//------------------------------// // Iomaitheoirí // Story: Courts of The Magi // by Airstream //------------------------------// It was promising to be a bitter winter in Starfall, as could be attested by the drifts of snow piling in the forgotten places of the city, the deep alleyways and old cul-de-sacs that saw little traffic, though the main roads and the more commonly used side streets were, for the moment, clear. The sun was in the process of setting, throwing unusual shadows through the air, off of drifting flakes of snow and slate-gray sheets of clouds that lay over the city like a blanket of lead. They had started snowing two days ago, and if anything, they promised to be heavier before dispersing. Starfall’s river had recently frozen, and it was solid enough to run across, though, of course, it wasn’t recommended. From the towers of the Regia, the city of Starfall resembled nothing more than a giant cake, covered in frosting of white and the occasional fleck of color which represented a canopy, or perhaps a particularly enterprising individual who had decided to shovel their roof. The castle itself, by contrast, remained dark and almost grim-looking, the monolithic structure resembling more the mountain it had used to be and less the castle Twilight Sparkle had intended for it to become, all those years ago. The towers, four in all, resembled jagged crests or peaks, and the body of the castle seemed to hunch against the cold, different wings and roofs and domes giving the appearance of a sleeping creature, curled up against the biting wind. The castle had the right idea, thought Twilight Sparkle, its master and the Lady of the Evening Kingdom for four hundred years. It was a fool’s errand to go out on a night like this, save for the greatest of emergencies. Which meant that the brightly colored throngs of ponies threading their way through the front gate of the castle were either foolish or desperate. Twilight leaned towards the former rather than the latter. Still, she had to put on a good face for it all, it being her daughter’s party they were gathering for. Daughter. After sixteen years, the word still felt foreign in Twilight’s mouth and ears. Her daughter, who had been the light of her life for the better part of two decades, and who until recently seemed to be nothing more than another mortal, to be loved and then lost and mourned when the time grew right, though Twilight felt that she would grieve far more when she was gone than she had at the funerals of certain friends or family members. Another pony, though a precious one. Nothing more. And then Serale Harmonia Everstar, after sixteen years of magical inactivity and resigning herself to the fact that she would be no more magical than the stone from which the castle was hewn, had been attacked by a lich of no small power by the name of Nightshade. The resulting fight, if it could even be called that, had resulted in one (temporarily) annihilated lich, a heavily damaged arena, and about two thousand dead and wounded ponies, though those were largely a product of the explosion caused when the lich forced her way into the arena, apparently intent on killing a member of the powerful Hedera family. The fight had also resulted in the shifting of ley lines, which had resulted in the current abominable weather. There was a gentle tap on the door to her study, and Twilight Everstar straightened from her window, turned, and called “Come.” The door opened with a creak, revealing Turquoise, one of Twilight’s most faithful servants. She also happened to be a Changeling, but Twilight no longer discriminated. Currently, the insectile creature was wearing her favored form, that of a snow-white pegasus with blue eyes. She bowed respectfully before speaking in a high, reedy alto voice. “The guests have begun to arrive, my Lady. Did you wish to greet them yourself, or shall I wear your form for you?” she said, her last words gently teasing. Though the Changeling would do so in a heartbeat, Lady Everstar had never asked of her to wear a form she did not wish to use, and never asked any other Changeling to impersonate her or a member of her House, as some nobles did. Lady Everstar smiled, and her horn burned with purple fire, causing a dress of fine black velvet to drape itself over her regal form, pleasant to behold but hardened by battle and exercise. Lady Everstar occasionally sparred with the Guards she employed, and while none of them held back as per her orders, the Lady held a record of fifty-two and twelve in single combat without magic. She was also deadly accurate with a rifle and her swordplay was legendary among the ranks of the Duelist’s College, where she occasionally tutored. The dress itself was slashed through with gold, falling elegantly along her flanks to the floor and reaching up her neck in a high and tight collar. Upon her head rested a crown of bronze, decorated with images of dragons and fire and stars, her personal emblems. Many had speculated about whether or not that crown would one day pass to her daughter, and so far as the public knew, there had not been confirmation one way or the other. As Turquoise watched, Lady Everstar’s hair fashioned itself into a simple braid, lying draped over one shoulder. She glanced at herself in the mirror, tucking a stray strand of her mane behind one ear, and took a deep breath, a moment of uncertainty that she showed to only a very few, and nodded. “Very