//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Help Me From My Brain // Story: Pandelirium // by Kwakerjak //------------------------------// Though they initially considered leaving Equestrian territory altogether for their voluntary exile, Celestia and Luna still held out hope that this vexing conundrum would turn out to be a huge misunderstanding, and that their subjects would ask for their return. Thus, they resolved to stay within the borders of their homeland, and soon found shelter in a cave which they discovered amongst the crags and canyons of the Badlands. The two of them were silent as they prepared for their first night in exile, and this would likely have remained the state of things had they not received a visitor. “Well, now that that unpleasantness is taken care of, we can finally get back to business.” Celestia immediately recognized the broad, flat voice of her erstwhile friend. “Discord! Thou wouldst show thy face to us even now?!” The draconequus sighed as he floated to the ground. “Please, Celestia, there’s no need for such ceremony. You can still call me Quigley.” Luna was still choked up, but somehow she managed to force a response from her mouth: “How couldst thou do this to us, Quigley?” “Oh, it was really easy. A whisper here, a rumor there, and pretty soon it all adds up to revolution.” “Luna speaks figuratively,” Celestia said, her icy glare unchanging. “She wishes to know the reason for thy actions, assuming its very existence.” Quigley appeared stunned, as if he had honestly not anticipated this query. “Is it not obvious? I did it to help you.” “Help us?” the white alicorn said in clear disbelief. “How are we assisted in any way by thine usurpation of our throne?” Quigley’s continued bewilderment at his friends’ hostility was equally evident. “If I am King of Equestria, that means that you no longer have to deal with any of those pesky responsibilities that have been getting in the way of having fun, of course.” “That’s it?! Thou hast upturned centuries of tradition because thou art bored?!” The dragonequus smiled broadly. “Oh, good, you’re finally agreeing with me. Now, then, what shall the three of us do first?” Celestia, however, would have none of this. “Did it not occur to thee that the responsibilities of monarchy are now upon thy shoulders?” Quigley sighed and waved his lion’s paw dismissively. “Yes, but I’ve devised a more efficient system for taking care of that sort of thing.” “And that is?” Quigley grinned. “You’re going to love this: I just agree to every single proposal brought before me! No advisors, no meetings, and no drawn-out court sessions! I have hours of free time, and all I had to do was ignore all the boring parts. All I have to do is pop in for an hour or two so they know I’m still on the throne, and the rest takes care of itself.” “And if two ponies’ desires conflict?” “That’s their problem for not being considerate of others. Something which you could use a lesson in, I might add.” “What?” Celestia asked, her glare becoming even colder. “Well, after all, I am a guest in your... er... home, and what is more, I’m the King of Equestria, and so far you’ve done nothing but give me dirty looks since I got here. The time for whining is over. The time for fun is now!” “No,” Celestia replied, pulling her now-sobbing sister into a tighter hug. “Thou hast caused us more pain and distress than thou can possibly imagine. I think I speak for both my sister and myself when I say that we no longer wish to partake in ‘fun’ with thee.” The alicorn held out the faintest of hopes that the confused draconequus would request a further explanation, so that she could explain that amusements and diversions were not the only things in life which could bring about a sense of fulfillment. Instead, Quigley’s genial mood dissipated as his face twisted into a snarl of rage and frustration and his normally genteel voice transformed into a husky roar. “You would refuse me my desire to spend time with you? To do the very thing you created me to do?!” “Quigley, thou wert created to divert us from the drudgeries of life,” Celestia answered, her voice softening for the first time since her friend’s arrival, “but we never intended for thee to replace them.” The draconequus’ nostrils flared as his lips snarled around his snaggletooth and his eyes became a solid, angry red. He flew towards Celestia, coming within inches as he stared directly into her eyes. “My name,” he said, “is Discord.” —————————— As a knowledgeable pony, Trixie had of course heard the many rumors of a race of sentient canines who tunneled beneath Equestria, searching far and wide for gemstones, and like