//------------------------------// // 3. The Devil You Know // Story: This Game of Mine // by Swan Song //------------------------------//   “You cannot control the enemy. You can control yourself. The real victory lies within.” —Mark of Resolve        Everypony was staring. They thought they were being sneaky, but it was easy to tell. Out of the corners of my eyes, I’d see them lean towards their neighbors in the marketplace. From the edges of my hearing, I could hear whispering as I passed their stalls. Sometimes I’d look up and catch their gaze for a split second, before they hurriedly looked away, as if they’d seen something they shouldn’t have. A fair number even grimaced before turning elsewhere. But occasionally, they would wave. “Congratulations, Miss Belle! Wear that cutie mark proudly!” “Thank you, Mister Davenport. I shall!” Or they’d give me presents. “Oooh, look at that! Grats, muffin! Have a muffin!” “You’re too kind, Miss Doo! Thank you.” But two of them admonished me. “Well, well, what do we have here,” came the sneer of an olive stallion as I trotted through town square. “This little Crusader finally has her cutie mark.” “Hmph,” joined the blue-coated mare next to him in a sweetly acidic voice. “All those times my men and I dragged you out of some random ditch in the Everfree, for this?” This time, I stopped before the intimidating pair who had spoken—two town guards, both decorated in iron plate armor, standing a post in town square. Countless years of perilous Crusading ensured that we had come to know virtually every guard stationed in the town, and these two were no exception. The stallion was more than twice my size, and I knew he could crush me in an instant if he tried. The mare was much more lithe, but I knew she could probably murder the stallion. In her sleep. I looked up into the hardened gaze of the deadly mare, gave her my most award-winning smile, and rolled for charisma. “I’m afraid your men may need to be prepared for more dragging in the future, Captain. I am but one Crusader, after all.” The Captain of the Town Guard fixed me with narrow eyes… before leaning back and bursting into hearty laughter. “Hear that, Bulwark? It looks like you won’t be out of a job quite just yet!” “Hah!” The stallion’s guffaw boomed across the open square. “Well, at least I can thank ya for keepin’ it interesting.” He held out a hoof before me. “Congratulations on scorin’ your mark, missy.” “I likely wouldn’t be alive to have done so if not for your constant watch,” I replied, slapping the stallion’s hoof. “Thank you, Sir Bulwark, Captain Romana, for looking after me and my fellow Crusaders these many years.” “We look forward to many more,” said the Captain, beaming at me with glittering blue eyes and wide rows of flawless ivory. “Off with you now, little Belle. Don’t be late!” I continued my trot to school, which was otherwise mostly the same as any other before—aside from the staring. I glanced back at the dove adorning my haunches, laid bare for all the world to see. Smite them all. They didn't need to be happy with me, as long as I was. Suddenly, there was an incredibly loud “GASP!”—literally, she said the word ‘gasp’—and a vibrant blur of color and motion virtually materialized before me, staring intently at my rear with mere inches to spare between its eyes and my cutie mark. “Like what you see, Miss Pinkie?” I shook my flank, booping her on the nose with my cutie mark. “Like it?” She fixed me with a menacing glare. “Like it?” She began shaking violently. “’Like’ it doesn’t even flipping DESCRIBE IT!” She exploded in a shower of confetti and streamers, surging into the air as small firecrackers burst all around her. As she landed, she swept me up in her arms and spun me around. “Ooooooooh, LOOKATYOU! Our itsy bitsy Sweetie Bellie got her cutesy wootsy tushie mark!” “I am not itsy bitsy!” I laughed, waving my legs wildly in the air. “You are to me!” She pulled me into an incredibly tight hug, and I was submerged into an endless sea of fuzzy pink. “You’re so adowable I wanna put you in my pocket and carry you around on adventures oh my gosh that’s a great idea, Sweetie! Pocket Belle, the finest adventuring companion, in a fun size package for all your mobile mischief needs! You’re so smart!” What. “That’s silly, Miss ­Pinkie, and you know it!” “GASP!” she gasped again. “You’re right! How could I even think of capitalizing upon you and your adorableness and your trademarks and your cutie marks for my own nefarious materialistic needs, when I haven’t even thrown you a cuteceñara for your brand new cutie mark?! How silly of me!” She bonked herself on the head with a hoof. “I must have had my checklist upside down or something!” “Aww, that’s sweet, Miss Pinkie, and thank you so much.” I waved a hoof as I continued towards school, inviting her to walk with me— er, I guess bouncing worked too. “But you don’t have to throw me a cuteceñara yet—” “What?! How could I not throw you a cuteceñara?! That’s impossibrew! In fact, that’s worse than impossibrew, which is saying something, because Impossibrew is the worst kind of brew! Seriously, I tried some, it’s awful. Hey, if you let me throw you a cuteceñara, I positively Pinkie Promise not to bring any Impossibrew. Oh, and there’ll be tons of video games and I’ll invite everypony even if they don’t like games or think that they’re only for colts, because they’re stupid and I don’t care because you got your cutie mark for video games oh my gosh that’s so awesome and please let me throw you a huuuuuuge LAN party for your cuteceñara—” I flooded with warmth at this, but oh my Stars I needed to make it stop now otherwise she would go on forever. “Don’t worry, Miss Pinkie, you can throw me a cuteceñara,” I interrupted in a placating tone. “And… I