//------------------------------// // Chapter 9: Peer Review - Experiments in Relaxification // Story: The Education of Clover the Clever // by Daedalus Aegle //------------------------------// The Griffon Kingdom, the Aetite Duchy, shortly before Star Swirl and Clover's field trip. “You know, it was my grandfather who hosted the summit in his home,” said the Duchess Elizabeak. “At the height of the greatest period of growth the Griffon Empire had ever known. We were conquering the world, spreading our greatness far and wide, bringing the glories of Griffon culture and technology to all the other races. The time had finally come for King Blaze to seize the opportunity and add the states of the pony tribes to his domains. However, before the invasion began, in his honor, he sent an envoy to the rulers of the pony tribes, pointing to the might of the Griffon army, and our many conquests over the recent years, and asking for their bloodless submission. A kind gesture, to be sure, but pointless. Or rather, it should have been pointless.” “The other two tribes sent back the customary responses of unfounded bravado and spite, condemning their own citizens to bloodshed and destruction. The Unicorn King, however, sent back a request for a diplomatic summit to discuss terms. King Blaze was intrigued, and agreed to a meet with an emissary from the Unicorn King's court.” “The Unicorn King's ambassador was Star Swirl the Bearded.” “On the third day of the summit, the two of them met alone in the high hall of my grandfather's home, while all the mansion beside was emptied.” “First, the mountain exploded in a volcanic eruption. Then, the rooftop of the mansion burst open, and King Blaze rose into the skies with a roar. He held the pony clutched in his claws, squeezing the life out of him as flaming boulders fell from the sky around them, while the pony sent black lightning shooting into the King's eyes and bent back his claws with magic. Then they were gone from sight as black smoke covered the heavens.” “Shortly after the inferno died away, King Blaze descended alone from the peak of the broken mountain. His face was gouged, blood staining his down coat along his side. In all his battles and his wars, he never suffered so grievous an injury as in his meeting with the wizard. The wizard was nowhere to be found. My grandfather's mansion had been reduced to nothing but molten rock and slag metal.” “King Blaze's first act once he landed was to swear a blood oath of death and vengeance against the wizard. The Sword of Judgement hangs over the pony's neck, and all true griffons are sworn to hold him as nemesis and heresiarch. And King Blaze swore that he would not rest, and that he or his would not lift their claws against any other foe, until the wizard was dead.” “Since then, the King has continually scoured the earth for the world's greatest assassins, to send against the wizard. You know he even established a royal fund to be used solely to finance this pursuit? Without the expenses of warfare to attend to, it filled rapidly. Every year, a new master assassin has been sent out to kill the wizard and bring back his head.” “That was over fifty years ago, and Star Swirl the Bearded still lives. And in all that time, in accordance with the King's oath, the Griffon Empire has not expanded by one claw-length.” The Duchess turned her glaring eyes on the griffon who lay idly stretched out over a priceless antique sofa before her. “You think you can succeed where all others have failed?” “Of course I can.” The Duchess' eyes narrowed. “Many others have tried this mission before you. None have ever gotten close,” she said. “It is an outrage that one lone pony holds the destiny of the reborn Griffon Empire in check. It is an insult to all of us, to our ancestors, to the nobility of the griffon race. And yet, until he is gone, King Blaze will not permit any discussion of further expansion. The honorable King holds his oath sacrosanct, and will brook no disagreement. The faction which sees the oath fulfilled, will surely succeed him as monarch. If you can do this, griffons in nations undreamt-of will remember your name for millenia.” “I don't care about the politics,” the assassin said with a lazy wave of his claw. “You want a unicorn wizard dead. I've killed dozens. There isn't a trick of pony magic in the world that can catch me.” “You're entirely certain?” “Of course. Give me the word, and Star Swirl the Bearded is dead.” – – – Canterlot House 1, Cambridle, a few days after Clover's return. Clover sat at her