Courts of The Magi

by Airstream


Go n eiri an bothar leat!

“Do you think it’s going to be safe getting Lady Serale to the airship field from here?” Vino asked Captain Fidelis, looking down from the parapets of the Regia to the streets below. Below him, several loose throngs of ponies gathered near the castle gates, voices raised and their hooves holding signs, demanding that the daughter of Lady Everstar be tried for her role in the massacre at the arena.

“I’ve put in a request for another two platoons of Guards to get us out of the gate, and we should be rendezvousing with regular Army types once we’re clear of the castle proper,” Fidelis replied. “Speaking of Guards, shouldn’t you be getting yours ready?”

Vino snorted. “I’ve been running them hard the past week,” he said. “They’ve been packed and ready to go since four this morning.”

“That can’t have made you many friends,” Fidelis mused, scratching his chin. A gust of wind caught the pepper-gray of his mane, and he shivered. “You’ve been careful to make them realize you’re not doing it out of any sort of malice?”

Vino thought about it. The last week had been a hard one, both for him and his ponies. They’d been pushed hard, up before dawn and stumbling back in from practice after dark. He’d drilled them again and again on what they’d need to be learning, and they were beginning to show signs of working together as a team. As he had gotten to know them, he’d realized exactly what kind of group they were. In each other, his Guards recognized kindred spirits, a kind of familiarity, not particularly well-suited for Army life, but determined to make the best of it.

“Fireball and Pillar both show signs of becoming good NCOs,” Vino said slowly. “But Fireball’s too impulsive and Pillar’s young. There’s the making of a good sergeant in him, but he’s too inexperienced. I’ve had to run the group as less of a captain and as more of a sergeant, more hooves-on than I’d like. I hope that came across as having their best interests at heart.”

“You’re the one who busted Fireball back down to corporal,” Fidelis replied. “Do you regret the decision?”

“Not for a moment,” Vino replied. “She’d gotten it too early anyway. Did you know she’s been in the service less than three years? She should have been in the scouts or the Rangers, not the regular Army, let alone the Guard.”

“I happen to agree,” Fidelis said. “She’s a good soldier, Vino. A good head on her shoulders, handy with a weapon, but not much for keeping the chain of command. If she learns that, she’ll be a damn good non-commissioned officer.”

“The rest aren’t much to complain about,” Vino said. “Privates Moon and Goldenrod haven’t been enjoying the physical training. Apparently their last assignment was garrison duty, and their commander was lax about keeping his Guards in shape. I’ve had to discipline Goldenrod more than once, but he’s learning.”

There was a roar from the crowd below the walls, as what appeared to be a ringleader began to exhort the protesters into a greater frenzy. Though the words were lost on the wind, it was apparent to any observer what the general mood outside was. But for all the noise and anger, there was no move towards the gates of the castle, nor any action against the officers of the law who were keeping an eye on the protest. Vino felt an odd stirring of pride at that.

“That’s the difference between us and those Equestrian types,” Fidelis said. “Remember that when we head out, captain. Ours might not be a perfect society, but it belongs to the common pony. Equestria’s a manufactured paradise, and the only reason you’ll not see dissent there is because they’ve gotten very good at stamping it out. Have you ever been to Equestria proper?”

Vino shook his head. “I’ve been meaning to go,” he said. “Before getting this assignment, I considered taking a visit to some of the Hedera lands around Appleoosa or High Hoof. It never panned out.”

“Be careful,” Fidelis replied. “Equestria isn’t exactly what it appears to be, and Celestia hasn’t forgotten or forgiven the drubbing Lady Everstar gave her way back when, never mind we’ve got her on the back hoof now. Ask Afi sometime about his time on the borders. It may be peacetime now, but sometimes you start to wonder.” He took a breath of winter air, and narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you find your ponies,” he said. “We leave in an hour.”