appreciate it, really. All of this means a lot to me, you have no idea.” I hugged her around the neck again, for good measure, and she audibly ‘squeak’ed as I did, like a rubber duckie. “Just, it might need to wait for a bit. I think my sister is gonna try to surprise me with something tonight.” Like she usually did on my birthdays. “Pfft! Who said anything about tonight?” I gave her a flat look. “Your brain did. I can guarantee it.” “Oh, wow, how did you know?! You sure you didn’t get your cutie mark in mind reading?” She giggle-snorted. “Well, my brain is being a bad brain anyways. I should stop listening to it! My tail is pretty smart though. I listen to it a lot!” Suddenly, her tail twitched. “Oop! Like right now omigosh MOVE!” Before I could even process her command, she had grabbed me around the waist and swept me off my feet. “Whoa! Miss Pinkie, please don’t spi—” CRASH. I looked down at where I had been standing mere moments ago, where a once-whole flower pot lay shattered in the path. “Phew! That was a close one.” She put me down and called out to the window sill above us. “Careful! You coulda rung a Belle with that!” Nopony responded. “Huh. That’s weird. Usually there’s an apology when that happens.” She shrugged. “Oh well! It was probably an accident. At least you’re alive and unrung! Oh hey, speaking of Belles and bells, I think I hear the school bell and you should probably get going before you’re late try not to get killed again BYE!” She sped off. Tearing my gaze away from the crushed flowerpot, I turned to her retreating figure. “Bye Miss Pinkie, thanks for, uh... keeping me unrung!” I called after her. I then returned my gaze to the window, which belonged to a house I walked past every day on my way to school. It wasn’t far away from where I was standing, but it was far enough that the flowerpot couldn’t have just slipped from the sill. This wasn’t an accident. And I knew who lived here. “Featherweight?” she said incredulously, staring over her papers. “Yes, Miss Cheerilee. Featherweight.” I didn’t believe it either. Feather and I weren't exactly ‘friends’, but out of all my classmates, he was one of the kindest. We had studied together before, and I had always gotten along pretty well with his family. “…And you say Miss Pinkie can vouch for you?” she asked, glancing at the door as the student in question walked through. “Yes ma’am. She can confirm which house we were in front of this morning.” Cheerilee sighed. “Very well. Head out to the hall—we’ll join you in a moment.” She stood up, and as she trotted towards his desk, I exited through the back. Featherweight was a sweetheart. He wouldn’t try to pull something like this on me. It was only a few seconds later that Miss Cheerilee emerged, leading a very nervous-looking Featherweight—the colt looked as pale as a ghost. “Featherweight, I’ve just been informed by Sweetie Belle that you attempted to—” “It wasn’t me, I swear!” he cried out, suddenly bursting into tears. Of course it wasnt. “So you know something, but it wasn’t you?” “Well… well, it was!” he continued. “But they forced me to! They pushed me before I could change my mind!” Obviously. “They? They who?” “I-I can’t say, or they’ll—” “Diamond Tiara,” I answered for him, my voice cold. “She probably knew I walked past that house every day.” She glanced at me, before looking at Featherweight again. “Is this true?” Did you even need to ask. “I… I’m not allowed to—” I put a hoof on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Feather, you don’t have to say anything. Miss Cheerilee and I both know that you would never do something like this.” He gave me a look of utter gratitude. “I’m s-sorry, Sweetie,” he sniffled. “My parents let them in, thinking that they were my friends and we would be walking to school together.” I gave him a hug. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Turning back to Miss Cheerilee, I spoke again. “Miss Cheerilee, you know it’s Diamond. It always is.” “It always is,” she said with a heavy sigh, putting a hoof on her brow in frustration. “Do you think you’ll be comfortable staying in class today, Featherweight?” “I… I really don’t,” he sniffled. “Very well. Go ahead and gather your things then. I’ll write you a note. If she asks, just tell her I suspended you for the day.” “I’ll swing by later today to drop off your homework, alright?” “T-thanks, you guys.” He gave Miss Cheerilee a hug and smiled gratefully at me before disappearing back into the classroom. As we watched him leave, I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath, “This is a load of manure.” Miss Cheerilee turned toward me with a tired expression. “Sweetie Belle…” “It is!” I started pacing back and forth in front of her. “She walks around like she owns the place, bullies everypony into doing things they don’t want to do, threatens them if they don’t listen—” “Sweetie, honey—” “—and we can’t do a damn thing about it because her stupid family donated enough for some stupid expansion to this stupid school and for Sun’s sake they all need to all go stick a cactus—” “ENOUGH, MISS BELLE!” she shouted, stomping her hoof angrily. “I need you to calm down right this instant and do as Rarity says.” The Phrase. "Stop what you’re doing. Drop everything. Breathe in, breathe out. Just like I taught you." I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. No mind. The anger radiated off of me in waves. “Ready?” “Not yet.” I did it again, feeling the fury recede, and leaving only an empty coldness in its absence. “Alright. I think I am now.” I opened my eyes and looked at my teacher. She held me in her steady gaze, eyes filled with worry. “I apologize for my outburst, Miss Cheerilee.” “That’s quite alright.” She put a hoof on my shoulder. “I understand you’re angry—I