desk, poring over a scroll, bending all her will on mastering its contents. It was not a long text, but she scrutinized each word, searching its deepest significance and weighing it against her purposes. Sometimes she would raise her eyes to the top and read through it to the end. Sometimes she would find a line or word wanting, and would carefully erase it and replace it with another, and then either nod, or shake her head and return the older choice to its place. She sighed, and read it again. Project: Harmony, Or, Operation Really A Good Pony Once You Get To Know Him. Project Plan version 1.2. By Clover Cordelia. Step 1: Make sure I'm caught up with my studies and chores. The Project is important, but I'm not going to let things fall apart even more due to carelessness. Step 2: Create a list, sorted by geographical proximity to Cambridle first and alphabetically second, of everypony I know. (Check. See attached document 1). Step 3: Go through the list from top to bottom. For each pony, find out everything that is going on in their lives. Specifically find out whether or not they are miserable and all their hopes and dreams are falling apart, and if so determine whether or not it's my fault or responsibility in any way, and how to fix it. Step 4: Fix everything uncovered in Step 3. Step 5: Show everypony that Star Swirl the Bearded is a good pony at heart. Step 6: Graciously accept the accolades Cambridle and Star Swirl will no doubt heap upon me as a result of step 5, without letting it go to my head. She stared at the underlined lines for a bit, as if trying to burn through them. The words did not react. Clover was distracted at that point by the entire building suddenly growing dim for a half-second, and then beginning to vibrate ever so slightly as the background hum of magical machinery grew more pronounced. “It's aliiiiiiive!” Star Swirl the Bearded cried out from below. “I suppose that's my cue to take a break,” Clover said to herself. In the days since Clover's return from the other world, Star Swirl had remained sluggish and listless, barely moving from his chair. He had continued to drink dangerous quantities of tea, but had at least been polite about asking Clover to make more. When he did leave his chair he went downstairs to the Experimental Manufacturing Platform, just above the basement storage area, to tinker on various pieces of magical machinery. By the sound of things, Clover deduced, the device he had been working on was now operational. “Ah, there you are,” Star Swirl said as Clover stepped into view. “And just in time! It's working!” Clover looked at it. The device was massive, taking up most of the platform, and along the edges everything that was not part of it had been pushed aside and tossed into piles that she knew she would sooner or later have to inventory and organize. She put that thought aside and studied the device. The machine was divided into many separate modules. Each module was a great metal box, stark and angular, with a thick metal door on the front large enough for a pony, and a thick cluster of tubes and wires in a variety of different magic-conducting materials sticking out of the top. Clover counted nine of the modules in a wide circle around a central hub with a similar, bigger module in the middle. The tubes and wires stretched above and linked all the modules together like a spider's web. The whole thing was connected to what she recognized as a huge power source at the back of the platform, with a stylized picture of a hydra with lightning bolts shooting out of it. Everything about it reeked of hubris and sinister connotations. “Congratulations, professor,” she said, speaking slowly and calmly. “Can I just ask, what is this thing and what does it do?” “This,” Star Swirl began, “is an experimental construct designed to aid in the furtherance of more efficient convalescence and recuperation.” He turned a valve to power down the device, and the humming and low-frequency vibrations faded and ceased. “It's a bed.” “I'm not sure you're going to be able to convince many ponies that they're better off sleeping inside a giant scary magical machine than on their soft mattresses, professor.” “Shows what they know,” Star Swirl said. “But nevermind that. I built this for my own use only. No other unicorn alive has the magical training needed to use it properly anyway. It's... a special trick. A Princess taught me how to do it.” “If you say so, professor,” Clover said. “But even so, I suspect actually resting might be more efficient than working yourself