//------------------------------// // Prologue–It's a Good Day // Story: Blueblood: Cerberus // by SoothingCoffee //------------------------------// If I were to pick up a single moment in my life where I was thrust from my debauchery-filled life; of buying expensive wines, spending passionate nights with different mares, and other hedonistic activities, into leading a secret paramilitary organization bent on the extermination of all things supernaturally evil—monsters—, and defending Equestria with its inhabitants from said supernatural evil: It would be from the very beginning, in that accursed morning and that accursed letter from my accursed senile grandfather.   It was Tuesday morning, the morning birds chirping with intent of assassinating me, and as I clutched the temple of my head, feeling the white hot needles carving a sizable hole on my head, I made note for the maids to burn those critters upon sight. Groaning in pain, I became aware of the pair of slender white hooves wrapped around me, and tilting my head, I saw Golden Lock’s—the mare I’d spent the night with—muzzle leaning in close to mine.   She was a petite and heavenly svelte mare, not quite like Fleur Dis Lee—but close enough—with a white alabaster coat and a messy blonde mane that used to be wavy and smooth the night before. On those delicious soft flanks, a picture of a black grand piano, swirled in musical notes was stamped upon. Were I a more observant stallion that morning,—not to say I was not. Being a Prince (despite the lack of obligatory duties), the heir of the House of Blood, and Auntie Tia’s nephew, I have plenty of power to use here and there; power that many sycophants would want in the betterment of their life. Being observant is important, lest I become their puppet—I would’ve noticed the eerie similarity between Golden Lock and me rather than staring at the rippling muscles on her abdomens.   For a moment, I thought of returning the mare’s embrace and close my eyes to spend the morning away. After all, it would be improper for a noblestallion like me to leave a noblemare like her alone in the bed. The fact that I wouldn’t need to attend the Morning Court was a plus.   Golden Lock’s muzzle twitched, dashing away my shortly made plan, and released out a cute yawn, her blue eyes fluttering open. She looked surprise for a moment, before her lips turned sultry, and her eyes half-lidded. “Good morning, Prince Blueblood. How are you feeling?”   A charming smile replaced my pained frown. “A little hung-over, but your eyes definitely helped.”   She tittered, before nuzzling me on the neck. She was quite the cuddler, I had found last night. “Always the charmer, I see,” I heard her muffled response.   We broke off our impromptu morning cuddle a moment later with a mirthful smile, climbing down off the bed, much to the row of pounding hammers inside my head. We would separate into our own way after this, probably never to meet again, and if we were asked what happened last night, we would say there was no last night. A regretful notion as she was a wonderful mare to share the night with, but such is the life of Blueblood; certain commitment was never in his blood.   My horn glowed blue, and my headache vanished as one of the three spells—the others being other basic telekinesis and that neat contraception spell—I had the want and dedication to learn swept through my body: Sobering spell. I was sure that wasn’t the real name, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what.   I noted, from the corner of my eyes, Golden Lock doing the same. I couldn’t help but smile, which she returned accordingly. “Sobering spell?” she asked.   “Sobering spell,” I confirmed her guess. It was actually a Mind Clarity spell, but sobering spell seemed more appropriate. I twisted my neck to the left and right, sighing in relief as cracking sounds was elicited from it. “Well then,” walking to the door of my bedroom, I twisted the knob with my magic. “Before we part ways, how about we share our last morning with a breakfast?”   The mare smirked, sashaying right up to my face. “With pleasure,” dipping her head slightly, her golden lustrous tail tickled my chin as she went past me; her swaying flanks given generously for my eyes.   I chuckled, closing the door before following her at my own pace, staring at the lines of white and gold intermixed on the wallpapered wall; golden strings swirled into complex art sticking on the skirting board. Several small tables were placed along the wall, supporting the motherly visage of Auntie Tia’s head busts, and the scowls and neutral visages of my ancestors’ head busts.   We passed a particularly large painting, of my father, who had vanished mysteriously one day, and now announced deceased. He was a stallion very familiar looking with me, wearing a black tuxedo with a blue rose sticking out of his left breast pocket. On his face, a golden thin moustache stood below his nose, somehow further emphasizing the aristocratic look on his visage; a thin frown, cold blue eyes, and stoic demeanor that simply screamed “You’re not worthy in my eyes” for whoever had the inconvenience at staring his eyes.   “Blueblood?”   Golden’s inquiry managed to snap me out of my reverie, and belatedly, I realized she was staring at me, then at my father’s painting, then back at me with an odd look I couldn’t discern. “Nothing to see here,” I said abruptly, more to myself than her as I approached her side, and directed her to the dining room. I made a small mental note for Silver Tray, my butler, to replace the painting with something else, even if he wouldn't do it.   Thankfully, Golden made no comment or complaint as I did so. When I was alone once more, I had no doubt it would make me ever so slightly disgusted of my reaction. An insufferable prick I may be to everypony—with few exceptions—but I was still Equestria’s Most Sought Bachelor for a reason. Once, Fancy Pants had taken my place, but it changed after he married to the Fleur Dis Lee. How that lowborn even managed to do so would be a question left unanswered.   Passing several paintings of the Blood ancestors, along with a floundering new maid behind schedule whom quickly darted past me after a harsh glare, and a mental of discipline through Silver Tray—an act I would’ve gone through if not for the news I would later receive—, we finally stood before a double door of the dining room; ornate engravings carved smoothly on both side of the doors, and a small table supporting another head bust of my many ancestors, Sparkling Blood.   One day, thought I, it would be my head on there.   Covering the door's handle with my blue aura, I opened the door with a step to the side, allowing Golden to enter first. “Ladies first,”   She did so with a smile, her flanks swaying hypnotically as she went inside, and a short moment later, I followed. The dining room of the Blood mansion is massive; in the long past, relatives and nobles alike would gather round across Equestria to celebrate many festivities for every year or so. But in today, it was rarely filled with any sort of festivities, nor ponies. Such was the fate of the Blood Family; so stretched were my family that with every sons, daughters, and bastards, traditions and history are replaced with another; forgotten. I wouldn’t be surprised—but I would be offended—if somepony from out of nowhere would acclaim himself having the blood of the Blood family in his vein, not that it would help him much.   It was only because I was born within the main branch of the Blood Family, the only one that stays true with its tradition, that there’s still a Blood Family. Being the nephew of the princess helps.   Still, it didn’t subtract any beauty from the room itself. A long crystalline table stood in the center of the room with a specially knitted unblemished tablecloth, golden and silver lines intertwined on its edges, draped over the table, supporting unneeded silver candlesticks and platters with eating utensils in front of several velvet chairs. Tapestries symbolizing Auntie’s sun—or rather, the mark on her flanks—and the Blood’s insignia were hanged high on the walls, seemingly flapping from unfelt wind—thanks to the age-old runes embedded on it.    Atthe end of the room, there were two wooden doors, one leading to the kitchen and another as an exit in the case of emergency. Twenty maids wearing the required Prench maid uniform, ten each, stood on both sides of the room; their behind pressed against the wall, their faces soft and beautiful yet sharp. At the end of the crystalline table stood a gray coated stallion with back-slicked coal black mane and tail, garbed in the proper butler uniform, hiding the picture of a circular tray with a glass of wine on his flanks and the thinly veiled muscles under it.   He’s Silver Tray, the family’s personal butler. And perhaps the closest thing I could call a friend at the time.    His brown eyes flicked at me as I moved to the nearest chair, my companion for the night followed me, and he gave me an almost imperceptible bow. As I took my seat at the end of the table, Golden taking one on my side, he gave the marble floor a tap with his hoof, and in an unspoken command, three maids of undistinguished feature stepped forward, and made a beeline to the kitchen.   “Good morning,” his old, yet strong and fond voice tinted with hidden amusement echoed in the room. “I hope your night and morning went wonderfully smooth?”   I chuckled, glancing at the tittering mare beside me. “I wouldn’t call it smooth, but it was wonderful,” from the edge of my eyes, I noted five—new—maids blushing furiously. The one I saw earlier from the hall was definitely the reddest of them.   Golden smirked in a way that I found both endearing and odd. “I find myself agreeing. The only thing that was smooth is your tongue, Prince,” she said in that silky and teasing tone.    I smirked, propping a hoof under my chin as I leaned on the table. “Well, yes, previous endeavors have told me the very same thing,” I paused; my eyes glanced at the flustered maids, before back at the mare. “And I love the way you used yours as well.”   “You would be surprised of how many previous endeavors have said such similar thing,”   “Oh?” a brow rose from its place, and I ignored the niggling feeling in my head as my smirk turned into a challenging smile. “How many?”   Propping her hoof the same way I did, she leaned forward into my ears, and whispered, “Do you really want to know, my Prince?”   The musky scent from her mane wafted into my nose. “I’ll tell you yours,” whispered I as I tilted my head, nipping the tip of her ear, much to her shuddering delight and the embarrassment of the increasingly flustering new maids.   Humming to herself as if in thought, the mare finally answered, “One-hundred-and-twenty eight,”   My eyes widen, and it was only the composure training that was the life a noble ingrained into my head that I didn’t gasp, shot back, and shout her numbers in shock. Instead, I simply mouthed the numbers quietly in shocked silence. “How?” I asked curiously.   Though I couldn’t see it, I knew she was smirking in amusement. “Trade secret, I’m afraid. Now, you promised me your numbers. Do tell.”   Were I a lesser stallion, and a lesser noble, I would’ve told a fake number. As it was, I wasn’t, so I simply whispered back to her, “Eighty-two, including you.” I chuckled lightly, smiling as I leaned to the back of the chair, and I stared at her mirthful eyes. It was a shame this was only a one-night stand. “I’ve lost, it seems.”   The maids’—the older ones—collective gasp rang in the room, and I had no doubt Silver Tray was going to discipline them after breakfast. Good. They were lucky enough to be in this room.   If anything, the mare seemed amused at their reactions. “You’ll get there yourself, Prince.”   Just in time as well, as the kitchen door swung open and three maids walked out with a rolling cart beside them. On top it, plates after plates of breakfast foods—ranging from pancakes to Prench toast—, an array of syrups and fruit jams, and pitchers of ice cold juices. I had no doubt the food wasn’t all for me and my guest, but for the maids as well, judging from their slightly dazed look as the wonderful scents of fresh food covered the room like a plague.   Nothing I could do about it. Plebeians and peasants they may be, but they’re my plebeians and peasants, and they sure as Tartarus will get their nutrition. I glanced at Golden, her eyes closed and a dreamy smile covered her face as she took a deep breath in the sea of goodness.   Soon, the maids—two Earth, and the other Unicorn—, of which I had no idea what their name was, and I was sure it would’ve stayed that way were things didn’t go south as quick as a virgin in a room with five escorts in heat, stood on the side of the table and began to fill a quarter of the table with food and drinks, a pleasant and controlled smile on their face; remarking how long the mares had worked here.   “Enjoy your breakfast,” the Unicorn said, followed by a brief bow with her cohorts, before turning around, intent on returning to the empty spot in the middle of the rows of maids on my right.   “Thank you.”   The three maids stumbled to a halt suddenly, and I had to blink as I turned to who had said it: Golden Lock, a pleasant smile on her face as she completely ignored the stares in order to levitate various foods onto the plate before her. I glanced back at the muscular and supple behinds of the three maids, and I noted the stiffness on their backs. Not that I was surprised. Nobles don’t usually say ‘thank you’ when given something they’re already entitled to; especially when said receiver of gratitude is for someone beneath their hooves.   Nobles who did so, I found them extremely annoying. Just like how I found—and still do, admittedly—Fancy Pants annoying, or how ponies would soon be blaming the aristocrats for every small unfortunate thing that happened in their day-to-day life. Still, I did my best to quell the annoyance; it wouldn’t do, antagonizing the mare you’d spent the night with.   Maybe tomorrow, I thought as the mares stuttered their curt "you’re welcome" and hurriedly returned back to their spot after Silver tapped an impatient hoof to the floor.   As I returned my concentration upon breakfast; pouring coffee—freshly imported from Saddle Arabian deserts—into my cup, I levitated it under my nose, savoring its thick earthy smoke deep within my lungs as I closed my eyes, before I tilted it slightly to sip it carefully. I hummed blissfully, as the bitter nectar washed my tongue, and I sighed as it went down smoothly into my gullet.   The cup clinked as I put it down, and I saw Golden smirked at me; a cup of coffee within her magical grip. “Ah,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Fellow coffee aficionado, aren’t you?”   I smiled at her; my early annoyance vanished as I levitated three Prench toasts, placing the two of them onto my plate while I took a nibble of the one left within my grip. “Indeed,” I nodded.   She hummed, taking another sip of the coffee, before eating the piece of pancake stuck on her fork. “I could never understand why ponies hate it,” she sighed. “And if they don’t, they would put too much sweet in it. Truly, its delicacy is not appreciated.”   “I agree.” I replied, pausing to take a sip of my own coffee. “Though I couldn’t really blame them for that, to be honest,” I continued, before I shuddered. “Even Princess Celestia’s not too keen on drinking it without pouring several dozen heaps of cream and sugar. I had to watch her do it.”   The shudder was shared by my fellow coffee connoisseur. “Truly?” she tilted her head curiously. “That sounds positively dreadful.”   I nodded solemnly; pausing momentarily to bite what was left of the toast, and levitated another from my plate, before I said, “Positively dreadful, indeed.”   The conversation died down after that as we ate our breakfast slowly in luxury, and perhaps I took too much fun in watching the maids fidgeting on their spots; a few of them looking downright pitiful and pathetic as they watched us taking bites after bites of Prench toasts. Or in Golden’s case, pancakes.   That silence was broken by a cough by my side. “Prince Blueblood,” Silver addressed me, his visage slightly stonier as he procured a stack of papers and letters from his back.   I hummed, putting down the halfway eaten toast onto the plate—much to the displeasure of the crestfallen maids—, and took the stacks of papers off Silver’s hold. Were I to glance slightly to the left, I would’ve seen the odd smirk on Golden’s face as I flipped letters after letters; invitations to a party, invitation to a garden party, a VIP ticket for another garden party, a party invitation from Fancy Pants—which I crumpled immediately—, and a scroll sealed with the blue sealing wax of my family’s emblem on it—a drop of blood on the front of a shield.   I blinked, dropped the other unimportant letters, and then blinked again. What. I floated the scroll right onto my eyes, narrowing my eyes at the blue sealing wax, making sure that my eyes were not playing tricks with me. There were three ponies ‘alive’ in this world that could’ve sent me the letter; the first was, obviously, me. The second’s my senile grandfather laying on his deathbed, and the last would be... my missing bastard of a father.   “L-Lady Lock?” I stuttered, not even bothering to regard her properly as I felt a familiar cold pit forming inside my stomach, the object within my magic trembling with my hooves. There was something more important within my mind.   I imagined the mare was doing something akin to a tilt as she said, “Yes, Prince Blueblood?”   I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath; forcing the shakes down, and shoving my fraying nerves into a spot where no eyes could see it. Opening my eyes, a finely crafted smile—and completely fake to the touch—touched my face as I stared blankly at the floating scroll. “Would you mind ending our breakfast a tad too early?”   “Not at all, Prince,” I pictured she was shaking her head, not that it mattered.   “Thank you for your understanding, Lady Golden Lock. Silver,” I regarded my butler, who snapped his head away from the floating letter, straightening the butler uniform. “Please escort Lady Golden Lock out.”   