am too—but it’s just like you said. As long as Diamond’s father has his hoof in the Headmaster’s pie, there’s little we can do about it. No matter what we divulge to the Princess of their mating rituals.” I snorted. Then I sat on the floor, defeated. “It’s just not fair.” “I know, honey. I know.” She wrapped me in her forehooves, and I felt a surge of warmth as I sat in the embrace of my teacher. My dear friend Cheerilee. “…Thanks,” I whispered quietly. “For this. And everything else.” “Anytime, Sweetie.” We stood up. “Will you be okay today, or should I let you go home as well?” “Nah. I’ll be fine. I’ve got my friends. And I still need to give Featherweight his homework and today’s notes.” “Alright, Sweetie.” We stood up. “You’re a tough filly. Hang in there, yeah?” “Yeah. I will.” I brushed a bit of dirt off my tail. “It’s so very strange.” She quirked an eyebrow. “What is?” “You always know how to cheer me up.” Miss Cheerilee gave me a flat look as she opened the door. “Don't make me regret this. I can and will give you detention.” “How could you do such a thing? I am the very definition of class.” I nearly danced through the doorway as she buried her face in a hoof. “…which resulted in Equestria and Gryphos barring most travel between the two countries for the last two years,” Cheerilee explained, drawing and erasing two lines between two flags on the board. “However, over the course of several diplomatic summits, we have lifted many of our economic trade sanctions against Gryphos.” As I diligently wrote notes from the board, I quietly marveled at how I could manage to apply ‘diligently’, ‘wrote’, and ‘notes’ all at once, to myself, simultaneously. It often took a ridiculous force of will for me to pay attention in class, and yet here I was, diligently writing notes. It was astounding! It was stupendous! It was another adjective of awe-inspiring proportions! Hm. I wondered why I was so focused today. Maybe it’s because Featherweight’s counting on me this time, and there’s more at stake than just my own grades. Yeah, that explains it. He’s relying on me, and I can’t let him down! Especially since Diamond Tiara was the reason why he couldn’t stay today. If he falls behind, he’ll become another casualty in her name. I can’t let her be responsible for the failures of another student! This is all just another battle in the protracted campaign against the evil Diamond Tiara and her devilish machinations! I can’t let her injustices go unpunished, and I shall reinforce my holdings and defend the honor of those I seek to protect. Nothing can extinguish my light! Nodding to myself in determination, I looked back up at the board—only to realize that, in my rumination, I had actually missed part of the lecture. Drat. In fact, for some reason, Miss Cheerilee wasn’t speaking—Button was. “…but if we’re at war with Gryphos—” “We’re not at war with Gryphos,” Miss Cheerilee corrected gently. “If we’re at cold war with Gryphos,” he continued undeterred, “then why can I still play video games with gryphons? How do they have access to the Stratonet if it’s run out of Stratopolis?” That was… actually a really good question. How could Freya access our network if her country wasn't exactly on the best of terms with us? There was an audible retch of disgust from a corner of the room, which Miss Cheerilee pointedly ignored. “A fantastic observation, Button.” She turned around and started drawing a row of clouds between the two flags. “The Stratonet is one of the great ironies of this conflict. A lot of Gryphosi economic and communications infrastructure relies on it, so it’s one of our bargaining chips—if they attacked, they would lose access to the network immediately, which would cripple them. Yet, at the same time, they can’t expand their Stratonet grid without rare materials and pony resources from our side of the border. In both ways, we have them trapped.” Silver Spoon raised her hoof. “Yes, Silver?” “If they attack us and win, can’t they just take those resources anyways?” “I’m afraid so.” “Why don’t they? You said they have a bigger and more powerful military.” “Because despite that, it wouldn’t be a decisive victory. We may be less powerful than them, but we're at least powerful enough to cause a lot of damage, and they’re worried about losing too many people and resources to a fight. More importantly, not all of them want to fight us. Their government faces plenty of anti-war resistance from its people.” “People? Hmph. They’re just carnivorous beasts, clawing jealously at proper civilization.” “Raise your hoof before speaking, Diamond. And they’re just as advanced as we are, perhaps more so. They put a gryphon on the moon.” “We put a nightmare on the moon, and we can move it around.” “A lot of ponies would die before the Princesses could put that magic to use. If the gryphons are smart enough to put someone on the moon through technology, imagine how much damage they could cause if they turned that technology on us. They’d have missiles over our borders in seconds. The Princesses are powerful, but they are not gods. No matter what the posters lining the streets say, they can’t protect us all.” A hushed silence overcame the classroom at this proclamation. That was a rather bold statement for Miss Cheerilee to make. “You are all going to be graduating very soon, so I’m not going to lie and make it sound pretty,” she said gravely, turning around to erase the board. “War is never pretty, and we shouldn’t go around asking for it, even if we think we can win.” The bell rang at this point. “And with the mood in this room considerably brightened, I hereby declare political science over for today! Have a good lunch break, my little ponies! I expect to see you all back for Equestrian Lit in an hour.” For a few