most knowledgeable ponies, she had dismissed this hearsay as utter nonsense. Now, however, surrounded by nearly a dozen Diamond Dogs of various sizes, each of whom looked irritated at best by her presence, she found herself seriously considering a revision of her previous position on the matter. A mid-sized canine wearing a red vest and a spiked collar stepped forward from the others. “You are a pony,” he said in a high-pitched, raspy voice. In any other context, Trixie might have had the luxury of being surprised that the dog could speak grammatically correct sentences in Equestrian. Right now, however, she was more concerned with extracting herself from her rather sticky situation, so she simply gave her interrogator a straightforward response: “Yes, I am.” “We have no need for ponies. You will leave now.” “Ah, yes. Of course. Sorry to trouble you. Trixie will just head back to the cave’s upper chambers—” “Ponies belong above ground. Ponies will stay above ground. You will leave. Now!” The other Diamond Dogs barked and howled with approval at their leader’s intransigence—and the dog with the red vest did seem to be the leader. Not surprisingly, Trixie’s first instinct was to comply with this demand and thank her lucky stars that they hadn’t demanded anything more from her. But before she raised a single hoof from the cave’s floor, she had begun to reconsider. Finding this cave, and the wondrous sights inside, had unquestionably been the best thing that had happened to her since her duel with Twilight Sparkle. Was she truly to turn her back on Providence just to satiate the desires of some mangy curs? “Now, now, there’s no need to be unreasonable....” “Ponies will not dig for gems. Ponies will not pull carts. We have no need for ponies! You will leave now!” The Diamond Dog had raised himself up to his full height and was now baring his fangs in an effort to look as intimidating as possible, and indeed, somewhere in the back of Trixie’s mind, the “fight or flight” response had been triggered, but for some odd reason, she continued to stand her ground. The cave had sheltered her from the heat of the day, the cold of the night, and the damp of the rain. It had given her a stock of provisions, and it was imbued with a warm, intangible magic that had given her the first feelings of unequivocal happiness she’d felt in a long time. She’d made up her mind; “flight” was not an option. Of course, given that she was outnumbered nearly twelve to one, “fighting” wasn’t very appealing either. “Well,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “even if I can’t be useful as manual labor, that doesn’t mean you can’t benefit from my services.” “Services?” the Diamond Dog repeated skeptically. “What other services would be useful to us?” “Why, I am only the greatest, most astounding entertainer in all of Equestria!” Trixie said proudly, even though she knew full well that several members of the Wonderbolts might be willing to argue that statement. “Surely my ability to provide you with amusement will be enough to convince you to let me stay in an out-of-the-way chamber of this cave while you continue with your... er... business.” Of course, Trixie had no idea what business the Diamond Dogs had in this cave, but this was hardly the time to probe. Several of the canines huddled together to discuss her offer, leaving her under the watchful eyes of two massive, armored guards. After a few minutes that felt like hours, the huddle broke up and the red-vested leader approached her. “If you entertain us, you may stay,” he said with a mirthless grin. “You will start now.” As a professional entertainer, Trixie had performed in front of hostile audiences on numerous occasions in the past, but none of that hostility had ever seemed likely to threaten her personal safety. She swallowed hard and restarted her routine. “Now then, as I was saying, I am the Great and Powerful Trixie! The most talented, most magical, most awesome unicorn in... er... where exactly are we, again?” “The cave?” one of the larger Diamond Dogs offered. “Well, er, yes, in the cave!” Trixie finished, though given that she was the only unicorn in the cave at the moment, it didn’t sound as impressive as she might have liked. “In fact, I’d say that I’m better than any pony you’ve ever met before.” “Really?” asked a small brown canine with droopy jowls. “Really,” confirmed the Great and Powerful Trixie. “I’m confident that anything they can do, I could do better.” Usually, this was the part where at least one member of the audience would step up and challenge, her, but the pack seemed rather uncomfortable, as if remembering their past experience was