Vino nodded and began the walk back to the gatehouse as the great clock out in the city began its chime of the eleventh hour of the morning.


“Let’s go!” Kore snarled, the limp black of her mane clinging to her face in the wind, mouth contorted in a snarl far more twisted than would normally be given by her scar. “If any one of you worthless maggots holds us up on our way out, I will personally ensure you are pulling the damn airship to Dawndale!”

The ten ponies under her command, looking miserable as only enlistees could be, scrambled to get their packs and kit organized. Normally, they would be traveling much lighter, but there were certain supplies, such as regulation boot polish and field rations, that they would not have access to in the lands of Cadance and Celestia. The next opportunity they’d have for resupply was in Astropolis, in six months’ time or more.

The green of her eyes met Vino’s as he passed, and narrowed. “Keep walking, Hedera! You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up this late!”
Vino didn’t bother correcting Kore, who had begun preparing her soldiers at eight. Vino noticed that the other four barracks were in similar disarray, his included, and he felt anger coiling in the pit of his stomach. He’d woken his ponies at four in the morning to ensure they’d be ready to go on time, and they looked to be as unready as they had been before sunup, though he’d personally overseen the packing.

A familiar face poked its head out of the barracks door, and Corporal Fireball’s face lit up. “Captain Hedera, sir!” she called, scrambling out of the door and snapping a hasty salute, which Vino returned. “Our mage just showed up!”

“Well, it’s about time!” Vino said, surprised. “Why in Tartarus is the barracks a mess?”

“He had some kind of enchantment on his bags, sir,” Fireball said, fiddling with the collar of her uniform. “We’re still packed. All the junk you see on the ground is his, we’ve been trying to get him repacked.”

Vino’s eyes boggled. On the ground in front of him he could see two telescopes, a dented cauldron, several bandoliers of potions and ointments, what appeared to be half of a mattress, and a small moppet doll covered in red painted runes, which both worried and intrigued him.

“How does he expect to carry all of this?” Vino asked.

Fireball cleared her throat nervously, running a hoof through her fiery mane in agitation. “Like I said, sir, he’s got some kind of enchantment on his bags. They supposedly hold more than they should, but the problem is that once you get them closed, they fling themselves back open and spill everything out again.”

“I can make it fit, I swear!” a nervous, reedy voice shouted from inside the barracks. “Just remove the boom hook and fold it in half!”

“It doesn’t fold that way!” another, deeper voice retorted. Vino recognized this as belonging to Goldenrod, the pony who’d commented on Vino’s lack of experience when they first met. “It folds up near you!”

“No, no!” the first voice replied. “You have to remove the hook, then it folds.”

Vino entered the barracks, blinking as his eyes adjusted, and tilted his head in confusion. What seemed to be a small crane was being shoved into a black doctor’s valise, disappearing into the void it appeared to contain. Privates Moon and Astra were struggling with another piece of luggage, a small wooden chest, which was bulging in such a way that Vino’s eyes started to cross.

Private Moon noticed Vino and tried to go to attention, which nearly proved disastrous. The young unicorn threw his bulk back over the lid of the chest, resembling a yellow blanket as much as anything else, as the lid appeared to try to spring open.

“Stay down, damn you!” Astra hollered at the wooden box, her voice tight with frustration, betraying a rare bit of emotion. She kicked at it ineffectually, not noticing Vino pass by, and the box’s efforts seemed to subside.

“Corporal Fireball, please go assist Privates Astra and Moon,” Vino said. “Just keep that thing closed until I can talk to our mage.”

Fireball nodded and shot off towards the chest, hurling herself bodily at the thing as she attempted to pin it to the ground. Vino approached the mage, tapping him on the shoulder politely. The mage appeared not to notice him for a moment, trying to shove the construction equipment into his valise before turning around to meet his eyes.