moments, the room became a cacophony of scratching and dragging as ponies scooted out of their chairs. Apple Bloom, Button and Scoots all looked at me hopefully, and I smiled quickly and waved my hoof. "Gimme a second," I mouthed to the fillies, who nodded and turned away. I hopped off my seat and walked straight up to Cheerilee’s desk. “Miss Cheerilee?” “Hmm?” She was stacking papers and preparing to leave. “Everything all right, Sweetie Belle?” “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I hoofed her a stack of papers. “Here, I have something for you.” She took the papers, scanned them quickly, and looked up at me with a delighted smile. “Thank you, Sweetie Belle. I’m very proud of you. I’ll grade these immediately.” “Aw, you don’t have to do that. Come have lunch with the rest of us!” “Er. Well, I’ll be indisposed for quite some time anyways. I had a fair bit of coffee this morning.” She coughed. “That, and I still need to grade your work. I’ll probably be holed up in the faculty room for a while longer.” I opened my mouth to say something, but she shooed me away with a hoof and a smile. “Go on! Join your friends. I’ll be fine.” “Okay. Thanks again, Miss Cheerilee. I’ll see you after lunch!” As I turned around, I couldn’t help but feel an elevated sense of pride. My kill-death ratio was positive again—! Er, I mean, you know, higher than one. Whatever. After all, small victories like turning in all my late homework were just that—small victories—but they did a heckuva lot to brighten my day anyways. It was odd how such a little thing could do so much to improve my mood. Yet who was I to question it? I trotted out to the lunch tables, where my friends were already muzzle-deep into their meals. “Heya, Crusaders,” said Scootaloo cheerfully, busting a salad out of a lunchbox dazzlingly adorned with a cacophony of rainbow stickers. “How is everypony?” “Pretty swell,” replied Apple Bloom, pulling—what else?—an apple out of a bag. “Though I gotta say, all this talk of war scares me.” “It’s not that bad,” I consoled her, taking a seat up and unboxing my leftovers from last night’s pasta dinner. “I’m scared too, but I’m sure everything will be alright.” “Says you, Miss ‘I Got A Cutie Mark For Shooting Gryphons’,” teased Scootaloo. “Heeey!” I playfully batted her with a hoof. “That’s not funny! They’re just games. And I’m shooting at the Forlorn, not gryphons.” “Well, technically the Forlorn are all still gryphons,” piped up Button through a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich. “Chaos-infested gryphons, sure, but gryphons.” “Button, hush, you’re not helping my case.” “Which makes me wonder,” pondered Apple Bloom as she paused over her—what else?—apple fritter. “Ain’t y’all got a gryphon in yer guild thing? Why in Equestria would a gryphon wanna play a game about ponies killin’ gryphons?” “It’s complicated!” I exclaimed in exasperation. “Those specific gryphons in the game are bad guys, and they aren’t the only things we fight! More importantly, Freya knows they’re just video games too. She plays to hang out with us, not to kill gryphons.” “I dunno, that just sounds super weird,” said Scootaloo. “‘Hey Miss Freya, what are you up to today?’ ‘Not much, gryphon number two! Just gonna play a nerdy video game where I shoot members of my own species with the help of ponies from the enemy country!’ ‘Gee, Freya, I was gonna go eat a bunny rabbit, but that sounds like way more fun!’” I smacked my head into my desk with an audible thump. Ow. “This is not a conversation I want to be having right now.” “Pfft. I’m pretty sure Freya would love this,” Button supplied jovially. That didn't make me feel better. “If we get invaded by Gryphos, and Freya comes to our houses to skewer us alive with her talons, I’m blaming you entirely.” “Yeah right! You’d beat her down in seconds. You have a way higher kill-death ratio than her.” “She has claws. What am I gonna do, throw my Hoofbox at her?” “You could try,” provided Scootaloo with a meaningful fork-point at me. “Don’t those things weigh like forty pounds? It’d probably knock her right outta the sky.” I held up a scrawny foreleg. “Do I look like I can throw forty pounds?” “I can!” exclaimed Apple Bloom happily through a mouthful of—what else?—apple sauce. “I once tossed a fifty pound bale of hay ten meters!” “Oh yes, the mighty gryphons with their automatic rifles and razor sharp talons shall quake at the might of the indomitable Apple Bloom, Tosser of Hay Bales.” “Hah, I’d take that title if it came with a hay bale as a cutie mark,” joked Scootaloo. “I wish I got a hay bale as a cutie mark,” Apple Bloom murmured. “Sun, I wish I got anythin’ as a cutie mark.” Her glum eyes turned to me. “I’m jealous of ya, Sweetie Belle.” Hoboy. “Sorry, gals,” I said in apology. “I didn’t exactly mean for that to happen.” “I mean, you even managed to get it without any of our help,” added Scootaloo. “I helped!” proclaimed Button gleefully. “Meh,” Scootaloo meh’d. “I just figured we’d be involved somehow. Or at least together when it happened,” muttered Apple Bloom. “I mean, we’re the Crusaders. We’re in it together, aren’t we?” ...You all realize this is why I didn’t wanna hang out with you yesterday, right? “Really, girls?” glowered Button. We all turned to him. “None of this is her fault, and you know it.” Apple Bloom sighed, blushing slightly and resting her face on folded forelegs. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” “And we really are happy for you,” added Scootaloo, giving me a genuine smile. “Even if, yanno, you did get your mark in something kinda weird and geeky.” I gave her a flat look. “Hey! It’s still totally awesome.” “Yeah, we’re really happy for ya, Sweets,” Apple Bloom nodded with a grin, but it quickly faded. “I guess we just can’t help bein’ a lil’… jealous, that’s all. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Yer not just good at somethin’, yer the best in the world at it.” Err, kinda, but not quite. I figured it’d be too much of a hassle to explain it all. Oddly enough, Button didn’t correct her either—he had an uncharacteristically serious look on his face that was almost… unsettling. “Look, I’m sorry, girls. I really am. And I get it, I do. I was so sure one of you would get your marks first, and I always wondered how I’d feel about it. I’m pretty sure I’d be feeling the same thing you are now.” Maybe I still was. I looked back at the mark, at all the confusion it caused me. “I guess… I just thought it’d be different too. Sun’s sake, I’m actually kinda scared.” “Scared?” Apple Bloom cocked an eyebrow. “Why would’ja be scared of yer cutie mark?” “I’m not scared of it,” I waved my hooves, trying to articulate my thoughts. “I’m just… scared of what it means. Miss Twilight and Rarity always said that we choose our destiny, not have it chosen for us. She always said we’ll know what it means beyond a shadow of a doubt when we get it. And… well, I don’t.” They looked up at that, giving me blank stares. “You don’t know what your cutie mark means?” asked Scootaloo. “I don’t know what all of it means,” I clarified. “I know it has something to do with video games, but that’s really all it is. I wish I hadn’t been alone when I got it either, because then at least I’d have someone nearby to kinda explain it to me, maybe help me figure it out, or see what I did to earn it.” “I guess that makes sense, but…” Scootaloo examined my cutie mark. “I mean, there’s a game controller on there. I dunno, that seems to kinda explain itself. You’re good at video games.” “Yeah, but how is that supposed to help me? Like, what am I even supposed to do with that talent? It’s not like I can use it anywhere else. Or turn it into a destiny.” “I dunno,” Apple Bloom pondered. “Do you know why it’s a dove?” “I… guess?” I shrugged, glancing at the mark and examining the bird, wings spread in flight. “I named my character Dovetail. Does that have something to do with it?” “It might,” she pondered some more, deep in thought, sipping from her—what else?—apple juice box. “Why’d you name her Dovetail, specifically?” “I dunno. I just like doves. They’re really pretty.” “Well…” She tapped a hoof to her chin. “In carpentry, dovetails are a kinda woodworkin’ technique that ya use to fit two pieces of wood together, like sideways puzzle pieces,” she explained. “I picked it up while helpin’ Big Mac with a nightstand. The corners of the drawer were dovetailed together.” “Hey, that makes sense,” thought Button suddenly. “You’re our guild leader. You organized the team that beat Theralon, and you got the cutie mark when we won. Maybe it means you’re just really good at bringing people together to fight alongside you.” “Hah! What if her special destiny is to organize an army and win the war?” Scootaloo stood onto her seat. “Sweetie Belle, Mighty Conqueror of Gryphos and Nerdy Video Game Aficionado!” “That’s silly!” I giggled. “I play video games to have fun, not to wage war.” “In her hooves she wields the mighty Hoofbox controller!” she continued, heedless of my comment. “Pow! Smack!” She made swinging movements, fluttering her wings with each pirouette. “Many gryphons are felled from her mighty blows!” “Alright, alright, calm down, Taliesin,” I smirked. “Yeesh. And you call me nerdy.” “Hah, sorry. I’ve been watching too much Game of Pones lately.” “Yeah, soon I bet you’ll fly past me on the nerd scale.” Hah. Get it? Because she’s a pegasus. Scootaloo stopped and fixed me with a stare so grave it could rouse the dead. “Sweetie Belle, please stick to video games and never try comedy.” “How can I not?” I grinned wickedly. “My cutie mark’s a joke.” Apple Bloom was suddenly overcome with an intense coughing fit, accompanied by a spatter of apple juice on the table. Score! I mentally patted myself on the back, proud of my ability to spontaneously asphyxiate my best friends through self-deprecation. By the end of the lunch period, my mood had lightened considerably. Even if I had gotten my cutie mark by myself, it wasn’t something I had to deal with alone—my friends were there to help me, just like it should have been, just like we always planned to. And because of them, I actually had a vague sense of what my cutie mark might mean. That was a lot more progress than I had made throughout the entirety of yesterday, and even though I had no idea what it meant for my destiny, the knowledge still warmed me. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. …Or at least, that's what I thought until we walked back into the classroom. A small crowd had gathered just outside the windows and doors, peering intently at some kind of frantic shuffling inside. Many seemed aghast, but more than a few were giggling, and there was the occasional stomp of approval. “Huh. I wonder what’s goin’ on?” asked Apple Bloom. Twist turned to us. “It lookth like Mith Cheerilee is trying to erathe something off the board.” “Miss Cheerilee?” I thought out loud, then began pushing my way through the crowd. Finally making my way through the door, I turned to the front of the room. “What happened? Is everything alright?” “Sweetie!” she exclaimed in a panicked voice. “Err, don’t come in here right now, the classroom’s not quite ready yet—” Too late. Apparently that had been a long bathroom break, because in her absence the entire chalkboard was completely inundated with all sorts of décor that Miss Cheerilee had barely gotten started on wiping down. As I emerged from the crowd, she took one look at me and froze mid-swipe, as if I had caught her in the middle of covering up a crime