painful at best. “The white pony could find gems,” a large grey Diamond Dog with floppy ears and a pronounced underbite finally said. The leader looked uneasy at the suggestion, but eventually he agreed with a silent nod. “So, you wish for Trixie to locate a gemstone?” Trixie said. She usually repeated any challenge she received aloud, partly to make sure she’d understood it correctly, but mostly to give her a few additional seconds to formulate a solution. “Not one gem,” the leader said. “The white pony found many gems. More gems in one hour than we could hope to find in a week.” “I see,” Trixie said. “Well, Trixie shall do better than simply finding gems. The Great and Powerful Trixie shall make one for you!” Even as the Diamond Dogs suddenly burst into excited applause, the showmare was regretting her snap decision. Make a gemstone? Have you gone mad, filly? Even earth ponies do not pretend that they can do that!  Still, there was a way out of every problem, and Trixie found hers while staring at the cave floor. Remembering an instance when she’d bested a glass-blower at his trade, she lifted some sediment from the ground and used a particularly intense fire spell to heat it until it was white-hot. After several minutes of manipulation and cooling, she presented the finished orthohedron to the red-vested Diamond Dog for inspection. The leader looked at the clear solid in his paws for a few seconds before hurling it to the ground, causing it to shatter. “Glass,” he said with an angry sneer. “Ah, yes, of course,” Trixie said as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. “Naturally, the true method of producing gemstones is quite difficult, or else Trixie would have long since retired from her current vocation. She had to be certain that you were true gemstone connoisseurs, so that her talents would not be wasted on ingrates.” The leader growled skeptically, but nonetheless waved his paw, bidding her to continue. Trixie paused to wipe the sweat off of her forehead and picked up a rock the size of her hoof with her magic. Common sense would have said that her next move should have been to hurl the rock at the leader’s skull and make a break for the cave entrance, but there was something else getting in the way: pride. The rock began to glow a bright white as Trixie continued to think about her situation. Her professional reputation had suffered enough without being bested by an anonymous white pony. It didn’t matter that she had no idea how she would turn this rock into a gem; she was going to do it, because she was The Great and Powerful Trixie, damn it, and anything they could do, she could do better!  Trixie wasn’t certain what happened next, but it felt as though a dam somewhere inside of her had abruptly burst, sending a torrent of magic flowing through her. Off in the distance, she could hear the excited scuffling of her audience, but she paid this no mind; she had more important matters to attend to at the moment. The rock. It continued to float in front of her, awaiting her ministrations. Instinctually, she began to siphon her magic into the stone, surrounding it, infusing it, and rearranging the haphazardly jumbled atoms and molecules into a precise, orderly structure and transforming the whole into a thing of beauteous perfection. The stone’s glow was now almost blinding, and the air around it began crackling in reaction to the magic. The noise grew steadily louder until it was almost deafening, causing more than a few of the Diamond Dogs to hide behind what meager cover the cave could provide. The thought that she might be needlessly putting herself in danger had only just occurred to Trixie when the crackling and buzzing suddenly dropped away, replaced with a noise that sounded like shattering glass as the unicorn slumped to the ground. When Trixie opened her eyes again, the lead Diamond Dog was standing in front of her, holding a large, green crystal in his paws, scrutinizing it intently. Finally, he stopped and looked her in the eye, but saying nothing, as if he was trying to work out whether she had used some sort of stage trickery. “If I had it with me the whole time,” she said breathlessly, “I would have tried to buy your acceptance instead.” The canine flashed a toothy grin at her, but it no longer contained even a hint of malice. He turned to his pack and announced: “It is an emerald... and it is flawless. Trixie is truly Great and Powerful!” —————————— Amazingly, Discord seemed to take Pinkie Pie’s advice on comedy seriously—a turn of events which shocked Pinkie Pie more than anypony else, in fact. The would-be comedian spent most of his second night at Sweet Apple