He nodded, walking out of my view. Presumably to Golden’s side, followed by the noise of a chair scrapping against the floor, and a pair of hoofsteps heading to the exit. “And Silver?” the steps paused, and I had no doubt Silver was turning his around to face the back of my head. “Please visit my ‘office’ after you’re done, would you?”   “Yes, Prince Blueblood.” And with that, the steps continued, the sound of a door opening, followed by the stepping sounds and them fading away as the door clicked shut.   Silence; uncomfortable silence permeated thickly within the room as I kept staring at the letter, and the maids probably pondered to themselves whether they should leave or not. I suppose it was proper; even if the content wasn’t what I was expecting, it did change the entirety of my life.   After what felt like an eternity, I tore my eyes away from the scroll, ate what was left of the toast, and levitated the cup of coffee beside me as I turned to the door, hooves clacking against the floor as I left the room. As I made my way to my office, the scroll on my left, and the cup of coffee under my nose, I heard the sound of cheers filtered behind the door.   ()_()_()     ‘My’ office was a mess. And I used that word extremely lightly. So light, in fact, that if Silver Tray was there, I had no doubt he would slap me silly like a naughty pretentious little foal. Of course, then, I would have him arrested, unfairly trialed, and locked in a dungeon until his corroded bones would be the only thing left to the world.   Thankfully, Silver Tray couldn’t read minds, and he was either still in the process of escorting Golden Lock away, or midway into my office.   Papers and books of all kinds; mostly about topography and geography, flooded the red velvet carpet that was the office’s floor, creating a sea of browns, whites, and reds. On both side of the room, two bookshelves devoid of its content were pressed against their respective wall, and in front of me; in the center of the room, was a smoky brown mahogany desk, ancient old reliefs were carved on its edges; each depicting how Equestria was truly founded.   A tapestry map of Ancient Equestria and the old lands surrounding it covered the desk’s surface. Desk utensils lay cluttered above it, and I clicked my tongue as I noticed the dark stains from a tilted ink jar on the tapestry. “Well,” I muttered, carefully trudging my way through the floor of old dusty books and white papers for ‘my’ desk. “I could buy another.”   Not that it would matter, I thought to myself as I placed the empty cup of coffee on the desk. I sighed, sparing the stained tapestry a glance, before I turned around to face the door; my behind leaning casually against the unusually strong and heavy desk. The scroll came to my view with my blue aura around it.   There was a strange mix of emotions welling up inside me. Foreign stuffs. Stuffs, that while I admit I had felt before, I couldn’t put a pin on it. It was something that was both cold and hot; like that chemistry class involving fire and ice, fighting each other for the right to stand above. In the end, I snuffed that feeling with a mask of cold indifference, and I plucked the blue seal off the scroll, before unrolling it, revealing a tidy and cursive horn-written letters that would fit more as an art than a message.   If you are reading this, Blueblood, then that means three things has happened to me, your grandfather. First, I’m—hopefully—dead. Second, I’ve gone senile beyond sanity, and third, I’ve been spirited away to Celestia only knows—she doesn’t—where. If the first happened, make sure I’m cremated. If it’s the second, then please, euthanize me. But if things have gone worse than I had thought, which would mean the third case, try your fucking damnedest to find me, and do whatever is necessary to me afterwards.   Anyway, as per the tradition of the Blood family, I’m going to make this straight to the point: Congrats, Blueblood, you are now the head of Cerberus, a secret paramilitary organization bent on protecting the inhabitants of Equestria from everything that is both supernatural and evil.   I choked on my spit, a cold pit formed in my stomach. “W-what?” I reread the chapter once more, making sure that no; my breakfast hadn’t been poisoned to impair my vision. And it took every bit of me and a deep steadying breath to calm myself down. It had been a long time since I had last seen my grandfather; around five years ago, just right after my mother had been administered into a mental asylum in New Yolk after she almost had killed herself via ropes.   He was already senile then, spittle flew out of his mouth as he kept prattling and rambling and gibbering about an old fairytale parents usually tell to their foals to make them behave. And I took assurance from that. With that in mind, I snorted contemptuously at the scroll. For a moment, I thought of simply crumpling it into a ball, and throw it into the bin. But I didn’t. May as well, I thought, making a mental note to make the staffs’ life that were responsible in nurturing my senile grandfather and forwarding this scroll to me into a living Tartarus; starting with taking their job away from them.   A bit sudden, I know. The same thing occurred to me when your great-grandfather told me this. Which is why, I’m going to give you a brief explanation what is Cerberus, and the more supernatural world hiding underground Equestria’s pristine surface:   Monsters live among us. Vampires, ghouls, ghosts, and other otherworldly creatures that want to do us, ponies, harm. You never knew this, of course, and there’s a possibility that one of your many capture is a succubus. If you had felt sore and extremely tired one morning after a bout of passionate night, then congrats, that’s your first monster you’ve bedded.   I gulped. Memories of a certain mare in black tight spandex, pressing against her voluptuous bottom for the entire world to see came to the surface. Her alluring aroma as we touched, melting against each other.  And the utter exhaustion that followed the morning afterwards, the cold hollowness inside me, the doctor’s panicking shout, and Auntie Tia’s cold stony visage that reminded too much of Father when a noble pressed his button the wrong way. In retrospect, I should’ve known it wasn’t just a simple cold gone wrong.    I felt sick, a shiver went straight into my spine, and I had to close my eyes to prevent dirtying ‘my’ office even more. My previous confidence crumbled faster than a virgin stallion in a room with an escort.   Such fact is kept well-hidden to those unaware. They know there are monsters out there, but they don’t know that they’re not much ‘out there’ than ‘in here’. Celestia knows the pandemonium that would happen in the case this knowledge is ever released to the world. I wouldn’t keep it out of my mind that it would release Discord from its prison. This is why Cerberus exists. Why it’s created: To protect this secret, to protect these unaware—and aware—ponies from the shadows, and to exterminate these dangerous monsters—parasites—living among us while we’re at it.   Now, I’ve put account that you won’t probably believe me in the case that I’ve gone senile, and I honestly have no idea to convince you otherwise, except for you to have faith, and visit my friend, Class Ladder, where he will fill you in about your duty. Oh, and in the case you get the bright idea to visit Princess Celestia about this, be aware that the existence of Cerberus is a breach of law under the clause thirty-six of the Unification Treaty; wherein every member of an unauthorized and illegal paramilitary organization, involving their family members who are in knowledge of said organization, are treated as traitors to the crown. That means you, Blueblood.   Of course, this means you could visit Class Leader, whose house is in Silver Street, block seven, number 72 with a rather boorish purple roof, or you could tell this to Princess Celestia and see how that’d go.   Your hopefully-dead-but-probably-not grandfather -Cold Blood   I stared blankly, hopelessly disbelievingly at the piece of parchment, floating right there before my eyes. My mind refused to believe what it was saying, trying to futilely denying it through other sorts of logical explanation; perhaps it was a prank by the hospice staffs, but the traitorous thoughts kept on coming, disproving any explanations procured but for the one already given to me. The aura around the parchment flickered, and the parchment slid down onto the veritable sea of papers and books.   Myriads of emotions struck me numb in that moment, and I couldn’t decide which one was which. There was fear, I was sure; waves of them roiling about, causing havoc in me. There’s a black denial, shriveling up, and slowly replaced with doubt; what if I was wrong, what if the parchment was telling the truth? And then there was that horrible cold pit; the prospect of my future, either to be cuffed and left to rot in the dungeon, or trying and failing to fight these terrifying monsters; spending most of my times hiding with paranoia, whether Silver Tray is a pony or not, whether Golden Lock was indeed a female pony and not some sort of otherworldly creature setting its mark upon me for further feast.   