into your grave trying to come up with a better way of resting.” “This is important, Clover,” Star Swirl growled. “The Griffon King is going to try to kill me, and he doesn't joke around. I need to be prepared for this one. I can't sit around waiting for this frail old shell of a body to get back up to speed naturally. So I'm going speed up the process. Using this.” “I'm going to be indisposed for the weekend,” he continued. “I'm going to close down the house, and I'm giving you time off. I want you to go back to your dorm for the weekend, and brush up on your leyline weave theory. Got that?” “Yes, professor,” Clover said dutifully. “Good. Get your things together and head out, and I'll see you next week. And don't disturb me.” – – – A quick trot downtown later, Clover was sitting at Cambridle's best coffee house, where she had resolved to be a regular and model customer to wash away the memory of her parents, and recounting her recent experiences. “...And so here I am,” Clover finished. “Wow,” Chocolate Bunnies said. “That's pretty messed up.” Clover nodded. It was lucky, she thought, that Bunnies was free and not busy with classes or preparing for exams. Clover had knocked on her door unexpectedly, and interrupted what seemed to be a major study group inside the dorm, and Bunnies had immediately suggested the two of them leave and go catch up downtown. Clover had been happy for the offer, though she would have been perfectly happy to join in and maybe help the others understand complementary horn channeling techniques, or whatever other topics they were having trouble with, but Bunnies had insisted. “Yes. Yes it is.” Clover sighed. “But what really bothers me is that I realized in the middle of this that I'm losing touch with everypony I know, and if I allow that to happen then I really will become like Star Swirl. In a not good way.” “Much as I hate to say I told you so,” Bunnies said, absent-mindedly stroking down the fetlock of her right foreleg and spinning the bracelet that adorned it, “if you hang out with crazy ponies all the time, it's going to mess you up. I still think it was nuts to willingly sign on as his student.” “He's really a very nice pony once you get to know him,” Clover said sternly. She then glanced down at the bracelet. “What's that you're wearing?” Bunnies stopped stroking and looked down at the jeweled emerald band around her fetlock. “Oh, that's just, um...” “It's lovely,” Clover said, smiling. “Was it a gift from somepony special?” “Oh, uh, this is just from my parents,” Bunnies began, her mind racing as she smiled. “I got a package the other week, they saw this somewhere and thought of me. Yeah, they're so thoughtful.” “Oh. Well, that's good,” Clover said. “Glad to hear it. But it's been ages since we got to really talk, Bunnies, and I'm worried that I'm drifting away from my friends. I'd like it if we could talk about anything that's going on in your life, everything that's important to you, in full detail. Is that okay?” Ponies were always asking me, did I know about Chocolate Bunnies. “The first rule of Hug Club is you do not talk about Hug Club!” said the wiry, commanding mare in the center of the ring. “The second rule of Hug Club is you do not talk about Hug Club. Third rule of Hug Club – someone yells stop, goes limp, taps out, the hug is over. Fourth rule, only two ponies to a hug. Fifth rule, one hug at a time, fillies. Sixth rule, no shirts, no shoes. I'm not sure why that one is even in there. Seventh rule, hugs will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first night at Hug Club, you have to hug.” A massive earth pony stallion was the first into the ring as the wiry mare stepped back to watch the proceedings. He stood up on his back legs and roared a challenge, daring anyone to hug him. Chocolate Bunnies glanced down at the Hoof, and nodded. “You're up, Edge.” The pegasus mare with the spiky hair and double knife cutie mark gave a manic grin and swooped out into the ring in front of him. The stallion laughed. “You think you can hug me?” “Oh I know I can,” Cutting Edge asked, with a sly, mocking tone. “You look like the weakest hug I've seen all year.” The two ponies grabbed each other as the crowd erupted in raucous cheers. The two ponies in the ring jostled for position, grabbing, dodging and grabbing again before their arms were locked around each other in a battle for hug dominance. After six seconds, the stallion collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down his face. The crowd around them was silent. “Ssshhhh, it's