Acres pacing around his barn, muttering indistinctly as he tried to work out how best to conjure up some laughs from Penumbra. Of course, the fact that Applejack had once again decided to spend the night monitoring him instead of sleeping might have encouraged him to be a notably conspicuous about this; after all, it was the earth pony’s fault that he was being forced to resort to complicated metaphorical conjuring instead of the relatively straightforward literal variety. Indeed, Discord said as much in his non-apology to Applejack the following morning as he breakfasted on toast and several jars of Zap Apple Jam (though to be fair, he did place the jam in a new container before eating the jars). “In any case,” he continued as he shoved a fifth slice of pumpernickel into his gaping maw, “Pinkie Pie does have a point. Much as it pains me, it appears that in order to win this contest, I’ll have to be... ugh... sensible and cater my efforts to Penny’s tastes. Luckily for me, that won’t be difficult.” “You sure about that?” Applejack asked him through bleary eyes. She was the only pony left at the table, as the other Apples had conveniently remembered extremely important chores that needed to be finished the moment he’d appeared in the doorway. “Of course. After all, Penumbra is basically what Luna thought an evil Celestia would be like, so all I need to do is figure out the ratio of Night to Day in her personality and work from there.” Discord paused and noted the skeptical look on Applejack’s face, though her blatant exhaustion made that expression look significantly more weary than usual. “I see you’re having difficulty following my logic. That’s perfectly understandable; I don’t like following logic either. Why don’t I explain my plans for the day, then? That way, I’ll know if any of them will run afoul of that blasted morality of yours.” Applejack considered this for a moment, and she decided that at the very least, this might give her grounds to send Discord back to the sculpture garden if he lied to her. “Alright, shoot.” ——————————   “Now, you might think that, as a pony based on Celestia, Penumbra would be receptive to practical jokes. However, as my less-than-successful experience yesterday has demonstrated, this is not the case. I assume that this is because around the time of her creation, I had largely exhausted Celestia’s tolerance for pranks. And yet, I also noted that she did indulge in the occasional smirk as she mocked my failures. That’s when it occurred to me that, much like Celestia, Penumbra is an extremely self-centered pony who cares nothing for the misery of innocent draconequi. Therefore, I shall use the age-old technique of slapstick to repeatedly injure myself in a comical fashion, and her cruel laughter is sure to follow.” Applejack smiled to herself as she recalled Discord’s stated plan for that morning; it was quite possibly the only thing that was going to make today’s shift on the Penny Watch bearable. A small part of her felt guilty at her eagerness to watch Discord make a complete fool out of himself, but that was more than drowned out by the very large part that was convinced that a heapin’ helping of humble pie was exactly what the “innocent” draconequus deserved after all he’d put the citizens of Ponyville through the last time he’d been set loose. This pleasant situation was made even better by Discord’s decision to make sure she was awake whenever he attempted to get Penumbra to laugh up so she could witness her friend’s chuckles firsthoof, which had the much more desirable effect of both ensuring that she wouldn’t miss any of his antics and giving her a chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Thus, Applejack’s normally unimpeachable work ethic took the day off as she spent much the morning snoozing in the shade of Cloud Nineteen’s ground-level showroom pavilion, with the occasional interruption so she could view the highlights of Discord’s attempts at slapstick. Things didn’t start out too well. Discord started the morning by “forgetting” to duck as he entered the pavilion at Cloud Nineteen, banging his forehead on the rafters and leaving a visible bruise. Not only did Penumbra not laugh at this, but she hadn’t even recognized it as a failed attempt to do so. Instead, she asked Discord if he was alright, and upon being informed that this was the case, she dropped the matter completely and returned to her work, leaving the draconequus to reflect on his lack of success. “I don’t understand! She didn’t even notice it.” “Sure she did,” Applejack said. “She asked if ya were doin’ okay, didn’t she?” “That’s precisely what I mean! Where was the snarky