The mage, wearing the distinctive black robe of his order, spangled with runes, grinned at him, blue eyes blinking behind thick, horn-rimmed glasses. The brown of his coat was patterned oddly, bleached in some spots and burnt in others, clearly the result of potion accidents, and his blonde mane was likewise burned and tangled, some spots having been roughly cut away to preserve a semblance of order. He extended a hoof.

“Sir Vino of Hedera!” he exclaimed brightly. “Pleased to finally meet you! Sorry I’ve been late, I’ve had to close out accounts here in the city before I could make it over.”

Vino took it, not wanting to seem impolite. “The pleasure’s mine, mister…?”

“Ceres,” the unicorn replied, pumping his hoof vigorously. “Ceres ex Anima. It sure is exciting to be setting off with you all! I’d considered a career in the Army before I was selected for an apprenticeship.”

Vino nodded, steering them over to an isolated corner as he continued to chatter about absolutely nothing important, noting that his Guards were, indeed, packed. Finally, he held up a hoof, cutting Ceres’ chatter off. “Might I ask you something?” he asked professionally. “What exactly is all…this?” He waved a hoof, managing to encompass all the equipment and simultaneously inquire as to its purpose.

“It’s for my work!” Ceres said animatedly. “I’m conducting research into eight-folded dimensional spellcasting and its effects on…”

Vino held up a hoof, forestalling him. “If it isn’t directly related to your spellcasting abilities or survival gear, it stays behind,” he said firmly. “Grimoires, alchemical ingredients you know you can’t get abroad, that can come. But I will not have the ponies under my command lugging around a full laboratory. Whatever research you’re doing, it’s on hold. You should have known that coming in.”

“But..” Ceres spluttered, “But..”

“Have Private Corium assist you in cataloguing what you do and do not need,” Vino said. “No more than would fit in a standard-issue rucksack. These will be staying behind. Leave a forwarding address for them or fill out a storage form so the Guard can keep your equipment in trust until your return. There should be some in the cabinet by the door.”

Ceres had turned a peculiar shade of greenish-white. Vino ignored him. “Private Corium!” he shouted. The beleaguered private, collar undone and mustache askew, rushed forward, standing at attention. “Assist Mister Animus in reducing his collection,” Vino said. “He’s got a rucksack to fill, help him pack it, too. Don’t let him forget things like spare clothing, he’s going to need it in the field.”

The private nodded, his close-cropped black mane slick with sweat. He led Ceres away, talking animatedly to him in a low tone. Vino took a deep breath, and bellowed “Don’t bother packing, just move the junk to the side of the barracks! Make sure your kit is squared, check your rifles and ammunition, but do not load! I want those of you not involved in assisting the mage outside in fifteen! Get a move on!”

Vino made his way to the back of the barracks, to what was supposed to be his office, though he’d spent maybe a few hours there over the entire course of the week, running between the Guard headquarters to requisition materials and the practice field with his squad. The week had passed into a whirlwind of paperwork, exercise, and endless drill and instruction, from proper medical treatment, past first aid, to cartology, survival tactics, and even dress and appearance. The Guard had slightly different uniforms from the Army, just enough to make things tricky, and several of the 4th Rifles hadn’t known about the regulations.

Gradually, the 4th had become a tight-knit group, though there were still kinks to be ironed out. They had no heavy weapons, a single scout in Private Astra, and their fire discipline left much to be desired. But they were accurate, responded well to orders, and Vino had noticed that so long as they had a good leader at the helm, they had no difficulties getting things done. The ponies of the 4th Rifles knew their trade.

Vino opened the door to his office, and was much perturbed to find somepony already occupying it. Slowly he closed the door behind him, suddenly very much on guard. “Hello, Aura,” he said quietly.

“Vino,” the mare said pleasantly. “I take it you’re getting ready to leave?” She stood, vacating the chair behind his desk. Her eyes, icy blue, met his, and widened in surprise to match his own. “You didn’t know I was coming. Oh, dear. Is this a bad time? I noticed things seemed a bit hectic out there when I first arrived, something to do with that mage.”