well,” she said, “Lead on.” “I look ridiculous,” Cobblestone said, looking at herself in the mirror. I agree, said the black tomcat that rested on her bed. But then, so does every other pony in this hall tonight. Out of all of them, I suppose you look the least ridiculous. “Was that a complement or an insult?” Cobblestone wondered aloud. Yes. She glared at Hob before turning her attention back to herself. The dress she was wearing, the blue one, was hanging all wrong; bunching up near the sleeves and hanging loose near the chest, mostly due to the fact that she couldn’t get the laces done correctly. Her mane, while simple enough, had come loose from the bun in a few areas, and she dreaded the thought of putting makeup on. Reluctantly, she gave another halfhearted tug on the laces of the dress, suppressing a wince of pain as she did so. Her horn wasn’t working properly as of yet, magic only coming in fits and starts, though she was improving with every passing day. It certainly wasn’t precise enough yet to handle something as delicate as tying silk ribbons, which means the process had to be done by hoof. Except she couldn’t do it by hoof, because every time she raised one higher than her shoulder, crippling pain shot through her forelegs, chest, and back, bolts of fire that reminded her uncomfortably of the black flame she had recently become much too familiar with. Mobility was improving, but it was still slow, far too slow. Something inside of her snapped, and Cobblestone came to a conclusion. “Right,” she said, “To Tartarus with the dress. Where are my robes?” Right side of the wardrobe, Hob said, giving a lazy twitch of his ear. Do be careful, I don’t want to have to call a servant to come and get the wardrobe off of you again. “I was fine,” Cobblestone snarled as she limped over to the wardrobe, ignoring the pain. “And I was easily able to get the wardrobe off, too. It was one time.” Most ponies probably never have to pry a wardrobe off of themselves, let alone one big enough to require assistance, Hob mused. How special you must feel. “Keep it up and I’ll lock you in this wardrobe before I go,” Cobblestone warned as she pulled out the simple black robes, for now without adornment. I would look at it as a sign of strength, Hob continued. Even maimed as you are, you had power enough to pull down an entire wardrobe. “Hob!” Cobblestone said sharply, pulling the robes over her body with some difficulty, though not nearly as much as the dress had been. Something about the robes seemed to respond to magical manipulation, at least when it came to donning and doffing them. “That’s enough!” There was a pause. My apologies, Mistress, Hob said, sounding recalcitrant. I meant merely to tease, not to offend. Cobblestone had gotten to know the cat well enough in the two weeks she was bedridden to realize he really was sorry. He wouldn’t have called her “Mistress” otherwise. Wish a single practiced motion, Cobblestone re-coiled her hair, winding it into a tight bun before sticking pins in it, ensuring it wouldn’t move. She focused briefly, harder than she had before, and her horn flashed a bright blue, a few shades shy of teal. She felt the hair stick in place, the adhesive spell working as it should. It would wear off in a few hours, but that was all she would need, and the unnatural sheen it gave her mane would be hidden by her hat, pointed and wide-brimmed. Cinching the belt tight and placing the hat firmly on her head, she looked over to the mirror. The mare staring back seemed to be costumed well enough to hide the fact that she had been recovering from serious injuries. The off-white of her coat, once resembling dirt, now resembled heavy cream and glowed with health, framing the brown of her eyes, which only the most astute observer would notice never really lingered in the same place for long, always questing for an exit, a potential threat, or an easy mark. An old habit dies hard. Her mane, once ratty and tangled and matted with dirt and other detritus, had gained a color halfway between chestnut and copper, and when loose, it fell in waves stopping just short of curls. Standing erect, she was a striking figure, if not exactly pretty in the conventional sense, but she was tired and sore. Much better, Hob said, approval in his voice. You look like one that commands respect in her peers, as you should. “I doubt I’ll get much respect until I earn the right to put runes on this thing,” Cobblestone said, “But I agree that it’ll work for tonight.” Don’t forget the vial on the dresser, Hob said helpfully. You don’t want to lose control tonight. Cobblestone limped to the dresser, uncorking the small glass container and downing the entire thing in one go. Inside was a small mixture of painkillers, stimulants, and a potion by the name of Dragon’s Kiss, normally an addictive drug, but in this case the only thing that prevented her from lighting her bed on fire as she slept. Libra had brought it to her earlier with the admonishment that she not use it until she was ready to come down for the party, as the effects of the painkillers would only last for a few hours at best. The effect was immediate. Cobblestone straightened, feeling the pain leave her, if not the stiffness, and her mind cleared. For a brief moment, she could see brightly colored flames floating through the air, but the visions faded in less than a minute, leaving her feeing clear-headed and optimistic. Much better, she