scene. That analogy became a little more appropriate as my eyes left her comically statuesque posture and slowly traveled across the proclamations on the board, taking in all the phrases of jagged text. DIRTY LITTLE GRYPHON LOVER CAN’T SAY GAMER WITHOUT GAY SWEETIE AND BUTTON, SITTING IN A TREE, B-R-E-E-D-I-N-G Filling the negative space between the juvenile declarations were crude drawings of me, Button, gryphons, and some of the other Crusaders, locked in all sorts of poses and vividly… um, wow. I hadn’t even thought of using my horn for that. All of this gravitated around a single gigantic proclamation in vibrant red chalk that dominated the center of the board. SWEETIE BELLE THE GAYMARE As I had stood there processing all of this, ponies had filed into the classroom to get a better look. Now, all eyes in the classroom were turned to me, awaiting my response. “Snkkkt.” Miss Cheerilee blinked. I think the rest of the class did, too. It was like the shot heard around the world. And somehow, their reaction just made mine even more justified. “Aa-hahhahahaha!” I burst into tears, laughing uncontrollably. “Aaaaa-hahahahahhaHA!” Sweetie Belle, I hereby deem you certifiably insane. Of course I was insane. My subconscious was diagnosing me with psychosis. Why wouldn’t it? You’re laughing at drawings of yourself doing unspeakable acts to your best friends. I was allowed to find this funny if doing so kept me from spontaneously setting fire to the room and everypony in it. Ah. Very well, carry on then. So I did. All the way to the Headmaster’s office. “Miss Belle, this is not a laughing matter. For your own benefit, please stop laughing.” “Ahaha! Ah. Hah. Heh. Sorry.” I wiped a tear from my hoof. “Forgive me. It’s involuntary.” “…If you say so.” I sat in the seat before the Headmaster’s desk, grinning like I had just won the lottery. She eyed me critically over her leopard pince-nez glasses—I still had no idea why ponies think that’s in style. “Do you have any idea who might have been responsible for this?” “Oh, it could have been anypony!” I exclaimed. “Though it was probably Diamond Tiara.” She blanched at that. “Did you want the logical explanation? Okay! Statistically speaking, a vast majority of bullying cases in this class originate from Diamond Tiara, so it’s entirely safe to assume that future incidents will stem from the same source. But I suppose that’s an appeal to tradition. One could also say that, statistically, she’s due for a moment of innocence, because she’s done it so many times that it can’t possibly be her this time. But that would be a gambler’s fallacy.” “Sweetie Belle. Nether fallacy applies to either scenario. You are using them incorrectly.” “Oh, is that so? Well then! I apologize for my rather limited understanding of logic, but I suppose that’s likely due to the gross failings of my educational system. After all, I imagine they would be rather incapable of teaching me logic due to their glaring ineptitude at properly wielding it when dealing with any misbehavior on the part of Diamond Tiara!” Delivering the final syllable of my accusation on a deceptively jolly cadence, I dropped all pretenses of joviality and glared at her. “But then again, that might be a false cause.” “It very well may be.” She was not amused. Laugh, you insufferable old bat. I was a comedy maestro. “Miss Belle, this educational institution takes discipline very seriously.” Yeesh. Tough crowd. “If we were to discover that Miss Tiara is truly culpable of any wrongdoing, we would pursue all avenues available to remedy the issue.” I snorted at that. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I replied with finality, crossing my forelegs. “And see it we shall,” she affirmed. “Miss Cheerilee informed me that she has already contacted the parents of the parties supposedly involved, and they should be arriving shortly.” For some reason, this seemed to set her on edge. She did not look pleased with the prospect, and kept nervously shifting her eyes to the doorway. “Miss Belle, I must stress that you watch your tongue and do not speak unless prompted. This is a structured procedure, and your cooperation and adherence to the process will make it much easier.” Before I had a chance to respond to that, the door opened, and in walked a brown-coated stallion in a pressed business suit. I recognized him immediately—Filthy Rich, father of Diamond Tiara, Chairman of Rich’s Barnyard Bargains, and the richest man in Ponyville. Of course the Headmaster would be nervous. The man probably paid half her salary. Quickly on his tail was the little devil herself, who ignored me entirely, her nose fixed towards the ceiling in contempt. Miss Cheerilee entered behind the pair—she gave me a worried look, to which I merely returned my trademark smile. Why so serious, teach? Her brow furrowed, seemingly unsure what to make of my bearing. “Good afternoon, Headmaster,” came the genial voice of Mister Rich. “I was summoned?” “Yes, Mister Rich.” The Headmaster cleared her throat, and formally crossed her forelegs on her desk. “We called you here at the behest of Miss Tiara’s primary teacher, Miss Cheerilee, who wished to inform you of some of your daughter’s recent behavior—” “This is what my life is like, father!” she cried, waving a foreleg above her head, as if dramatically wounded. “Day in, day out, all of these baseless assertions!” “Er, yes, of course,” he gave his daughter a dismissive wave. “Well, what sort of behavior are we talking about?” “Miss Cheerilee, if you would?” “Of course.” My teacher stepped forward, clearing her throat. “This morning, Miss Sweetie Belle here informed us of an attempt outside of school grounds to drop a flower pot on her head. The flower pot apparently originated from the second story window of