I closed my eyes as I leaned my weight to the table, cold sweat came from my pores, and I had to do Cadance’s breathing technique—one, two, breathe, one, two, breathe, one, two, breathe—which was more like something a laboring mother would do, but it managed to keep me away from staining the floor with my breakfast.   The sound of hoof knocking the door made me look up. I closed my eyes for a moment, quelling that queasy feeling with that cold indifference of a noble. “Who is it?”   “It’s me, Sir,” Silver’s voice, a touch of concern drifted inside. For a moment, I pondered if Silver Tray was a pony, and not one of those monsters the parchment mentioned. I shook those thoughts right away. “Is everything fine in there?”   No, I wanted to answer, but then I glanced at the parchment, and I gulped once more. In that moment, I wished I had dedicated more of my time in learning magic instead of lazing around, listening to peasants talking about petty problems, and nobles moaning for tax exceptions. At the very least then, I could burn the parchment, erase my memories, and return to drinking expensive wine, admiring passing mares’ round flanks, and listening to peasants and petty nobles moan about their unimportant complaints as if nothing had happened.   As it was, I took another gulp of air to steady myself, and leaned away from the table. “I’m fine, Silver.” I reassured the old stallion, lifting up and rolling the parchment as I trudged through the mess to the door. The door opened, and closed as quickly as it could as I stepped outside to Silver’s surprised face. For a moment, I thought he had seen the mess inside, but that thought died as he suddenly jumped backwards.   “Sir!” his eyes were wide as he held his hoof to his chest. “Don’t surprise this old stallion like that. You could give me a heart attack.”   I rolled my eyes, making sure that he would see it, before I turned to the left. “I’m going to take a bath, Silver. Prepare my suit on the bed...” I paused, hesitation in my movement, before I finally said, “And prepare a carriage as well. We’re going to visit my grandfather’s friend.”   As I made my way to my chamber, I heard Silver’s faint voice trailing behind me. “Of course, Sir.”   ()_()_()   Properly dressed with the white tuxedo and blue bowtie—the only kind of tie deserving of my neck—that was personally tailored by the Hoity Toity for both exceptional beauty and practicality, clean and combed, I climbed up into the Blood’s personal carriage; white alabaster with golden linings twirled around in complicated knots over it, and the Blood’s emblem engraved on both flanks of the cart—a drop of blue blood over a shield. The white folding head above shielded me from Auntie’s morning—and rather hot—sun.   I frowned when instead of Silver Tray climbing up, and taking a sit on the red velvet cushioned sofa before me, it was a maid of an indistinct quality; ruffled and uncombed blond mane and tail, grey coat under the Prench maid uniform, and an unfocused pair of yellow eyes. I mentally sighed, has the requirement for the maid position dropped so low?   She waved a hoof at me; her right eye wandered to my left, while the other on my forehead. “Good morning, Sir.”   Cringing, I ignored the peasant as I craned my head over the cart’s window, and there he was, Silver Tray standing in front of the carriage... hitching the puller’s harness over his back. “What in Tartarus are you doing, Silver?” I asked, rising my volume so he could hear me properly.   “Ah?” he glanced back to me, before returning to make sure the harness would stay on his back. “I thought I’ve told you, Sir.”   “Told me what, Silver?”   “The carriage puller, Brown Nose, resigned the job two days ago, Sir,”   My eye twitched, and it took every bit of me not to scream profanities to the air. “And you let him?”   “Well, of course, Sir,” he answered simply. “Nothing I could do about it.”   I sighed tiredly, returning to sit back on my box. The mare in front of me grinned inanely at me, and I had hoped that she was doing it out of my expense, but I couldn’t find any malicious in it. I sighed once more.   “What’s your name?”   The mare blinked, before her hoof went to her forehead, creating a sloppy salute that would make the lowest rank of the Solar Guard to cringe, and slap her silly if they’re not honor-bound to not harm innocent citizens. “Ditsy Hooves at your service, Sir!”   I sighed again, and tilted my head to stare at the scenery as the carriage began to move. For a moment, I pondered on asking whether Silver Tray was fit to pull the carriage in the first place, but then I shook that thought away. Old he may be, but the old stallion was more of an Earth Pony with an additional bone on his head than a real Unicorn. I believed, right then, that he could handle it. And I was right, though not for the same reason I believed.   Auntie’s morning sun shone above Canterlot as the carriage began to move in its earnest. Passing the gate of my mansion and houses, we soon reached to the upper streets of Canterlot; rare morning type of nobles sat on an outdoor cafe, nursing their favored drinks—probably teas, the plebs they are—as their eyes lingered on my cart, watching with curiosity as we passed them. The few healthier type of nobles trotted away from my cart, and continued on with their jogging—though it was more of a lazy trot—on the side of the street. Most shops were still closed, but there were few already opening, like Donut Joe’s bakery; strange name for a pony, but a good and trustable baker if Auntie’s hidden stash of fattening cakes were any clue.   The carriage tilted forward as we went down a hill, and for a moment there, I was afraid Silver would buckle under the carriage’s weight, snapped his back, and send us right to our doom. Miraculously, bless that stallion, it never happened, and the carriage crawled to a slow Silver carefully guided us down. Ditsy, her back pressed against the front of the carriage thanks to gravity, smile uncaringly as she munched on a muffin she magically procured under the black and white frilly uniform.   Noticing my stare—Celestia knows how—, the mare paused on her snacking. “Muffin, sir?” she offered, a hoof shot out to my face; on top of it laid a piece of an innocent looking muffin that she had somehow, once more, magically procured.   I stared at the brown thing for a moment, half-considering slapping it away, before I hesitantly plucked it up with my magic. The mare watched me with an intensity that should be impossible with her wandering eyes as I floated the muffin close to my nose, taking a hesitant sniff of it; recognizing the hint of chocolate, sugar and...   I frowned, shooting the mare an odd look. “You used coffee?”   She grinned brightly, nodding her head like a foal being praised. “It’s my first time using coffee as an ingredient!”   I turned back at the muffin, giving it a suspicious look, then at the hopeful eyes of my maid. Tentatively, I took a nibble of baked goods, chewed it, swallowed, blinked, and then took a large bite of the muffin, savoring its flavor. There’s a small hint of cinnamon hiding behind the coffee flavor. The coffee itself wasn’t overpowering the other tastes, but it was there; lingering in between the background and in front with its smoky flavor that I always associated with a well-roasted coffee beans. The muffin itself wasn’t too sweet, a hint of bitterness from the coffee beans, and I pondered if Ditsy did it so on purpose, knowing I wasn’t too big on sweet foods.   Swallowing the chunk, I looked up at Ditsy; practically edging on her seat waiting for my judgment. “It’s delicious,” I admitted honestly, taking another bite of the muffin.   The mare cheered, letting out a happy squealing noise. “I’m glad you liked it!”   “Do you make other sort of goods?” I asked, and upon her tilted head, I decided to elaborate, “Cupcakes, pancakes, those sorts of baked goods.”   She nodded. “Oh yeah, I cook all sorts of food. But mom always said that it’s not healthy or delicious to eat the same thing over and over and over...” she trailed off, shuddering, saying something that probably wasn’t meant to be heard for me, but considering the closed space, I did anyway. ”And over.”   Not that it was anything worth listening.   I hummed as I stared at the piece of pastry; decision made in my head, before I ate it and craned my neck over the window. “Silver Tray, are you alright over there!”   The carriage shook suddenly, and then halted. A particularly new and loud curse was shouted from the front of the carriage. “I’m fine, Sir!” Silver shouted over, and the carriage crawled once more. “Your concern is appreciated. Anything I could help you, Sir?”   “Yes!” I shouted back, ignoring the few odd looks shot by random passersby. “Could you assign Miss Ditsy Doo here for our pantry?” I requested.   Truthfully, it wasn’t much of a request as it was more of command. It looked like one, but when one uses logic, or have been in either position, they would know it was most definitely a command. After all, refusing your employer’s—one that is extremely powerful—requests are never wise. Silver knew that. I knew that. Ditsy certainly didn’t.   “Absolutely, Sir!” he replied back, and if I tried, I was sure I could hear a tiny bit of annoyance leaking off of them. “Is there anything else, sir?”   “Yes! How far are we before arriving to our destination?”   “Not far!”   I nodded, satisfied and plopped my rump back to my seat, and I was immediately greeted by pair of hooves around my sides, and a fluff of fur smothering me. “Thank you! Thank you!” I heard a certain maid shouted atop me.   “Get off me!” I screamed, voice muffled by the patch of fur stuffing my mouth. Whether or not she heard me, she didn’t do what I told her do. “Get off, or I’ll change my mind!”   That immediately did it, and I was allowed sight once more. Ditsy sat back on her place, a pair of blush on her cheeks as she giggled nervously, scratching the back of her neck as I gave her a glare. Rummaging through her uniform, she somehow procured a muffin, “Muffin?” she offered, a nervous smile on her face.   I gave the muffin a suspicious look. Who knows where it had been under that uniform, but in the end, I swiped the muffin and took a bite with a grumble. It wouldn’t be the first—nor the last—time had I eaten something from under a mare’s garment, even if it was under different circumstance.   The carriage tilted itself to normal as we finally reached to a steady ground, and we had to stop for a few minutes as Silver requested for a rest, which I allowed. Despite the rumor mills’ effort to make me look like a total slave driver, for some reason; I was not, and am not a slave driver.   The rest of the ride went smoothly after that, the morning’s sun finally managed to wake most ponies up, filling the pristine cobblestoned streets with the sounds of their hooves. Their eyes would momentarily linger on my carriage, before turning their head away to return what they were going to do in the first place. Some rare ponies’ eyes would linger on my driver, before turning their head away with a disdainful snort.   Hypocrites, lots of them, I thought cynically, before returning back to stare at the wall behind Ditsy’s shoulder.   Soon, the carriage came to a stop as we reached our destination. Peeking outside, I saw a two level box-shaped house with a style that Canterlotians’ architect seemed to love very much. Dull white bricks composed most of its outer wall, two makeshift pillars stood in place to hold the house’s porch, protecting the two chairs and a coffee table placed nearby the house’s front door. On the house’s second floor, a small balcony jutted out, and a line of garments—and other... questionables—were held by an almost invisible string seemingly nailed down to the balcony’s pillars. The only thing that made the house distinctive—other than the seemingly floating line of dirty laundry—was the purple roof, just like how Grandfather described it.   I climbed down from the carriage with a grace that every noble should be taught ever since they’re born. Silver stood by my side, his uniform and coat matted with sweat as he tried to control his breathing. Behind me, Ditsy stood with a silly smile on the carriage’s steps, waiting for me to let her exit.   “Wait here, it’s a personal visit.” I told both of them. For a moment, it looked as if like Silver was going to argue, before he wisely kept whatever he was going to say stayed inside as I walked past the house’s uncared lawn.   Stepping into the porch, I took a steadying breath, before I rapped my hoof against the door and waited for a response.   “Who is it?” A voice that held that old stallion’s quality, hopefully Class Ladder, shouted from the other side of the door.   I cleared my throat, feeling a tad too anxious. “It’s Blueblood,” I answered.   There was a moment of silence behind the door, before the same pony replied, “Come again?”   My eyes twitched in annoyance. “I’m Cold Blood’s grandson!”   “Oh!” inside, I heard a loud crashing sound that one would associate with several objects hitting the ground in unison. “Buck—just wait there for a moment!”   It was more than a moment later, filled with various crashing noises from inside and more streams of expletives, that Class Ladder finally broke the vicious cycle of fallen objects and expletives with the sound of hoofsteps approaching the door, followed by series of locks unlocked—by the sound of it—, chains unchained, and magical seals unsealed—a very distinct buzzing and clicking feeling that only the magically sensitive, like Unicorns, could sense when in close proximity.   “Uh,” the stallion said, sounding like he was in great strain. “Just wait for a moment. Damn thing ain’t budging.”   I cringed at the blatant butchery of proper Equish, but I kept my mouth shut in exchange of taking a few steps away from the door, sighing in relief as the annoying buzzing and clicking sound lessened to a background noise in my head. Truly, I would never understand why ponies that pursue magic, especially in magical seals, could ever bear such headache-inducing noise. There’s one thing having it inside ones head just for a few moments, but it’s another to have it buzzing inside until one couldn’t see the difference which is Equish and which is general buzzing noise.   “Take your time.” I told the stallion absentmindedly, not really meaning it. I actually thought of going home, and forget this ever happened, but before I could finish that line of thought—where it would undoubtedly end with me sitting in front of a fireplace, reading a book about Mind Magic with a pitcher of coffee on the side—, the stallion behind the door emitted a sound akin to a bleating goat.   “Aha!” the door finally opened outward, creating a small gap that showed the completely dark reserves of the house. Before I could open it all the way, I was abruptly introduced to Class Ladder as he poked his head out.   He was definitely an old Unicorn, dull gray unkempt and uncared mane that probably used to be a vibrant color was tied in a messy ponytail—obviously done in a hurry—, and dark brown coat that was probably more vibrant in his youth. Beneath his emerald green eyes, shining with recognition, I saw the folding of his sagged skin, usually seen in the victim of old age and time. Then there was that hideous smell—Oh, Auntie’s sagging teats, the smell!—of unwashed and strong body odor stabbed its prongs into my nose, and it took every disciplining lessons father had given me to be a proper noble—one that was cut too short after his disappearance—to not gag, wasted Ditsy’s muffins onto the old stallion’s ugly face, or punch him—and probably kill him too—for not keeping proper hygiene. I took a breath, clenching my stomach’s muscles as I tilted my head slightly to nod at him. “Class Ladder, I would presume?”   The stallion grinned eagerly, showing surprisingly rows of well-cared teeth, and nodded. “You presumed correctly, lad.” Then he blinked, before chuckling at what I thought was his inner joke. “Ah, you remind me of your grandfather. But where are my manners, come in, come in!”   He stepped away from the door, swinging the door fully to allow me into the completely dark and bleak insides of Class Ladder’s house. I glanced back, staring at the fidgeting butler, and the happy waving of the airheaded mare. Sighing, I returned back to the grinning Class Ladder and stepped into the house.    A wave of nausea and vertigo hit me the moment stepped through the door, and my legs buckled for a moment before I recovered quickly. “Ugh.” I winced, rubbing the spot under my horn. “What in Tartarus was that?”   Class Ladder regarded me with a curious look. “Whatever do you mean?”   I cringed, putting the hoof down. “Never mind,” I told him, shaking my head softly, and the feeling of my belly flopping on its own quickly fading away. “Forget I said anything.”   There was a ghost of a smile on his face, but I ignored it in order to look over the Class Ladder’s house. Surprisingly, unlike what I had expected, it was almost spotless. Hardwood floor nary of cluttering objects I had thought had fallen there, a long expensive sofa stood before a short wooden table, standing above a Saddle Arabian imported rug. The brown wallpapered wall were filled with photos and memorabilia of the past; in one, I could see what I assumed was a younger and dapper version of Class Ladder standing beside my grandfather, in his magical hold floated a foal bundled in blue blankets. It took a moment to register the happy looking foal was my father, and I quickly turned away to inspect other things. Against the side of the room, there was a large bookcase showing thick wordy books that I would never read by my own choice, while on the other side of the room, a staircase led to the second floor of the house. For some reason I couldn’t comprehend, I felt a strange feeling of déjà vu.   “Do you like it?”   I shrugged lightly, trotting down to the bookcase; even the books’ titles were dizzying in their own reason, and I had to turn around lest I bore my own self to sleep. “There’s too much brown, to be honest.”   He sighed, tilting his head slightly to mumble something incoherent, before he turned back to me, a crooked smile replacing his frown. “Well then, what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you, My Lord?” He bowed slightly, weakly so that I thought he was going to break his bones.   I gave him a frown, staring at him with utmost seriousness. “I think you already know why, Class Ladder.”   