“No,” Vino managed to get out, “It’s fine. Did you send a message ahead? It might not have gotten through the post office in time.”

“I asked one of your Guards to let you know when you arrived,” Aura said, brushing a golden lock of mane out of her eye. “I brought your armor, it just got back from the smith.” She pointed into the corner of the room, and sure enough, there on a stand that had certainly not been there before, was his armor. The helmet looked good as new, too, and his bladeband was displayed prominently next to it..

“Thank you,” Vino said cautiously. “It’s good to have it back, I’d thought I would need to leave without it.” He reached for one of the greaves, but Aura grabbed it before he could.

“Here,” she said hesitantly. “Let me. I used to help your father with his own armor…before.”

Vino said nothing, merely removing his coat and pulling on the leather jerkin. He stood still as Aura began to buckle on the pieces of his armor, securing them much more efficiently and tightly than he could manage alone. What would have been the work of a good fifteen minutes was going to pass in less than ten.

“Grappa and Fern missed you at Hearth’s Warming,” she said quietly, and Vino felt a pang of guilt. “They understood, of course, you have duties to attend to.”

Not many celebrated the holiday of Hearth’s Warming except for the royal family and a few older Houses, so Vino had almost forgotten the approaching holiday until the day it had arrived. But he’d a job to do, and ponies to train. It didn’t help the small tendrils of guilt uncoiling in his chest, squeezing his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. “I just couldn’t make it.” It was mostly the truth. If he’d really wanted to, he could have requested a day off. It wouldn’t have been begrudged him. But the thought of another holiday in the empty ancestral house of the Hederas did not appeal to him in the slightest.

Aura fitted the breastplate to his front, drawing the straps tight, but not so tight it bit into his chest. “It’s fine, really,” she said calmly. “Just making conversation. It’s going to be a while before I can speak to you again directly.”

“I can give you a mirror call when we get to Dawndale,” Vino said. “I meant to do that before we left today, anyway.”

“I thought as much,” Aura said, buckling his gorget into place. Vino caught whiff of roses as she leaned in, fiddling with a strap, and almost caught himself leaning forward a little as she fastened the buckle with deft, businesslike movements. She drew away, grabbing his helmet. Vino shook himself, disturbed by his reaction.

Vino tested the armor, rolling his shoulders and bending his knees, making sure he had the mobility he needed. Satisfied, he reached for his pack, but Aura stopped him again. She grabbed a package wrapped in golden foil from the desk, and offered it to him. “Happy Hearth’s Warming,” she said with a smile. “From all of us at home to you.”

Vino looked at the package curiously, and unwrapped it with a few swift movements. Dark green cloth coiled to the floor, revealing broad swathes of white vines and leaves. Vino, realizing what it was, picked it up, admiring the three-leaved crest of his family embroidered in gold.

“This tabard is similar to the one your father used during his service,” Aura said fondly. “His is hanging up in the House, of course, but it’s high time the Hedera colors showed themselves in defense of the Kingdom again.” Quickly, she draped it over his head, and by the time Vino had extricated his head from the fabric, she had belted it into place. “There,” she said, stepping back. “It suits you well.”

Vino, stunned, searched for words. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “This means a lot to me.”

Aura looked at him with pride in her eyes. “Your service means much to our House, Vino,” she said. “We are traders, yes, but never forget that our first legacy was as warriors. I might not have been born into your House, but I respect it. I just wish that you would show the same pride in it that I feel.”

Vino reached for his bladeband, buckling it on, and slung his pack, feeling the reassuring weight. “I’ll do my best for my House and my country,” he said. “And…for what it’s worth, I’ll write, too. Frequently, as frequently as I can.”

Aura smiled. “That’s wonderful,” she said, her voice warm and supportive. “I’m sure Grappa and Fern will appreciate it, too.”