thought, and with Hob by her side, she trotted out of the door of her room, heading down for the party. Vino shifted uncomfortably in his dress uniform, the pressed purple wool lying stiff against the gray of his coat and the starched breeches standing rigidly against the wind, creases unbroken until they met the shiny leather boots he wore. The knight’s crest he wore on his epaulets gleamed in the late evening light, as well as the one on the front of his rounded officer’s hat, buckled above his lip. His first medal, a Commendation For Gallantry In The Line Of Duty, commonly known as a Duty Star, glinted on his left breast, attracting a few approving nods from the passing officers he was greeting at the door along with the rest of the guests. He’d be joining them later, once the gates had closed for the night, and was dreading every minute of the conversations he’d be dragged into once he entered the hall. “Cheer up, lad!” the red-bearded unicorn beside him said, brushing a bit of snow from the green of his Ranger’s dress coat, cheerfully ignoring the rest that was slowly soaking into his black beret. His awards were considerably more numerous than Vino’s own, though he wore them with a bit of discomfort. He clearly wasn’t used to the dress uniform. “It’s only a party, not enemy action!” “I’d almost prefer the enemy action,” Vino said, his teeth bared in an approximation of a grin as he bowed his head to a passing viscount, the black of his mane whipping in a sudden gust of wind. “I hate this uniform, and I hate public events like this one. I always have.” “Seems you’d be used to them, being a Hedera and all,” Afi said, not seeming to notice that the driving snow was freezing his beard together. Afi Refrsson, a Ranger recently stationed far to the north, was more than comfortable in the outdoors, and had faced far colder winters than this one, winters that built up in the great mountains of Northern Equestria and then raced down the wide and endless plains of the north to slam into the Everfree with force enough to strip the leaves from the trees overnight and freeze smaller animals into their burrows. The Equestrian government denied that its weather pegasi had anything to do with it, but it yearly reeked of magical interference. “Well, I’m not,” Vino said, shivering a bit and wondering whether he shouldn’t have brought the heavy woolen overcoat that was part of his winter gear. Doing so had seemed like being over prepared earlier, but now he regretted not having the heavy warmth of the garment with him. “That’s always fallen to my sisters. They love gatherings like this, it gives them a chance to socialize and show off.” “Will they be arriving soon?” a new voice asked. Seeming to materialize out of nowhere, an imposing figure resolved itself into the Gryphon known as Ahan, his characteristic polearm slung across his back. A few of the assorted guests did a double take. Gryphons often traveled through the Evening Kingdom freely, but they were rare this far north unless attached to a caravan, and even then, they acted as free agents. Ahan wore a specially made uniform, identical to Vino’s own, marking him as a captain in the Evening Guard. “They’re probably already inside,” Vino said, shifting his weight in order to stave off sore hooves for a while longer. “Aura too. She had business in Court today, so I imagine she simply ordered a change of clothes be brought and dressed herself here.” “Awfully informal of her,” Afi mused, bowing his head quickly as a fellow Ranger passed, though this one had the doughy look of a long career behind a desk. Vino nodded thoughtfully. “She looks at these things more like business meetings than anything else. A chance to make allies and find out about her rivals.” “A prudent practice,” Ahan said. “It has surely helped your House gain and keep the power it has today.” Vino chose to say nothing, instead opting to greet a young couple, a knight and lady who had stars in their eyes. Newlyweds, he wagered. “I came to inform you that you are relieved of your post here,” Ahan said. “You may return to the ballroom and enjoy yourself for the evening. The last of the guests are arriving, anyway.” Vino felt his heart sink. “Joy,” he said. It sounded like he rather meant the opposite. “And then what happened?” the mare in the pink dress asked, leaning in close. Vino felt his cheeks flush as he caught a whiff of her perfume, smelling overwhelmingly of flowers, specifically overripe roses. She batted her eyelashes. “It must have been terrifying!” Vino took a sip of his wine, trying to clear the abominable dryness in his throat. “Well,” he said, trying not to meet the eyes of the small crowd of ponies who had managed to corner him against the buffet table, officers and young ladies among them, “I did what we were trained to do under Sir Ironhide. The other fighters and myself formed a line and worked together to keep the dead back until we could find a way to dispose of them for good.” “Holding the line,” a major with a bristling mustache barked, clapping him on the shoulder with enough force Vino almost dropped his goblet. He could smell the whiskey on the pegasus’s breath, and felt the officer steady himself on his shoulder. How he was drunk not an hour into the party, Vino hadn’t the slightest clue. “Textbook defensive action. Good lad. Why, I remember a campaign down south…” “But how did you beat them?” another mare interrupted, this one wearing