okay,” Cutting Edge whispered in his ear, gently stroking down his mane. “You're a big strong colt. There's nothing wrong with you. Everypony needs a little help now and again, that's all. Understand?” He nodded, and when he looked into her eyes his face was free of all the anger and bravado of a few seconds previously. He had a soft, hopeful smile as he got up on his hooves, his legs shaking, and trotted out of the ring, and out of the building. “Ponies of Hug Club!” Chocolate Bunnies stepped out in front of the crowd of thirty dumbstruck ponies. Cutting Edge, and the other members of the Cambridle Discordians took up positions behind her. “I come bearing great tidings!” ... The annual shareholder's meeting at First Bank of Cambridle was going as it always did. “...Gold Standard, Exchange Rate, and Compound Interest. So that makes... half the board of directors in prison this year. Not bad. Alright, now that that's out of the way, let the Bloodletting commence!” At every seat of the table, ponies in suits drew bludgeons of varying size and practicality, and lunged at each other. A swift whack on the head with a rubber-covered cricket bat sent the first pony tumbling to the floor after mere seconds. Before long the conference room was littered with the groaning bodies of bankers, while those still standing had formed into three or four blocs and were negotiating fluid and shifting alliances with quick glances to and fro. Every few seconds, one pony would be singled out and abandoned by his comrades, and it would be every pony for himself again for a short while before another, entirely different set of blocs would form. A scream was heard from outside, and the door to the conference room was thrown open. “Sound the alarm!” the mare in the doorway cried. “We're under attack—!” Then she was silenced by a weighted combat-pillow smacking her in the face. Into the meeting room came Miss Silk Road, a pale yellow unicorn mare with her red mane cut short in a simple yet fetching fashion. The manecut, and her very expensive and stylish cravat, performed admirably in distracting onlookers away from noticing that her banker's suit was actually an altered evil cultist suit, purchased on the cheap from the local costume shop. “In accordance with Section Eight, Paragraph 10470 of the More Good Happy Banking Act, Year of the Stoat,” proclaimed Miss Silk, “The Board of the First Bank of Cambridle has been captured by the Bank of the Hoof, and all its assets now belong to us. Kneel before your new overponies, and praise the Conqueror of all Currency!” ... Standing on a rooftop, Chocolate Bunnies laughed as she looked up to the sky. Beneath her, the streets were overrun with bunnies, rampaging bunnies, murderous bunnies, bunnies of unusual size and aggression. “So that's the animal shelter in our column,” said Pink Top, who insisted upon being called 'Gallopsky', the pink earth pony stallion with the tousled purple mane. “They've agreed to let us air the bunnies so long as they're well-fed and none of them get hurt. They owed me a favor after I helped them with last year's carnival float. Between them, Hug Club, and the business school gang, the Siblinghood of the Hoof now controls Cambridle's underworld.” “Excellent,” Chocolate Bunnies said. “Anything else to report?” “The Guardian of the Tombs sent a notice of unconditional surrender, and a piece of tribute,” Pink Top said. “This is for you, I guess.” He presented an ornate jeweled bracelet. Bunnies accepted it and slipped her right leg into it. She held it up to the light, and listened. “The Hoof is pleased with this offering.” And that is how the Hoof came to Cambridle. “Oh, you know, there's really not much going on. I'm just studying...” Chocolate Bunnies said. Clover nodded, watching her friend intently. “How's that going? Are you keeping up with the class? Would you like to meet up to discuss the material sometime, maybe?” “It's fine!” Bunnies answered, rather too quickly. “Everything is just fine, yup, nothing bad or special or even interesting going on,” she contined, and laughed resolutely. Clover blinked. “Oh. Well, that's great then.” A thought came to Clover's mind from nowhere. “Oh, I just remembered,” she said, and began rifling through her saddlebags, “I wanted to show you something in one of Star Swirl's books, you might find useful... Where did I put it...” The seconds ticked by in silence. Clover frowned. The book wasn't there. “I must have left it behind at the Professor's place,” she said, turning to look back towards the