Vino returned the smile shakily, placing his hoof on the door. “Give them my love,” he said. “And Aura?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll prove that I’m my father’s son by the time I return. I promise.”

The door shut behind him, leaving Aura alone in the now-empty office. She allowed herself the luxury of a soft chuckle. She was sure that he would undoubtedly prove himself worthy of his father’s name when he made it back. She would simply have to make sure he didn’t.


Cobblestone looked around the room she had come to call her own in recent weeks, and was extremely glad she didn’t have much to pack. Most everything she had was able to fit in a single large rucksack, and the things that didn’t quite fit, such as her two dresses, were replaceable. She was almost entirely sure of it.

“I have boots?” she asked herself, drawing what indeed appeared to be a set of warm-weather boots from her wardrobe. “When did I get boots?”

The servants brought them, Hob said with a yawn and lazy stretch, his claws protruding ever so slightly from between the black of his fur. Licking one paw, he set about grooming himself. I suggest packing them. I’ve heard the mountains of Cadance’s Court can be quite inhospitable.

Cobblestone shrugged and stuffed them into the bag. “I don’t understand how I’ve come to own so much in a month,” she said. “I was unconscious for almost two of those weeks, too. Logically, I’d have finished packing right now.”

This is what comes from staying in one place for too long, Hob said, swiping at a non-existent piece of dirt that was apparently lodged in his coat. You begin to put down roots, and it’s harder to tear them back up. I much prefer a nomadic lifestyle.

“Says the cat that’s been caught in the icebox with three half-eaten fish,” Cobblestone said gently. “Come on, Hob. You’re going to miss it here, too.”

Hob’s tail twitched thoughtfully. I suppose there is something to having such a wide range of food in one place. Their policy on how much I can eat leaves much to be desired, however.

“Once we get to Dawndale, I’m sure you’ll be able to hunt as much as you like,” Cobblestone said. “And if not, I’ll get you enough food to keep you satisfied.”

Hob’s eyes gleamed, and he opened his mouth wide, exposing needle-sharp teeth. Cobblestone could see all the way through the red of his mouth to the black oblivion of his gullet, and felt a tiny thrill of fear as she remembered once more that Hob was not exactly what he seemed. Oh, my Mistress, I sincerely doubt that.

Cobblestone decided to busy herself with the packing, and it was not long until she had cleaned her drawers of everything she was going to take with her, double and triple-checking to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. The rucksack sat, bulging only a little, on the floor. Sighing contentedly, she eyed the clock on the wall. She still had an hour before she had to be down with the caravan.

Sliding her robe over her head, she made sure that her traveling boots, made of supple brown leather, fit her just right, tying the multitude of knots with steady and practiced motions. A small sash draped from the back of her wide-brimmed hat in such a way that it could be fastened to the robe, and this too she tied tightly, not wanting to lose her hat in the weather. Airships weren’t exactly known for their sedate nature. She buckled her belt around the whole lot, sword swinging, and realized that at some point, she was going to need to learn how to use the damned thing.

“You look quite fetching,” an oily voice said from behind her, and Cobblestone spun around, heart hammering in her chest. Standing before her was a unicorn stallion, grey of hair and brown of coat, dressed in a rumpled suit pinstriped in black and grey. His eyes, yellow and red, danced with something that could have been called humor at a first glance. But something dark lurked behind that smile, and the longer one looked, the more one realized his was the kind of humor some foals felt at pulling the wings off of insects.

Dis looked her up and down. “Very nice. Very mature. Dignified, even. You wear the robes well.”

“What…what do you want?” Cobblestone asked, backpedaling until she felt the cool and unyielding stone of the wall behind her.

Discord spread his hooves wide in a gesture of embrace. “I came to wish you good luck, of course!” he said cheerfully. “And to remind you that I’ll be watching, but mostly the first thing. You’ve already made things more than interesting around here, I can’t wait to see how you manage to shake things up with dear old Cady and Celly.”