the decorated robes of a scholar at the Royal Archives. She peered at him through her pince-nez, horn flashing as she scribbled notes on a pad of paper Vino was sure she couldn’t have secreted anywhere on her person. “I read that revenants are powerful undead.” “Um,” he said. “We didn’t really do anything to them. One of the fighters knew some magic, and she used it to…well, she set them on fire. They folded pretty quickly after that.” “The Cambia?” the mare in pink asked, pressing closer to him. “The one they call Mace? What’s she like? What’s her real name?” Vino managed to extricate himself from in between the drunken major and the overpoweringly perfumed mare, taking another drink as he did so. “Yes, it was her,” he said. “I didn’t catch her name, but we meet tomorrow to discuss the captaincies, so I’m sure I’ll see her then. She prefers her privacy.” “Yes, but…” “Pardon me,” a smooth and commanding voice said, “But I would like to speak with my son.” The crowd turned to see who had spoken, and parted to reveal a mare, clad in a simple red dress which lay tight against her, her golden mane and icy blue eyes framing a face that still held the beauty it had when she was a younger mare. A small smile revealed no teeth, but there was something very predatory about it to those who knew her well, those numbering very few. This was not a mare who commanded respect, but simply expected it to be there, like the ground beneath her hooves or the air she breathed, its lack not even considered as a possibility. Aura Hedera had not specified that she wanted to talk alone, but the crowd dispersed in moments, leaving the two of them to enjoy some privacy. Vino wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or frightened by Aura’s presence. “You were doing well,” she said, “At least until the very end there. Polite, engaging enough, and your shyness is surely a bit endearing to the young mares in the group. The Star looks nice, by the way.” “Thank you for stepping in,” Vino said dutifully. “They insisted I wear this.” “Decorations are part of the uniform, Vino,” Aura said, sipping from her goblet. Vino went to do the same, noticing his was empty. He’d downed two during his interrogation, and dinner hadn’t even been served yet. Any more and he’d begin to sway on his hooves. Vino considered this fact, shrugged, and picked up another from the table behind him, leaving the empty one in its place. It filled up again, seemingly on its own. “It’s still uncomfortable having to answer all of the questions. I did my job, nothing more.” “Considering that I might very well be dead if you hadn’t,” Aura said contemplatively, “I’m of the mind that it was more than your duty.” “It was just as much to save my skin as yours,” Vino replied, perhaps a touch moodily. “And that makes the act any less noble?” Aura asked. “I’m trying to thank you, Vino. We haven’t seen one another since right after the arena, please let’s not fight.” Vino thought about it, and took the olive branch. “If it means that much to you,” he said slowly, “Then you are welcome. How have you been, Aura?” She laughed bitterly. “About as well as could be expected. I have been reviewing my actions for the past few years, trying to discover what could have attracted the attention of a necromancer. Especially one who tried to kill me with the young Lady sitting nearly adjacent to me. While I have cleared up a few discrepancies with old accounts, I’ve found nothing. The work…the work keeps me busy, keeps me from thinking about the attack. How about yourself?” “I’ve been busy filling out the paperwork for transfer to Serale’s personal guard,” Vino said. “There’s more than you’d think there would be. And then there’s been practice, meetings with a few of the other captains, the awards ceremony…I’ve kept busy for the past few weeks. The first official meeting of the captains will be tomorrow. We’ll choose a leader and meet the mages we’ll be working with. The soldiers under us will come the next day. They should have all arrived by tonight, actually. They’ll know one another before me.” “Will you have time to make it home for Hearth’s Warming?” Aura asked curiously. “I know there’s much to do before you leave, but Grappa and Fern miss you terribly.” Vino thought. “We leave the day after the Solstice,” he said. “Enough time to spend the holiday here, though not much time afterwards. I should be ready by then.” Lady Hedera smiled. “Good,” she said, “I’m glad. It’s been a while since you’ve been home.” She drained her goblet before grabbing another. “If you want to stay away from crowds,” she said thoughtfully, “Might I recommend the back right corner? It’s near the servant’s entrance, so you should be safe from more than two or three ponies demanding to hear the life story of the colt who helped save the Lady.” “Not that she needed saving,” Vino replied with a smile. “But thank you. Do you need to go?” “I’m afraid I see Lord Bluehide over by the promenade,” Aura said. “If I leave him alone for too long, he’ll start talking to riverboat captains again, which doesn’t bode well. Enjoy the party, son.” “And you, Aura,” Vino said. He watched her go for a moment, a shark clad in red among a pond of fish, and decided that the far corner was exactly where he wanted to be right now. Cobblestone was grateful she had chosen the robes to wear, even if they were unmarked. There was simply no way she could have matched the level of preparation most