another one of our students, a Mister Featherweight.” “He didn’t do it,” I declared with finality. “I believe I told you to stay quiet, Miss Belle,” the Headmaster intoned coolly. “Where is Rarity? Why am I in here alone with you and Diamond’s family?” “Be silent, Miss Belle, or I shall have you removed from my office.” “Absolutely not,” I growled, standing up. “I will not—” “Sweetie Belle,” interrupted Miss Cheerilee, “do as Rarity says.” What? Whose side were you on?! ...But I had made a promise. Only for you, Miss Cheerilee. I closed my eyes. And I breathed in, and out. But this time, I minded. “If I may ask,” Mister Rich spoke, ignoring me as I performed my focusing ritual, “what ultimately happened to this ‘Featherweight’?” “We sent him home for the day,” replied Miss Cheerilee. “Hmm. I would have expected further disciplinary action against such a brazen attack against another student… or perhaps it was an accident. Either way, I’m not sure what that has to do with my Diamond.” “Sweetie Belle suspected your daughter of intimidating Mister Featherweight into dropping the pot.” “Does she have any proof?” “She has the eye-witness testimony of Pinkie Pie, who was accompanying Sweetie Belle and protected her from the falling object.” "Ah. I take it Miss Pinkie Pie was unharmed?” “I wasn’t informed of any injuries on her part, so I assume she is well.” “That is good to hear. Would Miss Pie’s testimony name my daughter, Diamond Tiara, as a suspect of the attack?” “Not as far as I am aware.” “Then it is of no relevance to myself or my daughter. Please continue.” Throughout this exchange, I said nothing, a flawless caricature of a perfect pony who was very much in control of herself, looking all the world as if I were attending a particularly uninteresting tennis match. Inside, my blood churned like the Seas Beyond. “Very well. Moving on. After lunch period, the chalkboard in Miss Cheerilee’s room was host to a rather vulgar display of personal attacks, many of which were of a highly inappropriate nature, primarily directed at Miss Belle.” “And? You suspect my daughter?” “Indeed. A few students have pointed to her as the culprit. Two in particular informed me that they were intimidated into doing it, though they would not say by whom.” “Snips and Snails, obviously,” Diamond scoffed. “They probably just did it themselves and want to indict me of wrongdoing so they can get off scot free!” “As I said, Miss Tiara, they did not name you. The other students did.” “Diamond, hush. Let daddy take care of this.” He turned back to the Headmaster. “Was there any certifiable proof, aside from verbal testimony, that my Diamond was responsible?” “None that we could find.” “Very well. Then I believe this case is open-and-shut. In both reports you’ve conveyed to me, there has been no verifiable evidence to indict my daughter. She is being framed, and I do not appreciate being called out here to listen to these assertions when they are not backed with evidence. You have my sincerest condolences that your institution is attended by children who are unable to behave themselves. I share these condolences with young Miss Belle here, who must suffer for your incompetence.” I glowered at him. He gave me a look, and I could not tell for the life of me what thoughts lay behind that expression. “Ahem.” The Headmaster drew our attention again. “Yes, well. As you are aware, this is merely a formal procedure that we practice whenever a student stands accused of misbehavior.” “Then, as I have stated before, you should revise those procedures. They are wholly susceptible to abuse or false alarm, and risk inconveniencing the parties involved.” “We shall take your words into consideration.” “That would be most wise.” He turned to me. “Miss Sweetie Belle, if I may first congratulate you on finally receiving your cutie mark. You are an upstanding young citizen of Ponyville, and I’m certain you have a bright future ahead.” ...That was unexpected. And apparently Diamond agreed, if her snort was any indicator. But I made no note of it as my decorum training kicked in, and I nodded to the stallion. “Thank you kindly, Mister Rich.” “To that end, I truly hope that you do find the culprits involved so that they may be brought to justice. No one deserves to be slighted for their life achievements.” He gave his daughter a pointed glance—she carefully avoided his gaze. “I appreciate your sentiments.” “Be that as it may, however,” he continued, straightening his tie, “I would ask that you please refrain from holding my daughter responsible for your unfortunate circumstances in the future.” He gave a quick look to the Headmaster, then turned back to me again. “I assure you that no good things can come of this.” “I—” “Miss Belle, please remain silent,” interrupted the Headmaster. What the hell? “You haven’t even let me speak—” “Because, as you have so adequately proven, you have nothing of value to contribute. Be silent.” I flinched. Thinking back, I realized something had been communicated in that look she had been given by Mister Rich—enough for her to demand my silence. “Ahem.” All eyes returned to Mister Rich. “If we are finished here, I have important matters to attend to. Please excuse me.” As I sat there, trying to figure out exactly had just happened, he turned to leave. But Cheerilee stood in front of him. “You know this can’t go on forever, Filthy.” “I know not what you mean, Miss Cheerilee. And I prefer ‘Rich’, as you know. Please excuse me.” He stepped past her and swiftly left with his daughter. No. You were not getting away. I quickly stood up. “I’m leaving too. If I may be—” “You may not, Miss Belle,” warned the Headmaster. “Stay here. We still have—” “I'll be back in a minute,” I snarled, quickly losing my patience as Mister Rich’s