“Get out,” Cobblestone spat. “Just get out, before I…”

“Before you what, exactly?” Dis asked, his smile growing to expose the single fang in his yellowed mass of teeth. “Call for the guards? Sic your pussycat on me? Run me through with that hunk of steel? Use your magic?”

Cobblestone growled, and without meaning to, a small spindle of lightning shot from her horn to the chandelier in the ceiling, causing it to sway in warning. “I don’t know what you are,” she said, “But I’m willing to bet even you can’t walk away from a bolt to the chest.”

Dis’s gaze turned from the chandelier to her, and his face slowly turned a bit more serious. Cobblestone could feel the temperature in the room fluctuating from chilly to stifling to freezing and back again. She planted her hooves and waited for the inevitable.

The suited stallion didn’t do much, his horn barely even lit with indescribable color, and Cobblestone suddenly found the floor of her room had turned to soap. Her once-sure footing vanished as she slipped and fell onto her stomach with a thud, the wind whooshing out of her in a single blow. Gasping, she attempted to find purchase and failed.

“You have much to learn,” Dis said, sounding almost regretful. “Your first lesson is a simple one. Don’t pick fights you cannot win, child. My power may have waned over time, but I can assure you that a fight with me is not something you desire, no matter how you think otherwise.”
He waved his horn again, and the floor was polished stone once more. Cobblestone felt herself lifted onto her hooves, and a duster appeared from nowhere, brushing the soap and dirt from her robes while she regained her breath. A few quick tugs of magic from Dis, and she stood presentable once more, save for the nasty bruises she could feel developing along her ribcage.

“I don’t have much time,” he said conversationally, plucking lint from her dress, “I’ve a meeting to attend. But I came to give you a gift, if you so desire.”

Cobblestone, more guarded, realized that Dis had, seemingly without moving, gotten much closer to her. “What kind of gift?” she breathed, not daring to look away.

“A riddle,” he said. “One that I think you will wish to hear. Only for you, not for others to hear, understand?”

Cobblestone said nothing, merely nodded, her limbs trembling with fear.

Dis cleared his throat. “Listen well,” he intoned. “For what I say is true unto the sounding of the stars and the shaking of the earth.”

And quite suddenly, Cobblestone was no longer in her room. Misty trees stretched into infinity, and a sky deeper and blacker than any she had seen filled the heavens with a dreadful sense of purpose. She had the feeling she was not supposed to be here. The sky above her filled quite suddenly with clouds, three storms rushing headlong into one another, and when the lightning flashed, they spoke with three different voices that filled the sky far louder than thunder.

Harmony bound in bloodlines found, and blood is thicker than water, came a low rumble, cavernous and vast.

Six powers grand did stride the land, passed from daughter to daughter, a second voice hissed like the driving rain, and the clouds opened up, drenching Cobblestone in crisp water.

Cobblestone could almost see lines of lightning streaking across the sky, not just in white and blue, but in purple and orange and pink and yellow, forking and splitting, twining together and coming apart. A third voice spoke, harsh as the crack of a riven tree.

The almighty sun let one power run, and so gambled away her glory, the third voice said, popping like smoke.

A kingdom was broken, a kingdom was found, but there does not end the story, the first voice said, tolling like judgement across the sky, and Cobblestone could see fearful winds stripping the branches of the forest bare, though she remained untouched by them.

Six powers remain, but all in vain, their children are dead now and gone. The winds shifted, and Cobblestone found herself launched into the sky, as the once numerous bolts of lightning flickered and died, sending her hurtling into turbulent darkness.

The blade has been cast, shall strike to the last, and Sunfall shall herald the dawn. The winds died, and Cobblestone fell, screaming, to the jagged spears of the treetops below.

With a start, Cobblestone realized where she was, and almost collapsed to the stone floor of her room for the second time. Dis was gone, the clock read eleven-thirty, and though she might otherwise have been able to convince herself that what she had seen was a daydream or some sort of waking nightmare, the slight dampness of her robes told her otherwise.