door. Star Swirl said not to disturb him, but... She sighed. “I'll just run back real quick and get it. I'll see you later in the dorm, okay?” “Yeah, sure, the dorm. Listen, take your time, I'm just gonna make sure it's clean and ready for you. It's totally fine though. It's not like it's filled with siege weapons or anything.” – – – Clover found the front door of the house locked, which was unusual but not something she spared much thought about. The key was, in any case, hanging on a hook right outside the door, rendering the lock little more than a physical koan. She unlocked the door and went inside. A slight tingle in the air brushed over her ears as she crossed the threshold to the research hall, which hummed with sound of machinery. In the distance, she heard Star Swirl's hoofsteps, and low mumbling. “Don't mind me, Professor,” Clover said, raising her voice. “I'm just going to grab a book and head out again.” She headed for her workspace, passing by a chair occupied by a crumpled pile of grey cloth. Twenty seconds later, now with the book in her possession, she passed by the chair again, only for the cloth to shuffle and raise up with a groan. Clover stopped, and peered at it from a short distance. Once she looked, she noticed that the cloth was decorated like Star Swirl's own cloak, with stars and bells, but they were faded and tarnished, and the cloth itself looked worn thin and on the verge of fraying. The pile grunted, and a sad bell tingled as the brim of the hat raised up to reveal a pair of dim eyes that faced Clover but seemed to see nothing, in a face gaunt and unkempt. “Star Swirl?” Clover said, stepping closer. “Is everything alright?” Star Swirl's brow furrowed as he pondered the question for a few seconds. He shook his head. “No.” “What's wrong?” “What's... wrong?” Star Swirl said as though he did not understand the words, dragging out the syllables, tasting them. Then he sank back into a slumped state. “Everything,” he said. He spoke slowly, staring at the wall with sunken eyes in a gaunt and haunted face. “Once, long ago, in a fit of fury, I ripped the world apart. I've tried to put it back together again but I can't. I don't have what it takes. I have searched long and searched hard for a way to make things right, but there are so many paths that lead to apocalypse, and so few that avoid it.” He turned and locked eyes with Clover, and Clover was reminded of the void. “I see you dying in ice,” Star Swirl said. There was a crash behind Clover and she turned to see a figure clad in red swinging across the research hall on a rope suspended from the ceiling. The figure dropped down on the astronomy platform and let out a hearty cheer. “Haha! Once again an ancient treasure recovered!” It was Star Swirl the Bearded, wearing red robes. He looked much younger than the stallion Clover knew, he moved with a youthful swagger and his eyes were sharp and swift. “Must you make such noise? I am trying to work,” somepony said, and the sound was followed by the swift trot of a Star Swirl the Bearded dressed in purple, this one walking with formal solemnity and wearing a pair of slim spectacles on his muzzle. “That's not an ancient treasure,” he said, looking at the device in Star Swirl the Red's grip. “That's a diopter. It is made from brass and enchanted lead glass, and it is seven years old.” “Be silent!” said the Star Swirl the Red as he leapt up on the table. “The floor is lava.” Star Swirl the Purple looked down. “The evidence suggests that the floor is not lava.” Clover watched them argue for a few seconds, her mouth hanging open, before she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and muttered: “Priorities, Clover.” Then she turned back to Star Swirl the Grey, who had reverted to being one with the laundry. “Professor, what did you do to yourself?” “I need to be ready,” Star Swirl the Grey whispered. “When the next claw strikes. There are many paths to readiness, so I made many hooves to walk them. The moon showed me how, long ago. I contain multitudes. Some are straight, some are gnarled, some are light and some are heavy. Mountains for the mountainous, and rivers for the fluid.” “O...kay then,” Clover said, glancing around at the plurality of Star Swirls engaged in their own activities. She noticed a fourth one standing out on the balcony, whose robe was dark as night, and his stars brighter, almost as though they actually shone. He was carefully calibrating the telescope with tender movements and then looking through it up at the sky. “That... doesn't actually