mares here had achieved, no doubt with the help of servants of their own, and though they were few, she could spot a few other ponies like herself, clad in black. Some of them had robes like hers, mostly black, but all of them seemed to have at least one rune. “I feel underdressed,” she murmured. Compared to the rest of these peacocks? Hob scoffed, tail flicking lazily. You look fine. None of them have even noticed you. “Thank the stars for small blessings,” she said. Reaching for a small piece of cheese from her plate, she surreptitiously dropped it to the ground, where Hob set upon it with gusto. He seemed to be perpetually hungry, though he hardly ever complained of it unless he was bored. “And me with a wonderful conversationalist. I might make it through this in one piece.” You spoke too soon, Hob said. Interlopers approach. He was, as usual, right about the company. Two unicorn mares, younger than her by a few years and identical in nearly every way, had sidled through the crowd and looked intent on speaking with her. One, a mare in a light blue dress, whispered to the mare that had to be her sister, in green, and both of them giggled before she met Cobblestone’s eyes and smiled at her. “Hello,” she said kindly, “I’m Fern, and this is Grappa.” “Cobblestone,” she returned, noting the good stitching of their dresses and the quality of their jewelry, along with the delicate way they held themselves. Obviously wealthy, and very used to it. They would have been prime marks for the stupid and desperate back on the streets of Crescent City, able to afford the best in protective spells. “This is Hob,” she said, indicating the black cat. “Aww,” cooed Grappa, kneeling to look at him more closely. “He’s so cute!” “Careful,” Cobblestone cautioned, “He’s not exactly friendly.” It was at this point that Hob flopped onto his back, exposing the soft fur of his belly as he began to purr softly. Cobblestone glared at him. Really? I like the attention, Hob claimed. Children their age know how to handle cats. You’re not a cat, Cobblestone thought back viciously. “We noticed you standing over here alone,” Fern said as Grappa began to rub Hob’s belly. Hob purred louder. “Are you a new apprentice? You’re awfully old to just be starting.” “Mama says we’re going to be starting next year, when she can find a tutor,” Grappa said absently. “One who will teach us together.” “Well,” Cobblestone said uncertainly, “That’s nice. You’ll be working together, then?” Fern frowned. “No,” she said. “Apprenticeships among mages are more like rivalries. Nothing dangerous, but still really competitive.” “I’m the better spellcaster,” Grappa said with a smile. “I learned magic first, too.” Fern stamped a hoof. “But I’m better at potions and enchanting and just about all the book stuff!” she said. “So there!” “I’m surprised you didn’t know all of this,” Grappa said, straightening up from petting Hob, who seemed put out. “Whoever you’re apprenticed with is going to be competing with you, so you’d better keep an eye out.” “Well, Magus Libra and I haven’t really had much time to talk about apprenticeship stuff,” Cobblestone said shamefacedly, realizing how inexperienced she must sound. Fern’s ice blue eyes lit up. “You’re that Cobblestone?” she asked excitedly. “Cobblestone of Crescent City?” “Everypony who’s anypony has been talking about you,” Grappa said, straightening the front of her gown and brushing a strand of golden mane out of her eyes. “You’re the first apprentice Magus Libra has taken in nearly twenty years.” Cobblestone felt like she’d been hit by a freight train. “You mean she had an apprentice before?” she asked. “I never knew that.” “Yeah!” Fern exclaimed. “Ponies still talk about it. She’s kind of infamous for it.” “What do you mean?” Cobblestone asked. “What happened?” “One of her last two apprentices died,” Grappa said. “He lost control of a spell and blew himself up right before he was set to become a full-fledged mage.” “Her other apprentice still won’t speak to her,” Fern said. “I heard that…” Before she could say any more, however, there came the sound of a horn, mellow and filling the room with its brassy tone. All conversation ceased, and every head turned to the dais, upon which rested a single throne carved of wood and bronze, inlaid with a single silver star. With a roar of purple flame, the empty dais became occupied with a single pony, dressed in black and wearing a crown of bronze, perched upon her brow like a wreath of fire. Every pony in the hall kneeled in respect, Cobblestone following suit. Even Hob had rolled back over, sitting up attentively. “Mares and gentlecolts,” Lady Everstar announced, her voice ringing authoritatively out over their heads like a judgement, “I thank you for attending this, the ceremony honoring not only my daughter’s birth, but her decision to commit herself to the cause of peace among nations. In two weeks’ time, she will depart our fair Kingdom for the lands belonging to the Avatar of Dawn, Princess Cadance.” “Lucky,” Cobblestone heard Fern mutter. “For now, though, we celebrate Serale and her life. Tonight is a celebration of birth, of choices made and lessons learned and growth, renewal, and so much more.” A goblet appeared in her hoof, and she raised it. “To Serale!” she cried. The ponies rose as one, brandishing goblets and plates of food. “To Serale!” they roared. It was at this that there was another flash of light, and another mare appeared, this