“That’s everything packed,” Serale said with a sigh. “And an hour to go.”

She looked around the room, happy she was leaving so much behind. She’d grown used to traveling light, and a diplomatic tour meant she would be travelling lighter still, her needs met by the Courts in which she would be staying.

Her eyes lit on the stone box taking up a large portion of her quarters, and she realized that she didn’t need to take another dress with her. She’d be fine wherever she went if she wanted new clothing, but it wouldn’t feel right to leave the contents of the box behind. It would take more time to put on than a dress, but it would be well-worth the effort.

Her horn lit up, and Serale still felt a little thrill as she reached for things, and they came to her instead of the other way around. An arming doublet, leggings, and other bits and sundries flew through the air, and Serale pulled the gear on with the skill born of long practice, disdaining the use of her magic for this task, at least. She didn’t have the control yet for fastening small buckles. She tucked the small pendant, the diamond glowing a bright green, into her padding, almost feeling it regulate the currents of magic around her.

The lid was a bit more of a chore, taking a considerable amount of force, but Serale managed to get it off. She had only ever worn the armor once, but it felt more than right to don it now. A coif of Taurish mail went over her head, falling lightly in such a way that belied the strength and durability it truly possessed. Greaves of shining black went onto her forelegs, buckling seamlessly into more plates, which locked cunningly together, providing almost no gap for a weapon to pass through. Finally, she donned the breastplate, purest black emblazoned with a five-pointed star in white gold, around which curled a dragon, purple save for a bright green crest, incredibly detailed.

Serale frowned at it. The figure looked almost familiar, somehow, like she had seen it before. But that couldn’t be, she had only ever met two or three dragons, none of them patterned like this. But the feeling remained, unshakeable in its certainty that, yes, she had seen it before somewhere.

“Serale?” called a familiar voice, warm and musical.

Serale turned to face her mother, buckling the plate on as she did so. “Mother!” she exclaimed, feeling for all the world like she had just been caught doing something she really ought not to be. “I didn’t hear you enter!”

Twilight smiled at her daughter, clad similarly in black, though hers was a dress of stiff velvet, and instead of a helmet, she was wearing her crown of office. “I wanted to come and say goodbye in person,” she said. “I’ll be seeing you off at the gate, of course, but that’s really more of a group thing and...”

“I’m glad,” Serale said, a bit awkwardly. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

“Look at you,” Twilight said, her eyes misty. “Growing up already. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter, you know that, right?”

Serale smiled sheepishly, scuffing one hoof. “Mother, please…”

“I mean that,” Twilight Sparkle said. “Really, you don’t know how nice it’s been having not just a daughter, but a friend. I don’t have many of those.” She took a deep breath. “Which is why it’s always hard when you go away. I’d just gotten used to having you around the castle again.”

“You know I have to, Mother,” Serale said. “It’s best for both of us. And I’ll be in Aunt Cadance’s Court and Celestia’s too, you know they’ll keep me safe.”

“I’m not sure whether I worry more about Celestia and her plans, or Cadance and her matchmaking,” Twilight grumbled. “And you left out Luna, too. Just try not to come back with a stallion on your arm, alright? Can you promise me that?”

Serale laughed. “I promise, Mother,” she said. “Strictly business, nothing more.”

Twilight embraced her daughter, and Serale felt herself relax in her grip, the smell of lavender filling her nostrils. “I should be able to protect you,” Twilight murmured gently, running a hoof through her daughter’s golden hair. “But it seems like this is something I have to do. I have to let go of you sometime. I just wish it didn’t come this soon.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” Serale said quietly. “And I’ll see you again soon.”

Twilight drew in a trembling breath, glad her daughter couldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. “I know, Serale,” she said, hating the lie as it came out of her mouth. “I know.”