tell me much, but no surprise there.” “Mastery of the Amniomorphic Spell,” said a voice directly overhead. Clover looked up. Walking on the ceiling above her was Star Swirl the Green, his cloak defying gravity to keep him clothed. He skittered, spiderlike, to the wall and head-first down beside her, and looked at her with a manic grin and bloodshot pin-prick eyes that were distinctly unlike any pony's she had ever seen. Through the opening in his robe Clover thought she saw movements that could not have come from normal pony legs, and she gulped. “The Amniomorphic Spell?” “Psychosensitive equine amniomorph vessels paired with elastic mind-spectrometry,” Star Swirl the Green replied with great enthusiasm. “It's brilliant!” A thought came to Clover. “Does this have something to do with that machine down below?” she asked. “Star Swirl said it was a bed.” “An arcanological relaxation and recuperation device,” Star Swirl the Green answered. He chuckled. “A stroke of genius if I may say so myself. Let me explain. Star Swirl is burned out, and needs to recharge. But how best to do that? Star Swirl is an old pony, and even though it takes a lot to bring him down, once he's down it takes a long time to get him up again normally, time we do not care to waste. So how to speed up the process? Like this!” He gestured to the room and all the Star Swirls in it. “Ponies recharge in different ways. Some go out and feast on libations with their fellows, while others lock themselves inside in solitude and read a favorite story. But what if one pony could recharge in many different ways at once? And that! Is us!” He beamed. “Each of us is a concentrated part of Star Swirl the Bearded, free to do what each of us love the most. At the end of the week, we will reverse the process in the machine and Star Swirl will be fit to handle anything the world throws at him again.” Clover listened intently to the explanation. Countless thoughts raced through her head. One took prominence. “Did you just actually answer my question?” Clover asked. “In a simple and straight-forward manner, without me having to drag it out of you?” “There is no point to keeping it secret,” Star Swirl the Grey said, his voice thick with portents of doom. “It will all come out eventually, no matter what. Everything will. Every single thing. Nopony can hide from it.” Star Swirl the Green nodded, smiling. Clover nodded. “So I can ask you anything and you'll tell me?” The two Star Swirls looked at each and shrugged. Clover's eyes lit up like a midwinter feast fireplace. “Hold on a minute,” she said, grinning, “I need to get something to write with.” A minute later, Clover returned from the downstairs store room with twenty scrolls of blank parchment, a dozen fresh quills, and five full jars of ink. “I'm back! Let's get started!” she yelled with childish glee. “To start with, Professor, please explain the Amniomorphic Spell. I'd like it if you would use words in ordinary pony language this time.” It was only then she noticed that the room was now entirely silent, that Star Swirl the Green was gone, and that the pile of laundry on the chair was now, in fact, a pile of laundry. She then became aware of the sound of the front door's hinges creaking, and the periodic slamming as it swung back and forth in the wind. One last Star Swirl stood nearby. It was the one who looked most like the original, but with darker robes, and he was glowering at the door with great vigor and scorn. “I closed that door,” Clover said. “I know I did.” “There was an illusion covering the door from the inside,” said Star Swirl. “Otherwise they all would have gone out on their own. But it was automatically switched off when you came in, and you didn't turn it back on.” He turned a disappointed, accusatory look at her. “How was I supposed to know about that?” Clover pleaded. “You were supposed to stay out until Monday,” Star Swirl replied. “Right, right...” Clover gulped. “Alright, I'll just go get them back. They can't have gotten far, probably.” An awkward silence followed this statement. Clover cleared her throat. “Look – you seem like a sensible fellow.” The awkward silence lived on. “Can you just take care of yourself here while I'm away?” “I,” Star Swirl said with a sneer, “have nothing to say to this barbaric and cruel world that would destroy the only things that give life beauty and meaning in favor of mindless drudgery. I shall remain here.” “Great,” Clover said, while the door flapped and clattered against the wall. “This won't be a problem. No problem at all.”