one gray of coat and blonde of mane, a horn clear as crystal protruding from her head. The blue of her dress, deep and still like a silent pond, hung well upon her, as befitted a Lady in the house of Everstar. Warm purple eyes swept over the assemblage, and though it looked like she might topple for a moment, she drew herself together and smiled. Serale Everstar stood upon the dais, looking out over the crowd. Serale’s head spun for a moment, the effects of the spell still lingering, and sparks danced beneath her skin. Two hundred ponies, clad in robes and formal attire and uniforms, stared back at her expectantly. The words she had so carefully chosen seemed to have gotten lost in the teleportation spell, and were presumably wandering around in the Aether, looking for her just as frantically as she was for them. Deciding that they would be late to the party, she opened her mouth and started improvising. “Friends,” she began, “Friends new and old. Thank you for coming, despite the cold and weather. I can’t express how much this means to me. It is good to see so many familiar faces after the year I spent traveling abroad, and I am filled with regret that I will not see some of you for another year yet, after I depart.” “But tonight is not the night for that!” she exclaimed, smiling. “You’re here, enjoying one another’s company, and that is all I need to see from you! My heart is filled with gladness, and I cannot wait to speak with those of you who wish to speak. Enjoy the meal, enjoy the drink, and most of all, enjoy yourselves!” These last words were met with a hearty cheer and healthy applause, as ponies began once more to speak with one another. She let out a sigh of relief. “A bit over the top,” her mother said, “But well-meaning. You forgot what you were going to say?” “Completely,” Serale confirmed, meeting her mother’s eye. As soon as she said that, her prepared speech presented itself sheepishly, apologizing for its lateness. She ignored it, focusing instead on the mare in front of her. “It didn’t look too bad?” Twilight smiled. “You could have fooled me,” she confirmed. “How are you feeling?” “A little stiff,” Serale admitted. She’d needed her skin repaired after the frostbite had done its work, a danger, apparently, of working with gelid ley lines. “But I’ll manage.” “If you need to retire,” Lady Everstar said, “Merely alert a servant. They’ll contact me, and we’ll get you to bed. You don’t want to strain yourself so soon.” Serale rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine, mother,” she said. “But thank you.” “And no magic,” Twilight warned her, holding up a warning hoof. “Not yet. I know how impatient you are, but wait a little while longer. I have no desire to fashion a new roof for the ballroom.” Serale sighed. “Of course, Mother. I don’t think I could manage it, anyway.” Twilight’s eyes sparkled. “Go,” she said. “Mingle. Seek out friends or whomever you wish. I’m sure many ponies want to speak with you.” “What about you?” Serale asked. “I’ll be fine,” Twilight said. “Libra’s on the way with my gift and hers. It’s your party, go and enjoy it.” Cobblestone silently thanked Serale for finally descending the dais, drawing Fern and Grappa’s attention away from her. She thought they meant well, but they had proven unwilling to speak more about Libra’s apprentice, instead pestering her with questions about her life as a thief. Grappa had wanted to know if she had ever killed anypony, a question she found both ghoulish and difficult to answer. Silently, she made her way along the back wall of the ballroom, using every trick she knew to hide in plain sight from any pony who looked remotely interested in talking with her. A corner near the back looked more or less deserted, so she plotted a course. It was far away from the dais, meaning Serale probably wouldn’t find her, but Cobblestone didn’t particularly want to attract attention to herself by getting near the guest of honor. “You’re escaping, too?” a pleasant baritone voice said, and Cobblestone turned to see who was speaking. A colt with a gray coat and black mane, in a sharply pressed uniform, watched her, amused. “I don’t blame you. These gatherings can get a bit…” “Hectic?” Cobblestone completed. “I was going to say ‘completely insane’, but I suppose that works,” he said.” He peered at her, her face half-obscured by the brim of her hat. “Hold on. Don’t I know you?” Now that he mentioned it, Cobblestone thought he looked familiar. “From the dinner!” they both exclaimed at the same time. He grinned. “Vino Hedera,” he said by way of reintroduction. “Cobblestone,” she said, offering a hoof. He reached to bow over it, but she grabbed his hoof instead, giving it a firm shake. “Don’t bother with the bowing,” she said. “I’m no lady.” Vino raised an eyebrow. “So I see,” he said. “You’re an apprentice mage? A new one, too.” Cobblestone nodded. “Apparently blank robes are a conversation piece,” she said. “I just got finished talking to two fillies who wanted to know all about me. Twins.” Vino grinned. “Blonde hair and blue eyes?” he asked. “One a gossip and one who immediately wanted to pet your cat?” Cobblestone’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know them. Friends of yours?” “Stepsisters,” Vino said. “Grappa and Fern are my father’s children by my stepmother.” “Let me guess,” Cobblestone said. “Your mother is Lady Hedera?” Vino grinned ruefully. “Got it in one. I take it you