insult? That gloating, pompous expression on her face? Why did she not take any delight in my misfortune?” “I dunno,” Applejack answered. “Guess it just looked like an honest mistake. No big deal.” If Discord had heard this, he made no indication, as he’d already left to sit in a corner of the pavilion and ponder his next move, giving Applejack the opportunity for her first catnap of the day. Discord’s second attempt didn’t fare much better. As the trio strolled through Ponyville’s central market to get ingredients so Applejack could prepare lunch for them, Discord paused to purchase a banana from a rather nervous-looking fruit merchant (using Applejack’s money, of course). “Ah, the noble banana,” he declared aloud in a scenery-chewing tone of voice as he brandished his solid yellow cavendish for all to see. “Truly a most wondrous foodstuff, don’t you think, Penumbra? It’s at its sweetest and most delicious when it’s covered in disgusting brown splotches, yet when it is in pristine condition, bearing its iconic shade of unblemished canary like this particular specimen,”—Discord paused briefly here to peel the fruit and stuff it into his mouth, slowly moving it around in order to fully appreciate its flavor before swallowing—“it is one of the most gut-churningly awful experiences to which the tastebuds can be subjected. Very metaphorical, when you think about it.” “Is that so?” Penumbra asked, clearly uncertain where this line of reasoning was going (especially since she didn’t really mind the taste of yellow bananas all that much). “And what exactly is it a metaphor for?” “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. But it sure sounds like it would make a good metaphor, doesn’t it?” Having thus finished, Discord disposed of the remaining peel by casually tossing it over his shoulder. Seconds later, Discord had slid at least two full trots across the ground before tripping over a small rock jutting out of the grassy roadway, causing him to tumble head-over-tail into a cart of full of a brownish-black substance its seller had rather euphemistically labelled as “all-natural organic sludge.” Applejack did her best to hold in her sniggering so that Penumbra’s self-control wouldn’t be compromised, but as she glanced over at the pegasus’ face, she only saw her usual dispassionate stonefaced stare. “A banana peel,” Penumbra said in a flat monotone. “How original.” “It doesn’t need to be original as long as it’s funny,” Discord pointed out as he spat some of the tar-like substance from his mouth. “That’s true,” Penumbra said, “but I didn’t think it was particularly humorous, either.” “Oh, come on! I was making snooty, pretentious comments about a fruit, and then I slipped, fell, and now I’m covered in gunk. How is that not funny?” Penumbra simply rolled her eyes. “Well, it might have worked out a little better if you’d remembered to step on the banana peel before slipping. Then I’d have been focused on your mishap instead of your hammy overacting.” “Drat! I knew I was forgetting something!” “Hey! What are you gonna do about my contaminated sludge?” the sludge vendor asked angrily. Applejack had a strong suspicion that it was only her presence as a witness that prevented the salespony from joining Discord in his no-longer-fully-organic product. However, it was Discord’s third attempt of the morning that had been Applejack’s favorite. When he first woke her up again, just before noon, she’d initially thought that he was getting impatient for lunch. “Don’t be ridiculous!” he’d said. “I can make whatever food I want appear whenever I want.” “But doesn’t that stuff usually end up explodin’?” “So I like my food with a little kick to it—big deal. Now go get Penumbra so I can display my comic genius.” When Applejack returned with Penumbra, the cloudsmith looked rather annoyed; it appeared that she’d been hard at work at the time, as evidenced by the fact that her mane was still in the tight ponytail she wore to keep her hair from blocking her vision. “Okay, I’m here,” she said in voice dripping with exasperation. “I assume you’re going to try to be funny again?” Discord smiled and nodded silently. He then lazily extended a finger and sent a jolt of magic flying towards Penumbra’s haunches, causing her to jump off the ground. “Ouch! What was that for?” “Just a little experiment to see if I can force this Pinkie Sense thing to do what I want it to. So, is your tail twitching yet?” “First of all, Pinkie’s preferred term is ‘a-twitch-a-twitching;’ second, no, my tail is not doing such; and third, as I’ve already told you, Pinkie Pie can’t simply give her Pinkie Sense to other ponies!” At that moment, there was