroom, alone, at night? It is an odd experience.

I listened for hoofbeats. None came.

The door closed on its own. Before I could investigate, a flash of silver teleportation light burst at the head of the room. The alcove lighting along the ceiling came on.

There are some ponies you meet and never forget. Headmistress Magick is one of them. Her strict appearance alone was enough to frighten classroom delinquents into submission. She wore her gray mane in a bun stuck with two black hairsticks in an X. The once youthful gray in her hair was giving way to silver, one strand for every book of wisdom her mind’s library possessed. At that time her mane hadn’t gone completely silver, not yet.

“Good evening Prince Blueblood,” she said. “I am Headmistress Magick, principal of Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. I shall be your private instructor in the years to come.”

I was shocked. The leader of the whole school was my mentor. I remembered my good manners and said, “Pleased to meet you Headmistress. You can just call me Blue.”

Magick’s rigid posture did not loosen. “Dear Prince, you have a lot to learn. Your title is an honorific not to be taken lightly. When Canterlot is in trouble, does the Royal Guard bandy about tittering ‘Celestia, Celestia!’ Of course not. They yell ‘Princess Celestia.’ Only close family and friends may call you by your name without respecting your station. Consider this your first lesson, Prince Blueblood.”

My heart sank. This was the first taste of the harsh reality I chose when I took Princess Celestia’s path. I cannot say I inherited this reality, because, remember, I am not a Prince. You’ve only been made to believe that.

I differed to my manners again. “If I may, Headmistress, is there a connection between my name and learning magic?”

“I am here to teach you how to be a Prince.” Various items were populating the room even though Magick hadn’t so much as shifted a hoof. Maps and scientific instruments, gadgets and diagrams, and books. Lots of books. Entire shelves full of them. “Everything from your poise and manner of speech to knowledge of the arcane arts will be rewritten. Now, I am not expert enough in all of these areas nor do I possess an unlimited quantity of time, so my most trusted allies will help you in some of your studies.”

The mare’s nose twitched. Her eyes slid to a section of the blackboard with a chalk smudge on it. A silver magical aura picked up a cloth from the edge of the board, dampened it, and eliminated the imperfection. “I see no reason to dawdle any further, so let’s begin with the basics, shall we? We may have years, but the thing we’re lacking in is time.”

Magick didn’t bother to write anything on the blackboard. She launched into the lesson.

“There are three well-understood classes of pony magic, which, as you might guess, correspond with each race: earth, pegasus, and unicorn. Of these magics, most scholars agree that unicorn magic is the most versatile and earth pony magic is the most complicated. Despite the great differences, in many cases all three races are capable of achieving some degree of the same task with magic.

For instance, say you were to explore a cave so dark you cannot see. What would you do?"

"Cast a light spell, of course."

"Now imagine you're an earth pony. What will you do?"

I tried to picture myself standing before a gaping hole of complete darkness with no horn to rely on. There were no options for any pony other than a unicorn. There was no way to create light. "I, uh... would go find a unicorn?"

The Headmistress didn’t appreciate my weak humor. "Incorrect." 

"But earth ponies don't have magic!"

Barely had the words left my mouth than one of Magick's black hairsticks shot from her mane and lashed me over the nose. I held a hoof over the smarting blow. "Ow! What was that for?" I snapped.

The stick slotted itself back into Magick's mane. "In this world, for every wrong move you make, for every social faux pas, for every bit of ignorance, there will be a punishment far more severe than a strike to your snout. That is the nature of royal politics."

Magick conjured a green notebook out of thin air and levitated it onto my desk. Pressed leaves wrapped around the book's binding. "It will serve you well to understand earth magic. Inside this text is a summary of all the essentials; read it and return it to me by the end of the week. This is little known knowledge, so I request you keep it to yourself. Everything you know that an opponent does not gives you an advantage."

I leafed through the book’s loosely bound pages while I mulled over the idea that earth ponies had magic. “What would an earth pony do in a dark cave?”

“It depends. Many these days could grow woody plants on the spot to start a fire. Others have the ability to engineer a machine to help them explore. Only the truly talented can light a path with bioluminescent mushrooms, though you would be hard pressed to find a pony of that caliber in Equestria today. Should you ever encounter these mushrooms, do not eat them; they can be deadly.”

Magick turned to the blackboard and began to orchestrate a drawing with several sticks of chalk at once. “We will study poisons in detail at a later time.”

My question sounded more a statement of fact. “This isn’t something you teach at the School for Gifted Unicorns, is it.”

“No.”





You may be wondering at this point how I can recall events of my life with such clarity. There’s something called a memory spell. If you are familiar with how the Elements of Harmony defeated Discord, you’ll remember Twilight Sparkle used it to overcome the false memories in her friends’ hearts.

I do not need a memory spell to recall what happened after that first lesson with Headmistress Magick. I tried to go home and she stopped me.

“You will not return to your foster parents’ home this night, nor any other. Such a common dwelling does not befit a Prince.”

Foreboding wrenched my naïve heart. “I think you mean my mom and dad. I’m not a foster pony.” 

Magick paused and made a concerned hum while she assessed the situation. “I fear the Princess left me with some explaining to do. If I had known I might not have said anything yet. But perhaps it is for the best you know now. Think. The ponies who raised you do not have the status for you to be born a Prince.”

It was true.

I knew it was true.

I didn’t want to believe it.

My parents died defending Equestria. Orphans are exceedingly rare in our society, but I became one when I was only a foal and too young to comprehend I’d lost the two most important ponies in my life. My adoptive parents agreed to raise me until it was time for me to take my place as Prince. They’d already known what would happen the day I came home with my cutie mark.

One of the things I sacrificed when I chose this role was time with my family. For as much as my living parents did love me, my studies with Magick kept us apart and my duty to the kingdom even more so. I wish I’d done something to show I loved them when I still had time. All I’m left with now is a wish that will never come true.

…

I was too stunned then to take in the fact I had parents I never knew and to believe I couldn’t go home. Headmistress Magick guided me out of 2M and onto the lawns of the school where a uniquely colored pony was waiting for us. His tailored gray fur was so dark it was almost black, except the flash of white on his chest and equally light colored hooves.

Magick said, “Your chief of staff will show you to your manor and teach you etiquette beginning tomorrow.”

The stallion bowed. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”