Ladder shrugged, moving over and plopped his flanks onto the sofa. “I’m old.” he answered with a pleased smile, as if that answered everything. “My mind wanders a lot these days. So please, enlighten me.”   Biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from doing anything I’d regret, I said, “My grandfather sent me a letter this morning. It said that I was to inherit... an illegal paramilitary organization, and that I should visit you for an explanation.”   “Aha!” he clapped his hooves together as he smiled. “I remember now! Ah,” he nodded wistfully. “Yes, I remember that old blood said he would send his heir to me.” His smile stretched as he leaned forward, and I fidgeted under his sharpened gaze. “Do you know why, Blueblood?”   I shrugged, looking away from his gaze to the photos on the wall. “I don’t know.”   “Because of all the friends Cold Blood could trust, I'm the only one alive.”   I blinked, slowly turning my gaze back at him. A question came unbidden from my mouth. “Why?”   He smiled sadly, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Hazards of the occupation, I’m afraid.” He shook his head suddenly. “But enough of that; you’re here because you need an explanation, and your grandfather sent you here so I could convince—“   “I won’t take over the organization.” I blurted out. The words went past the mouth before I could think about it.   He blinked, then he started to chuckle to himself. That chuckle became a full-blown laughter as he threw his head back; weak, gasping and rattling laughter filled the room, and I stared at the old stallion in part confusion, and part senseless and childish indignation of wanting to choke the life out of him. It would be very easy too.   “What’s so funny?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and cold like many other times I had to speak with oil-tongued and wannabe nobles.    He didn’t answer my question immediately. Ponies usually do when I asked them. But then, he was too busy laughing. It was until he was reduced to a giggling wreck, gasping for breath as he put a hoof over his chest, did he answer my question. “Oh nothing that should offend you,” he answered, finally taking a deep breath to calm the laughter in him. “You just remind me too much of your grandfather. When we first met, he told me how he also refused the same offer from his dying father; not until he was convinced, of course. But I’m sure you’re better than him.” He said the last part with a wink to me in that conspiratorial way.   I frowned at that, raising an eyebrow at him. “And he’s not?”   The uncomfortable look flitted his feature was the only thing I needed to confirm my question. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, he’s dying peacefully, isn’t he?”—the last time I had seen him, he tried to strangle the nurse attending him, I wanted to say, but kept my mouth shut—“But like I said,” he stood up from the couch. “Enough of the past; let me at least try to convince you before you make your own choice.”   “Do I even have a choice?” I asked bitterly.   “Well,” he smirked, casually walking over the table to stand in front of me. “I wouldn’t tell you that if you don’t, would I?”   He chuckled, before his mirthful face suddenly grew grim, the senility in his eyes faded into that stare I would usually see in father’s eyes, and I felt a chill shivering up to my spine. “You don’t know this, but Cerberus is a critical part of the everyday pony lives. Without Cerberus, pony would die every day. Innocent creatures cursed by their own blood will die, while the not-so innocent ones would continue their merry ways to plague the world. There would be nopony keeping those monsters in check. And the peaceful life you’ve been leading from the seconds you were born?” He smiled coldly. “You could say goodbye to that. Without Cerberus, everytime you walk down on the street, or even your abode, you will have to look over your shoulder to make sure that moving shadow is just your imagination and not some abomination seeking for food. You and all ponies will live in fear, of the shadows, of each others, and of all things. Equestria will fall into a world of darkness.” He stepped back; his vibrant green eyes chilled into my bone. “Do you take your responsibility as a Blood, and ensure that Equestria is safe, or do you refuse to take responsibility and let Equestria fall into chaos?”    I gulped, feeling a stubborn knot in my throat, my face paled into ashen white as Ladder’s words registered fully into my head. If he was telling the truth, the implication of my choice was world changing. I felt incredibly ill, my legs weak, and it was everything I could do not to buckle down and let passage to the bile forcing its way into my throat. Still, there was hope yet.   “W-what about the P-prin—“   He snorted, smiling at me in disdain, and though I knew it wasn’t meant to me, it didn’t stop me from shivering more. “Princess Celestia is not a goddess. You should know that. She’s a powerful immortal that could move the sun, but she’s neither omnipotent nor omniscient. She’s like a stalwart shield over Equestria, and it would only need a few smart thinking to strike from behind rather than to face her straight.”   Even though I tried to deny it as best as I could, I couldn’t refute his words—though I’d rather describe her as a mace ready to maul everything opposing its path, rather than a shield—; Auntie’s not a goddess. She’s powerful, but she’s not all-powerful. It hit me once more that I had to take this familiar yet distant thing called ‘responsibility’. I was not good with responsibility.   “If you are still undecided, I’ll give you an incentive,” Ladder’s voice pierced into my thought, and I felt a cold dreadful pit forming on my stomach as he continued, “do you remember the event that happened ten years ago?”   Of course, how could I not? It was the year where hundreds, if more, nobles were mysteriously spirited away. Ponies theorized the acts were done by the nobles themselves for reasons I couldn’t fathom, while some theorized it was some sort of a supernatural conspiracy. Nevertheless, it had caused chaos and fear amongst the nobles, causing them to lock themselves inside their home, trading suspicious glances, and left many colts and fillies fatherless and/or motherless.   I should know. I was one of those colts, after all.   Still, the only thing I could emit was a strangled noise of a kitten that seemed to be stuck on my throat. The cold pit of dread in my stomach worsened, and I could only nod in answer of Ladder’s question.   “Yes, you should be.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Your grandfather had almost driven himself into madness searching ways to where your father had gone, and it took several tries for me and his fellow friends to extract him out of his obsession.” He sighed, staring at an empty spot over my shoulder. “I will probably regret this, but I will say that with Cerberus behind your beck and call, you can continue what your grandfather had failed over the course of two years in order to search what had truly happened in that year.”   I blinked, and then blinked again to make sure I wasn’t going to tear up. “H-he’s not dead?”   The shrug on his shoulder deflated my hope. “I wouldn’t know. But what I do know is that knowing is better than not knowing, and beside,” he smirked. “Vengeance is a sweet thing.”   I gulped, took a deep steadying breath. I tried to use that method the professor had taught me when being forced to consider a choice. On the con side, I wouldn’t be able to return to my hedonistic lifestyle. On the pro, Equestria would stay as a safe place. On the con side, I wasn’t good in taking responsibility—my education was a proof to that. But on the pro side, I would be going to do beneficial to the society—not that I’d care—rather than sitting my flanks, listening to nobles and peasants complain daily. While on the con side, I would possibly be endangering my life and probably ponies around me. But on the pro side, I would be able to find what happened to father.   Decision was made, and I opened my mouth; barely seeing the eager and hopeful look on Ladder’s face. “I’ll—“   Then the earth shook. No, that was not an apt description. The world, the air itself, shook as a sound not unlike other exploded in the sky. We stared at each other with alarmed eyes, and I quickly rushed over to the window.   Atop the blue sky, the clouds parted and dispersed away as a ring of rainbow exploded in the sky. The sound followed soon, rattling the windows and the insides of Ladder’s house; several books and photos fell out of its nest and my ears folded on its own. A trail of rainbow soared up to the sky from the ring of rainbow; following whomever it was that had done the impossible.   We turned to share a look of disbelief. “Was that...” I trailed off, unsure how to say it.   He nodded dumbly, then his jaws hinged back into a goofy grin. “I was kidding at first, but it seems that even the sky—“   Another explosion cut him whatever he was going to say, and I watched in horror as Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns’—located in the middle of the city, a twenty minutes walk away from the Canterlot’s castle—roof exploded to let view of a gigantic bipedal, and utterly confused infant reptile.   “Or not.”   We shared another look, this time of horror, and I quickly rushed outside of the house before Ladder could say anything else that may jinx us all to Tartarus. Silver and Ditsy was there standing on the carriage’s side, staring at the gigantic and crying reptile in horror as its hands made debris flew in the sky.   “Quick!” I shouted, snapping them both as I climbed up into the carriage. “To the school!”   They both nodded; eyes wide in terror as they quickly dashed to the carriage’s front, strapping the harnesses onto their back. Not a moment later, the carriage was moving faster than it had before as my two servants galloped towards the school.   Ponies screamed in horror as we passed them, all of them running away from the school, while the weak hearted fainted on the cobblestone street, before quickly being picked up by ponies that had at least, moral decency. The carriage swerved to the left side, almost hitting a screaming pony. I looked back, and gulped in terror as the spot we had been before was sundered with a golden and dented statue of Celestia rearing on her hind-legs; the statue that was placed on the top of Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.    Guards garbed in golden-painted enchanted armor stood on the street, jaws gaping and their spears clattered on the ground as they stared at the gigantic monstrosity. Thankfully, much to my panicking mind questioning my wisdom on heading to the hub of disaster, some proper guards recovered from their shock and did what they were paid to do, helping the panicking ponies to evacuate, and picking up the unconscious ponies onto their back.   Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to file complaint to Auntie.   One of the guards idiotically jumped in front of my thundering carriage, shouting and ordering us to stop. Thankfully, Silver and Ditsy didn’t heed the guard’s probably wise advice and quickly swerved to the side, nearly grazing the poor guard’s side and most definitely implanted the irrational fear for carriages into him.   The sight of the school brought few bad memories into the fore of my mind—hours of waiting, pretending to be what they want, the absent road as the sun began to set—, but those were all shaken out as I saw the large hole atop of it, and the torso of the wailing reptile that covered it. The carriage stopped immediately, and I didn’t wait another moment to climb out of the carriage.   Debris of the school covered the mostly empty streets; few very unfortunate ponies ran out of the building, screaming with eyes wide with fear as they passed by me and the carriage. On the side of a road, I saw a guard lay unconscious on the ground; a small dent was visible on top of his helmet. On hsi side, a sword lay clattered and abandoned.   I snapped to my servants. “You two, take the guard into the carriage. Search the place for any left out ponies. I’ll go inside!”   Ditsy nodded, seeing no problem with my command. But Silver took a step forward, his eyes wide in shock. “But sir, it’s going to be dangerous!”   “Not now, Silver.” I said, before I made my way to the school, ignoring Silver’s protest of my safety. I passed the unconscious guard, and took out his sword out of its sheath, feeling the familiar handle of the sword covered in my magical grip. For once, I had another reason to be grateful for keeping my body fit.   “Sir, look up!” I skidded to a halt at Ditsy’s shouted warning, and looked up. A large debris—another statue of Celestia, the small part of my mind confirmed—was soaring down from the sky, right into my squishy flesh. I tried to move, but my legs were locked in fear despite my best effort to urge them to move. Staring at the incoming debris, I let out a small whimper—   Before I felt something impacted my side, pushing me off the ground, and sending me rolling down on the cobblestoned street, pebbles and dust stuck on my coat, making me wince and grunt until I stopped on my back. I had no doubt it was going to be Tartarus to clean them off my coat.   Opening my eyes, I saw Ditsy atop of me, her fur drenched in sweat and for a moment, I thought I saw her eyes realigned to focus like any normal ponies. “Sir,” she gasped for breath, looking tired and dazed. “You’re safe.” She stated what she thought as obvious. The overly sized reptile was still wailing like a whale on a bed said otherwise.   I glanced to the side, watching in morbid fascination as the earth I had stood before was destroyed and crushed deep with Princess Celestia’s golden statue. No doubt had Ditsy been late, I would have my name carved on a tombstone, ‘Here lies Blueblood, crushed by Celestia’ written as my epitaph.   Shaking that thought away, I gently pushed the obviously tired mare off me. “Ditsy,” I said, standing up and dusting the soot off me. She snapped her neck to me. “Thank you. Tell Silver you’re now promoted as Head Maid.”   Before she could say, or do anything to probably stop me from my foolish endeavor, I had taken the sword back in my grip and rushed into the school. As I ran through the wrecked hallways, I was glad that the school was having an examination day, where hopefuls accepted by the school would be tested upon their affinity on magic in front of stoic-faced examiners. As such, there were no fillies and colts garbed in their respective clique’s outfit running around like headless chickens.   A tile overhead fell, and I immediately stepped to the side before it could give me brain damage; the many tapestries that adorned the wall fell off its perch, and doors fell out of its hinges as the whole building shook once more. Despite my current situation, I couldn’t help but remember the years I was here. I would lean alone on the wall, smiling and waving just like they expected me to do. I would nod and grin when a professor called me to the front, even though I couldn’t answer his ridiculously hard question. I would stay last in the class when others went out to go to their homes, and asked the professors questions and I would smile and nod at their answers even though I couldn’t understand them   Just like what they expected me to be.   I shook those memories away, gritting my teeth as I let my Cutie Mark led me to my destination. There was something much more concerning than dwelling in the past then, like for example the increasingly loud wailing of a titanic-sized reptile. I came up to the double doors—the auditorium’s entry—; brightly glowing magenta lights seeped out from the doors’ creaks, and I didn’t give much thought as I turned around and bucked the doors out of their hinges.   Looking inside, I realized then, that I was too late.   In the middle of the room, in front of the tables and chairs where students would sit to listen to either a seminar or a pony from outside preaching about how great their jobs are, a filly floated in the air, twitching spastically; magenta light, pouring out magic that I had to grit my teeth from buckling down formed an orb around her. Her eyes were white and her lips parted open into a soundless scream.   Behind her, was the wailing oversized infant reptile that had filled the citizens of Canterlot with fear.   But my eyes weren’t on the filly. Well, no, my eyes were on her, just not fully on her. They were on Princess Celestia standing before the filly, her eyes closed and face scowled in concentration as her horn touched with the filly’s horn. It took me a moment that she was trying to calm the eye of the magic storm, before I had to use my sword to prevent me from falling by the magic pressure’s alone.    I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, watching as Auntie tried her damnedest to calm the raging storm that was the filly. It was quite familiar, the scene. It reminded me oddly of Sunset Shimmer’s examination day; the shaking of earth and the licking tongues of fire lashing out of her, threatening to melt the table that I, the examiners, and other students hid behind before Auntie Tia arrived to save the day.   I think that was the main reason why the school decided to examine the hopefuls one by one. How it repeated once more, twice as worse than before, I didn’t know. But it was probably on the faculty’s back.   A spark of purple thunder lashed against me, but it fortunately only singed the tile before me. But it was too close. Too, very close. Once more, I questioned the sanity of my mind for charging into the eye of the storm like a fool.   Any thoughts died as the Princess suddenly pulled her horn back, and for a moment—no thanks to my earlier talk with Class Ladder—I thought she had failed trying to save the filly, and was considering a more drastic method to stop her. Thankfully, my thought was for naught as a smile graced her face, her golden-shod hoof reached up to tap the filly’s back.   The effect was immediate. She blinked, and then blinked again, the light on her eyes receding back into purple pupils, and her screaming lips closed. The lashing magic slowly dissipated; the oversized wailing reptile suddenly returned to its original size, and I realized it was a baby dragon instead of a giant reptile. How there was even a dragon in the room, I blamed the faculty once more.   