a loud clang as a massive iron anvil fell on Discord’s head. “Apparently she can’t,” he said dryly from beneath his impromptu metal hat. “Um, excuse me, Mr. Disco?” asked a somewhat-confused sounding voice from overhead. Applejack and Penumbra looked up to see a cross-eyed pegasus mare peeking out from behind a puffy blob of cumulus. “I delivered the anvil to this cloud, just like you asked. Um, it looks like it hadn’t been enchanted to stay there.” “No harm done,” Discord replied as he pushed the anvil from his cranium and allowed it to hit the ground with a thud. “Oh. Um, does that mean you’ll still be giving me those muffins?” Discord wordlessly snapped his talons, causing a tray of oatmeal raisin muffins to pop into existence in front of the delivery pony, who accepted the payment gladly. “Thanks!” she said as she flew back towards Ponyville. “Not even a chuckle?” he asked Penumbra, whose face was as neutral as ever. “Of course not,” Penumbra replied. “Derpy is quite sensitive about other ponies laughing at her, and I’ve already learned the hard way that it’s best to avoid hurting her feelings.” “But you would have been laughing at me!” “Actually, Discord, I reckon Derpy was probably the funnier one that time,” Applejack said. “Besides, your reaction to gettin’ clonked on your noodle wasn’t anywhere near as good as Twilight’s.” Discord looked like he had begun to choke on his complaints. “What did you just say?” he said in an uncharacteristically frail voice. “Uh, that it was funnier when it happened to Twi, I guess.” Applejack replied in a somewhat confused tone. Discord froze in place with his mouth agape as the full implications of Applejack’s statement settled in. He abruptly rushed over to the earth pony and stared her in the face. “Do you mean to tell me that Twilight Sparkle’s already done this, too?!” “Indeed she has,” Penumbra said. “It happened shortly after I moved into her mind, in fact, but well before I made my presence known to her. Not a very pleasant experience, even secondhoof.” “ARRGH!!” —————————— “Now, in the unlikely event that Penumbra remains utterly unmoved by slapstick, I have an equally inspired backup plan. You see, Luna has always been the more intelligent of the two royal sisters, and as such has a tendency to prefer more cerebral forms of humor—jokes, in other words. Therefore, if it seems likely that Penumbra’s sense of humor is more in line with Luna’s than Celestia’s, I intend to hit her with a barrage of wittiness that will surely elicit at least one titter. And let’s face it, one titter is all I need.” “Yo, Penny!” Penumbra sighed as she landed on the ground. “Applejack, how many times must I tell you not to call me that?” “Sorry, Penumbra, but it’s the fastest way to get your attention,” Applejack said apologetically. “Anyhoo, Discord wants another go.” “Superb. I suppose this time he’s going to hang from Ponyville’s clock tower?” Applejack looked over at the clearing where the anvil incident had occurred a few hours earlier; Discord could easily be seen twiddling his thumbs and rocking back and forth on a nonexistent chair as he awaited his audience. “Nah, I think he’s got somethin’ different in mind.” The two ponies barely had time to walk over to Discord before he launched into his next attempt at comedy: “Hey, Penumbra, what do you call a boomerang that doesn’t work?” Penumbra looked askance at Discord when he asked this question. “Why do you want to know?” “Look, just answer me, okay?” “Well, I suppose I don’t know.” “A stick!” Discord said excitedly as he paused in anticipation, waiting for the inevitable burst of laughter. However, the only audible laughter in the moments that immediately followed came from distant playground of Ponyville’s schoolhouse, where Cheerilee’s students were enjoying their lunch break. “Oh, I see,” Penumbra said after a second or two. “You’ve decided to try telling jokes now. I thought that question seemed a bit out of the blue—even for you.” This did not seem an auspicious start to Discord’s efforts, but he continued on, undaunted. “Did you hear the one about the egg? Well, it cracked me up.” Penumbra groaned loudly, but Discord kept going. “How about the one about the ceiling? Er, never mind, it’ll probably just go over your head.” “Discord...” “Oh, I know! Have you heard the one about the jump rope? Oh, just skip it.” “Discord...” “Two drums and a cymbal fall off a cliff. Ba dum tssh!” “Discord!” Penumbra shouted. “Yes?” he asked his audience with a cloying tone in his voice. “Those jokes are awful. Don’t you know anything more... I don’t know... clever?” “Hmm... What’s a pirate’s favorite element on the periodic