met her? She can be a bit…intimidating.” He doesn’t know the half of it, Hob commented. Hush, Cobblestone thought back. “We’ve met before. I was sitting next to her in the box at the…well, you were there.” Vino’s grin vanished. “That was you?” he asked. “The one who held off the necromancer while Lady Serale finished her off?” “Not one of my better ideas,” Cobblestone said, remembering phantom flames on her skin. “But yes. That’s why I’m avoiding ponies, so I don’t have to answer questions about it.” “You’re doing a bang up job,” Vino said. “Does that cat keep you good company?” “Hob?” Cobblestone asked. “He’s a bit of a pain, but I like having him around.” “He’s remarkably well behaved, for a cat,” Vino remarked, leaning in to inspect him. Hob responded with a low growl, the hair on his back beginning to stand up. Vino backed away. “I don’t have my stepsister’s way with animals,” he remarked. “She’s the first one I’ve seen him do more than tolerate,” Cobblestone said. If you wanted to rub my belly, Hob said, All you had to do was ask. And you’d have said yes? Cobblestone asked. Of course not. “It’s strange,” Vino said. “I’m not normally this comfortable chatting with complete strangers.” Cobblestone nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s like we’ve known each other for years, isn’t it?” “I don’t mind,” Vino said. “Here, let’s do this. You talk about anything other than how I got this damned medal, and I’ll talk about anything except that apprenticeship and the necromancer.” “It’s like you read my mind,” Cobblestone said with a smile. Serale was beginning to regret exiting the dais. She had thought she was prepared for the crowds, even after the incident in the arena, but the questions came without end, some different, but the majority were depressingly similar. How did you call on the ley lines? Is that why you can’t use magic in public? What was it like facing down the necromancer? Are you sure you want to go visit the other Courts? Are you scared of Celestia? Did you really lose control of your magic, or was it the necromancer who caused the explosion? That last one she found particularly galling, and it hadn’t even been her facing Nightshade, at least not until the very end, anyway. And of course she was terrified of Celestia, but she wouldn’t show it. She composed herself, answered the questions to the best of her ability and in a pleasant manner, and played the role of the gracious host. At least, until one unfortunate baron asked a question he probably should not have. “Is it true, Lady Serale, that the mare keeping you company in the box was nothing more than a common thief? I’d thought she was in a jail, where she belongs.” The question caught her off guard, and was considerably more rude than it needed to be, but that was certainly no excuse for what happened next. “Well, Lord Horatio,” she said, her smile dangerously sweet and her voice calm and measured, “They say you can judge a mare by the company she keeps.” She could feel the ponies around her stiffening as she leaned forward perhaps a bit more than was necessary, her smile growing to show a few more teeth than was entirely appropriate. “So I am now asking myself why I am not speaking to the mare that saved my life and the lives of countless others and am instead speaking to you, you pestilent, pompous, pox-ridden prat. Cobblestone, in the course of a month, showed me more loyalty and strength of character than I have seen from you or yours in a lifetime, and aside from being a good friend of mine, it is thanks to her timely intervention that I am currently standing here wasting my breath on you.” Lord Horatio had turned a curious mix of mottled pink and white, spluttering around the red fuzz he claimed was a mustache, as Serale continued to dismantle him in front of his peers, keeping a pleasant tone while she did so. “As for your question about her criminal past and incarceration, they are both true, though she as a thief held more honor and drive than I could see in five of you, and was ten times more useful. Suffice it to say, Lord Horatio, that should you attempt to once again slander her and I hear word of it, I shall renew my mother’s old practice of allowing duels between citizens, and offer her the chance to claim satisfaction. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Lord Horatio had now turned a curious shade of green at the thought of a duel with what he surely imagined to be a terrifying mare with a propensity for knives, as he nodded shakily. “Good!” Serale chirped cheerfully. “Please, have a good night, Lord Horatio. Enjoy the party!” She watched as the rotund stallion staggered away as if he had been beaten around the head, feeling an immense sense of satisfaction as she did so. She turned to the surrounding ponies, who all appeared to be holding their breaths. “Are there any more questions about my friend that I can address?” she asked brightly. None appeared to be forthcoming. “Alright then!” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I could use a drink.” Before she could get to the table, however, the horn sounded once again. She cursed silently, making her way back to the dais. Ascending the stairs, she took her place by her mother’s side and waited for other ponies to settle down. “Was castigating Lord Horatio really necessary?” her mother asked, not entirely disapprovingly. “I’ve always thought him a bit pompous, but you didn’t need to take all the wind out of his sails.” “It’s my party,” Serale said quietly, “And I’ll do as I damned well please.” Twilight looked at her, a bit discomfited. Serale had always had a bit of a temper, but what she had just seen was something else entirely, and more than a little savage. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked. “Actually,” Serale said as the last ponies settled down, “I haven’t felt this good in weeks.” “Assembled guests!” Lady Twilight said brightly, fixing a smile to her face. “It is now time to present my daughter with her gifts!” Serale stood and smiled, pushing the wild exultation she felt back down. Something about it was very unusual, and this was not the right place to let it roam free. She focused her eyes on the pile of potential gifts on the low table in the back, most of which were to be opened after guests had left the party. The ones from family, however, were to be presented with all in attendance there to witness. It had been a strange mixture of embarrassing and exciting for her when she was little, doubly so because she could not use magic and avoided the public eye as much as she could, but for the first time, she no longer felt that fear. Her mother focused, her horn lighting up, and Serale felt a small pang of jealousy that she could not use her powers here. The thought fled her mind as, with a flash, a pendant appeared in the air. Serale’s eyes widened. Suspended in a disk of bronze was a diamond, flawlessly cut and shimmering with the colors of the rainbow. Etched into the disk were what must have been a thousand runes, forming intricate lines and geometric shapes that flowed into one another seamlessly. It was a work of breathtaking intricacy and skill, beyond priceless. Serale knew without doubt that this was her mother’s personal work. “Serale has only ever shown her power once, and then only to protect the lives of those around her. But her power is the power of the ley, and that cannot be easily controlled. This is more than a simple trinket.” The pendant fit over her neck, and Serale felt a strange tugging sensation, as if something was being drawn from her. The pendant pressed hard against her chest, before the sensation vanished and it hung loose, as it should. “Try to use your magic,” her mother suggested in a low tone, winking. Serale’s heart raced, and she cast about for something to grab. Seeing a cup on the table of drinks, she reached for it instinctively. Her horn flared into brilliant green light, and the ponies in front of her flinched, fearful of what would happen next. The goblet rose into the air, soaring gracefully above the crowd, wobbling only a little in her excitement. Reaching out with one hoof, she grabbed it and took a sip. “This is my gift to you, Serale,” her mother said. “Control, until you can learn it yourself.” Serale’s eyes welled with tears as she set the cup down and, decorum forgotten, threw her hooves around her mother’s neck in an embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered as ponies began to applaud. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” “Don’t thank me yet,” her mother muttered back, “There’s more.” Serale pulled away, confused. “More?” she asked. Twilight held up a hoof to the crowd. “I fear you were all deceived in your reason for coming here tonight,” she said with a grin. “This celebration is not for Serale’s birthday and decision to act as diplomat.” There were confused murmurs and sideways glances from the crowd. Serale looked at her mother, confused. Thoughts of crossbow bolts and massacred nobles filled her mind, unbidden. Twilight stepped back, and with a pop, Magus Libra appeared, holding a parcel in her magical grip, wearing her robes of office. Embroidered with runes in silver, and wearing a stole of blue and a belted sword, the only guest allowed to go armed, she cut an imposing figure, and the crowd soon hushed, though perhaps not as swiftly as they had for Lady Everstar. “Serale needs to learn control,” Libra said. “Throughout the years I have coached her, helped her to awaken her dormant abilities.” This was technically true, though Libra neglected to mention that her coaching had yielded depressingly little. “After seeing the great potential Serale has, I have agreed, at the behest of my Lady, to offer her the opportunity to apprentice under me.” Libra turned to her, the wrappings of the bundle falling away to reveal a set of familiar-looking black robes. “Serale Everstar, will you accept a position as my apprentice?” Libra asked with a smile on her face. Serale stood stunned, rooted to the spot as though her legs had turned to stone. She thought for a moment she might faint. She opened her mouth, words failing her for the second time that evening. What came out was considerably less eloquent than she might have wanted. “Yes,” she croaked. “Yes, I will.” Libra beamed at her, and the crowd erupted into applause once more as the robes lifted themselves into the air, settling over her in billows of black. Serale grinned, suddenly able to move once more, and stepped forward to embrace the mare who was both her oldest friend, and now, her teacher. Cobblestone stood, stunned, as the robes wrapped themselves around Serale. She knew she should feel happy for her, but all she could think of, all she could hear, was Fern’s voice. Apprenticeships among mages are more like rivalries. And then, in Grappa’s voice, One of her last two apprentices died.