The flowerpot and cactus beside the filly flashed purple and a pair of unicorns—probably the filly’s parents—replaced the plants, looking rightfully disoriented. On the back of the, I watched as four flowerpots were replaced by the shocked and fearful examiners, though the fearful expression vanished when they realized there was the Princess in the room.   I gulped. That could’ve been me, even if only momentary.   The filly flashed purple, and then she was standing on the floor, her eyes wide as she took in the room around her. Then she looked at the princess around her, squirmed under her gaze and then bowed before her and I saw tears leaking from her ears; a stark difference to the magical transmutation machine that was a moment ago. “I-I’m s-sorry—I-I didn’t mean to, Prince—“   The motherly trademarked smile was on her face as Auntie placed a hoof over the filly’s shoulder, snapping the filly’s already frazzled thought. I couldn’t help but blink at the similarity with that event with Sunset years ago. “It’s alright, I’m sure the place could be fixed up. But I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever come across a Unicorn with your raw ability!”   The filly blinked, raising her head to meet Auntie’s eyes. “Huh?”   She nodded, happy to herself, and I knew where she was going with it. I supposed, right then, it was about time she moved on from Sunset Shimmer. “Yes. In fact,” she spread her leg towards the mostly destroyed room. “I would like to make you my own personal protégé in this school.”   The filly blinked, then blinked again, and this time, a large grin accompanied with it. “Yes!” she ecstatically jumped in the air, and I thought that it would be pretty depressing when she saw the damage outside from her magical outburst.   “But.”   The filly blinked again, the joy vanished and replaced with trepidation. “More?”   Auntie pointed at the filly’s rumps, and I only noticed now the starburst mark that adorned her previously bare flanks. And then the filly did what any foals would do when they received their cutie marks: They jump around in joy.   I cleared my throat, and Auntie blinked, before turning to me. The rest of the ponies in room didn’t seem to notice me, while the examiners seemed happy hiding behind the tables. “Blueblood?” she asked, surprised as she approached me. “What are you doing here?”   Despite the two very life threatening hazards that nearly happened minutes before, and the fact that I would be towed away for treason if she knew what had happened earlier in this morning, I couldn’t help but crack a smile, standing up straight despite the tiredness that followed after the fading adrenaline. “Isn’t today just a good day?” I said, smiling tiredly, despite the fact that no, it wasn’t a good day.   She frowned, and I supposed I should’ve expected that. But I was just so tired that I didn’t care about it anymore. She touched my forehead with her fetlock. “Are you feeling fine, Blueblood?”   “Heh.” I chuckled, completely using the sword to lean my weight. “Just peachy, Auntie.”   I felt her wing wrapped around me. It reminded me the time I had used it to sob my eyes out, hearing her soft cooing into my ears. I looked up at her, watching her frown harder. “I think you need a rest, Blueblood.”   “Ah, y-yeah,” I nodded shakily. “I think you’re right.”   “Can you move by your own?” she asked, leading me to the overly happy hopping filly. “I could fly you home if you can’t.” She offered.   “Auntie,” I gasped in mock-anger. “Can you imagine the scandal it would cause over the newspaper if you do that?!”   She smirked, the wing around me tightened, and I felt her warmth soothing my inside. “Yes. Yes, I suppose you’re right.”   I hummed, nodding to her assent. Even if it was a jest, I could already picture the headline on first page of Canterlot Daily ‘Nephew Riding the Princess!? Scandal in the Royal Family?!’ or something along the same line. “I already have a carriage waiting for me outside.”   She nodded; before her head reached down to nuzzle me. I blushed at the intimate gesture. Even if we had done it several times, it was another thing to do it in public, however small said public was. “Be more careful with yourself, Blueblood.” I heard her whisper into my ear as she parted away.   I offered her a small smile. “I’ll try, Auntie, I’ll try.”   She hummed, and almost seemingly hesitantly—which I was sure, was just my imagination—pulled the wing back into her side. “Yes, you do that, Nephew.”   I smiled, before I turned around. It was now, adrenaline gone, did I feel the soreness and pain on my legs, and I would’ve stumbled to the floor were it not for the sword I had used as a makeshift crutch. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Auntie!” I called over, before I left the room, completely beyond exhaustion. I exhaled a deep breath, taking over to look at the destroyed hallway that would probably need a few days of renovations.   I shrugged, making my way to the exit; the tip of the blade clinked against the floor for each step I took. Once, I had almost slipped, and I probably would’ve if not for the wall I had leaned on. The carriage was there as I expected where it would be as I stepped out of the school.   Ditsy looked tired, ragged, her previously pristine mane was now covered in debris dusts, her headdress gone, and parts of her uniform was shred. Were it not for the grim situation of the wrecked street, I would’ve thought it be alluring.   Silver Tray stood by her side, his face stoic and cold. He regarded me with a stare, and I winced. I was going to hear a mouthful from him later, I’d know. Or probably now, I thought bitterly, as I reached to them; his mouth open to chide me of my foolishness.   “Not now, Silver.” I said as I passed by him, and carefully climbed up to the carriage. The previously unconscious guard was sitting on the chair, looking slightly dazed, but awake. “Get out.” I told him.   He blinked, and then blinked again as he recognized who I am. “Y-yes, My Prince!” he stuttered drunkenly with a sloppy salute that would’ve made Ditsy thousands better than him, before rushing out and falling down off the carriage.   I scoffed, tossing the sword away through the window. I heard him yelp. That was good, I didn’t accidentally kill him. “Back to the Mansion!” I shouted, and the carriage began to move as Ditsy and Silver pulled it.   I sighed, staring up at the red ceiling. Despite the bumpy ride from the pebbles and debris, I closed my eyes to sleep.   ()_()_()   The door to my bedroom slammed shut as I stumbled inside. My coat stank with body odor, matted with dried sweat, and covered in sticking gray dusts I had collected. It was still morning, probably afternoon, yet I felt like I had gone through three days without a wink of sleep.   I considered taking a bath, a shower, anything to clean me up, but that was dashed away as my eyes fell to the soft, well-made bed. Sluggishly, I moved, eyelids drooping even with the pain from my legs with every step I took. When I reached the bed, I considered to just plop myself; I didn’t even have to climb up, just plop my head, and the soreness would be future Blueblood’s problem.   Before I could, however, I noted the piece of scroll on the edge of the bed. I looked up immediately to the window; no letters were to be send to me unless it was under Silver’s confirmation. To my dismay, I found it slightly open. I groaned, not caring as I levitated the scroll to my view and ripped the seal off, my blue aura was the only thing that made me able to read the content:   Dear Blueblood,   I know our meeting was cut short by certain... interruption. And I hopefully that you were going to answer ‘Yes, I’ll take over Cerberus’ before we were interrupted. Regardless, if you don’t, you could stop reading this. If you do, please don’t stop reading this.    I’m going to keep this short. As per tradition, I want you to pick a city as your ‘base’, so to speak. Yes, that means you have to move away. Your grandfather took his base on Trottingham, for your information. I recommend you to pick either Detrot, for easy recruitments, or that new small town near Canterlot, Ponyville. Take your pick. Each of them has their own advantages and disadvantageous.   Second, you need to take several advisors to help you lead Cerberus: Diplomacy, Martial, Magic, Research, Intrigue, and Stewardship. I’d take up for the Intrigue advisor as I did when I was working with your grandfather. I still got some years in me, enough for me to search for a good and loyal replacement. You can also set up an interview—in secret, of course—among my many connections if you don’t know who to pick as the position. Alternatively, you could also control one of the departments, if you’re sure you could handle it. Also, a bit late and hypocritical, but you might want to choose somepony you could trust your life with, to be your advisor. Your tentative friend -Class Ladder   I twitched as I finished reading the damn thing. I stared at the blue sky over the window, and reached over the curtain to close it. Giving the scroll one more look, I rolled it back, and put on the nightstand, before I promptly collapsed onto the bed.   I’ll deal with that when I’m awake.