table?” Penumbra sighed and rolled her eyes. “Let me guess: Arr-gon?” “What? No! It’s gold, silly.” Penumbra apparently did not consider this to be clever, as instead of laughing, she pressed one of her forehooves against her face. “Uh, Discord?” Applejack said tentatively. “I don’t reckon these quick jokes and one-liners are workin’ too well. Maybe you’d have better luck with somethin’ else.” Ordinarily, she would have been averse to giving someone like Discord advice, but she didn’t particularly want to hear the rest of his repertoire, either. “Fine,” the draconequus said. “I’ll try this one. Three strings come across a bar, one of them goes inside and asks for a drink. The bartender scowls and says, ‘We don't serve your kind here.’ So the string goes back outside, looking really dejected, and the other two ask what's wrong. He tells them what happened, and the second string, who's really mad now, marches into the bar and demands a drink. The bartender glares at him and says, ‘I’ll tell you what I told your friend: we don’t serve your kind here,’ and tosses him out on the street. So the third string twists himself around in the middle and rubs his ends against the sidewalk until they start to come loose, then he walks into the bar and asks for a drink. The bartender looks at him with some confusion and asks, ‘You a string?’ And the string says, ‘I’m a frayed knot.’” Penumbra still wasn’t impressed; the only change to her stony demeanor was a sardonically raised eyebrow. “How about something that doesn’t involve puns?” Discord paused for a few seconds. “Give me a few minutes on that one,” he eventually said. “A few minutes” turned out to be nearly a half-hour, which was rather unfortunate, as it had taken Applejack twenty-five minutes to fall asleep again. “Okay, this is a fairly old one, but I really think you’re going to like it,” Discord said as Penumbra and Applejack said down in front of him. “So, after several weeks of near-constant persuasion, Dr. Trotson convinced Fetlock Hooves to take a break from solving mysteries, and the two of them went camping in the San Palomino desert. On the second night of their vacation, Hooves woke Trotson up in the middle of the night. “‘Trotson, look up,’ he said. ‘What do you see?’ “Trotson looked up and replied, ‘I see thousands of stars.’ “‘As do I,’ Hooves said. ‘Now, what do you deduce from this?’ “Knowing that his friend had probably already gleaned some fantastic insight because hey, he’s Fetlock Hooves, Dr. Trotson spent several minutes coming up with a response that would not disappoint him. Finally, once his pondering was completed, he said, “Well, my friend, astronomically, it tells me that there at least several thousand stars in existence, and quite possibly more. Furthermore, any of these stars might have planets capable of supporting life, so it it not out of the question to consider whether we are truly alone in the universe. Aesthetically, I deduce that Celestia is one of the greatest artists in history, having set the stars in patterns meant to bring ponies across the land joy and delight. Theologically, the fact that such a great mind cares for small and insignificant ponies such as us is ultimately quite humbling. And what say you, Hooves?’ “Hooves was silent for a few seconds. Then, after some consideration, he answered, ‘I deduce that somepony has stolen our tent.’” For a few moments, there was silence from Discord’s audience, but this was soon broken as Applejack’s efforts to hold back her snickering gave way to fifteen seconds of laughter. “Okay, I gotta admit, that’n was pretty good, even if it’s all wrong about Celestia bein’ a goddess.” “Oh, trust me; I already knew that,” Discord said. “But with all due respect, you aren’t the most important member of my audience.” He turned his attention over to Penumbra, who was nodding approvingly. “It’s a definite improvement. Very amusing.” “But... but you aren’t laughing.” “I said it was amusing. I didn’t say I thought it was funny.” “Oh come on!” Discord said with a frustrated stamp of his foot. “Luna surely would have been rolling on the ground.” “That’s quite possible,” Penumbra admitted. “However, she isn’t here.” “But she created you!” “True, but she isn’t me. Neither is Celestia, for that matter—and I had to go through an immense amount of trouble to learn that particular lesson, so be grateful you’re getting it for free. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” “Hang on,” Discord said as Penumbra flew back up to her cloud-forge. “If she doesn’t get her personality from Luna or Celestia, how am I supposed to make her laugh?” “I dunno,” Applejack said. “I s’pose you’re just gonna hafta get to know her yourself.” “ARRRGH!!!” —————————— Trixie could not recall the last time one of her performances had succeeded so spectacularly. Not only had she produced a gem for the Diamond Dogs without having to resort to her metaphorical bag of tricks, but once she’d recovered from the initial effort, she’d managed to repeat the feat several times, with each attempt requiring progressively less physical and mental strain as she instinctively increased the efficiency of her newly-developed spell. Just as importantly, the pack leader, who went by the name of Rover, turned out to be quite accurate in his assessment of the gemstones’ quality. It turned out that Diamond Dogs made their living by trading gems with dragons, who were willing to pay top bit in the form of gold and artifacts for food-quality jewels. The pack then used these windfalls to purchase supplies from Equestria’s black markets, as legitimate vendors tended to be distrustful of them. Apparently, one of their customers had been willing to part with some very choice pieces from her hoard in exchange for Trixie’s initial batch of emeralds. This was, without exaggeration, revolutionary, as it was supposed to be impossible to create gemstones with magic. Once word of this got out, ponies could neither doubt Trixie’s Greatness nor her Power. And yet the inarguable nature of this fact served only to raise an even more nagging question: How had Trixie managed to lose so badly to Twilight Sparkle? Even if her purple nemesis had been concealing the full extent of her power, Trixie had possessed the Alicorn Amulet, which should have been more than enough to keep her on an equal standing—yet at the most crucial moment, it had shattered under the strain of the magic Trixie had tried to channel through it. Trixie leaned against one of the armrests of the crystal throne, supporting her chin with her hoof as she tried to piece together a plausible explanation for Twilight Sparkle’s success. She had done extensive research on the Alicorn Amulet before acquiring it, and all of it suggested that she had been using it correctly. The fact that she hadn’t had any problems using it before that fateful duel further supported this conclusion. She simply couldn’t see what was different about the second duel, other than the fact that she channeled the amplified magical energy back into through the Amulet, but that shouldn’t have resulted in a catastrophic failure... unless.... Unless the additional magic came directly from my own reserves. Trixie sat bolt upright as the insight came to her. If that was indeed the case, the failure was not hers, but the Amulet’s. The more Trixie thought about it, the less far-fetched this idea seemed. It was not unheard of for a unicorn under stress to tap into previously unknown magical reserves. Indeed, this was precisely how Twilight Sparkle had originally come to the attention of Princess Celestia, and had thus been set on a path of privilege that would, if the stories were true, result in that spoiled twit being crowned as a Princess of Equestria! “Princess,” Trixie growled out loud as if it was the nastiest expletive she could think of. Magical ability or not, the very thought that that overglorified librarian could possibly take any part in ruling Equestria was laughable—when one considered that Trixie was a superior alternative, anyway. After all, had she not transformed Ponyville from a disorganized, undisciplined community into a perfect, orderly utopia? Surely she could be a better leader than Twilight Sparkle could ever hope to be. That’s when it hit her: surely, this was the perfect way to demonstrate her superiority to Twilight Sparkle. Not only could Trixie be a better ruler than her her, if she could somehow seize enough political power, she would be. Of course, Celestia and Luna would probably object, but who was to say they would pose a significant obstacle? Trixie now had access to enough magical power to completely overwhelm and destroy one of the most fabled magical artifacts in history. Why should she assume that the ruling Princesses could match her? Trixie began chuckling softly as she she leaned back into the throne as her fragmented, disjointed ideas assembled themselves into a coherent, logical whole within her mind, much like the organization of scattered molecules in her crystallization spell. It would take a lot of preparation and a little bit of luck, but she was now certain that her idea was hardly as ludicrous as an uninformed pony would likely believe. She could do it—she knew she could. After all, she was the Great and Powerful Trixie. Anything they could do, she could do better.