form receded from view of the doorway. “If my leaving now means you have to punish me more, then you can tell me when I get back. I am leaving.” I walked out the door, barely glancing at Miss Cheerilee, who did not stop me. Good. I trotted down the hallway and turned to my left, quickly enough to see the pair of ponies as they approached the door out of the schoolhouse. “Mister Rich,” I called out. He slowly came to a stop, as did Diamond when she realized her father was no longer following her. As he turned around, I quickly realized that… I had no idea what to say, or even how to feel about this stallion. The entire exchange had happened so quickly that I was left with precious little time to digest its particulars. Why did I chase them out again? What was I hoping to accomplish? What did I want? “Yes, Miss Belle?” he replied, breaking me out of my musing. My mind buzzed with questions, and none of them were adequate enough to precisely communicate how lost I was. So I communicated them all at once. “Why?” For a moment, I could not discern what feelings overcame his face. But without breaking my gaze, he spoke. “Diamond, please go on ahead without me. I shall speak with Miss Belle in private.” “Father, what’s even the point of talking to—” “Go.” His order brooked no response. Sparing me only a repulsed look, she turned and left the building. I was alone in the hallway with Mister Rich. Neither of us moved. Then an apologetic smile overcame his face. “It’s complicated.” Bullshit. “There is nothing complicated about this, Mister Rich,” I retorted, advancing on him and dropping all pretense of decorum. “It doesn’t take a genius to realize that our claims of Diamond's behavior are not unfounded.” He did not respond. I continued undaunted. “In the years that I’ve been forced to be her classmate, I have not had a week of peace. And yet every single time I have tried to call attention to it, nothing happens.” Again, no response—just that same affable smile. His silence was infuriating. Damn it, old stallion. Answer me. “You seem like a fair pony, yet you seem rather set on ignoring your daughter’s behavior, and somehow you have convinced the Headmaster to follow suit.” I was now mere feet away from him. With little left to say, I stared into his eyes, letting my fury, my confusion, and all of my questions seep through my visage, accompanied only by a simple utterance that brought my questions full circle. “Why?” His expression never changed. “It’s complicated.” “It is not complicated!” I nearly shouted. “You’re enabling her bad behavior! Do you realize what she’s becoming? Is this truly what you want for your daughter—?!” His expression turned cold. “What I want for my daughter is none of your business, and you would do well not to pry.” “How dare you! It is absolutely—” “Enough!” he declared. “You have said your piece, and now I shall say mine.” He began walking slowly towards me. “Miss Belle, despite your rather unorthodox choice in personal diversions—” Oooh, you are not making it easy for me to like you, “—you have clearly shaped up to be a remarkable young lady with a bright future. With less than a year left before your graduation, I would very much hate to see you squander such potential by pursuing a fruitless vendetta that will only end in tears.” He closed the remaining distance between us, locking me in his gaze. His expression became severe, and I blanched at the aura of intensity that had suddenly overcome him. “I was not joking when I told you that nothing good can come of this. But for your benefit, I shall reiterate: nothing good can come of this. I must impress that you are encroaching upon very dangerous territory, and you will suffer for it.” His voice was so charged with unwavering conviction that it brooked no doubt, no uncertainty. It spoke as if his word were law. “Contrary to whatever you may feel towards me or my intentions, I would very much not like to see you suffer. So consider this a warning, from stallion to mare.” And he held out a hoof, which I had only just noticed had emerged from within his suit. I looked down and saw a tied brown pouch perched upon the tip. It jingled slightly as he shook it, making its contents very transparent. “And consider this a gesture in good faith that you will keep your silence.” ...Did he just threaten and bribe me at the same time? He dropped the pouch on the floor—clink—and swiftly turned to depart. I said nothing in response—I could barely process what had just happened. But as he made to open the door leading outside, it swung open, revealing an out-of-breath Rarity. “Er, please excuse me—” she quickly muttered. “Miss Rarity,” spoke Mister Rich, interrupting her shock. “Ah, Mister Rich!” she exclaimed, striding in through the open door, a sociable tone overcoming her fluster. “What an unexpected surprise.” “Such is the nature of surprises,” he replied affably. “Though I’m afraid I must be on my way. You may need to attend to your charge. The little miss has had quite a day.” Finally seeing me, Rarity blinked at me, probably wondering what in Sun’s name he knew of my circumstances. “O-of course. Do not let me trouble you.” “It is no trouble. Good day, Miss Rarity.” He departed. We both stared blankly at the door, left open in the wake of his departure. “Sweetie Belle, now would be a very good time to catch me up.” “Sure. It might be a moment though. My brain needs to do the same.” “I worry about what these video games are doing to you.” “I’m your teacher. I’m supposed to protect you.” “Will we have enough to cover our living expenses?” “This isn’t exactly… ladylike behavior.” “We traded fire with the border yesterday.” “I’m sorry, sis. I’m sorry for… everything.” “I’m not quite sure this is what I want for my daughter’s destiny.”