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// 1 - How to Make Friends (And Cause a Magical Mishap) 
// Story: Arcane Realms 
// by Prane 
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Whether it’s better to be feared or loved was a question that every school teacher had to ask themselves at some point of their career. Some embraced the more benevolent side of their profession and did their utmost to convince the students to the joys of learning, while others reveled in keeping them at the edge of their seats dreading the thought of yet another unexpected quiz. Every school had its tyrants and guardian angels among the staff, both very much needed throughout the semesters of educational endeavors.

Then there were those who couldn’t truly settle for either of these roles despite having forty-something years of work experience.

“…which brings us back to where we started,” Professor Inkwell said, her horn glowing as she sent a piece of chalk to the blackboard. One by one, she underlined the important names and keywords all connected by the common concept of magic. “Prospearo’s weather experiments. Gancalf the Grey and the Fellowship of Harmony. Star Swirl the Bearded and his organized, almost scientific approach. As you can see, the pre-classical era is full of figures who helped us understand the phenomenon of magic on which we continue to rely in our everyday lives.”

She pressed a pair of glasses to her face and looked at the clock, a pentagonal piece of junk.

“We still have some time, but not enough to even scratch the surface of the classical era, so we’ll do something different. Your curriculum expects us to keep to the chronological order at all times, but since it’s been written by someone as savvy as my husband’s fat blowfish, I feel morally obliged to keep you entertained until the break, my way.”

The remark elicited only a few chuckles across the classroom, as everyone was still busy adding boxes and colorful exclamation marks to their notes. Like all students three weeks into their first year, they still cared about the look of their notebooks. They also still had separate notebooks for each subject, Introduction to Spellcasting included.

Professor Inkwell sat up in her chair. “Let’s leave those fossils for now and talk about the modern era,” she said. “Who can tell me the name of a pony whose studies in the field of social interactions led to discovering a new branch of magic? Any ideas? Anyone?”

A chubby changeling sitting just before Spike raised his hoof. “Uh, Princess Celestia?”

“Not entirely,” Professor Inkwell replied. “She’s documented close to seventy spells and has been involved in a couple of important events in the history of pony magic, but we’ll be talking about her on a separate lesson. But, good thinking! The pony in question definitely shares a common trait with Princess Celestia.”

“Is it Princess Luna?” an elegant filly asked.

“It is not Princess Luna. She’s unmatched in the magic of dreams, but that’s not it.”

The correct answer came from the absolute side of the classroom, delivered by a griffon girl of snow-white feathers, graphite coat and a voice so soothing it made you think you were listening to a lullaby. She appeared a bit detached from the reality, like she was daydreaming adrift.

“I believe you want to tell us about Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Professor Inkwell unleashed a furious chalk assault on the blackboard. “Twi… light. Spar… kle. Ha! Thank you, Glavia,” she said and pointed to the list of names. “Unlike all these, Princess Twilight Sparkle is very much alive, which is why you should find her interesting in the first place. Born here in Canterlot in 1181, and currently residing in a village called Ponyville, she is most known for creating, or rather discovering the magic of friendship in 1201. It is one of those branches we are yet to fully understand, but various studies have shown that the arcane field is affected differently depending on the relationship of any two individuals. If they are friends, or close acquaintances, the streams of magic between them align spontaneously.”

“Like they do in the presence of a crystal pony?” someone inquired.

“Very good!” Professor Inkwell replied. “Ah, that reminds me of your homework for Monday. I would like you to choose a race other than your own and write a one-page essay on how they use magic. You should also include at least one example of a spellcaster hailing from that race who lived in the pre-classical era. In the spirit of the magic of friendship, a good way to start would be to ask your colleagues about how they cast their spells. For Monday!”

Neither Spike nor anyone else moaned, groaned, or otherwise expressed their disapproval, as they had already learned to treat homework as a natural part of life. Rumor has it that Professor Inkwell was once so impressed by one of her students that she let the entire class go without any additional task, but so far the other rumor stating she got the scar over her eye when she was riding a griffon to fight a dragon was much more believable.

The old mare helped herself to a handful of nuts she kept in her desk. “Now, back to the topic at hoof. The thing with crystal ponies is that they cannot cast spells on their own. However, their crystalline bodies, their very presence harmonizes the arcane field around them. Hence it’s always a good idea to bring a crystal pony when several casters are tapping into the streams of magic at the same time. It’s also much easier than making sure they all like each other,” she said. “A question, yes? Silk?”

It was that elegant filly again. “Is it true that you taught Princess Twilight?”

“Indeed it is,” Professor Inkwell replied. “Yes, I’m that old, don’t look so surprised! For those of you who don’t know, or simply haven’t visited the eastern wing yet, Princess Twilight also attended this school. She is one of our most distinguished graduates.”

“Why is that?” a cornflower-coated filly sitting by the window asked.

“If you want to ask a question, Miss Lulamoon, please think about raising your hoof first!”

Her hoof shot straight up.

“Yes?”

“Professor, you’ve said Princess Twilight is one of your most distinguished graduates. How can she be one of them, and not the one? My mom told me that she wasn’t born an alicorn, but she became one when she discovered the magic of friendship. How could anypony come even close to such awesomeness?”

Spike chuckled inwardly. Every now and then since he came back to Equestria he was reminded how different was his perception of Twilight from anyone else’s. She was recognized and admired by many, but they could only see her through the prism of her achievements and virtues, sometimes talking about her like she wasn’t even a real pony, but some archetype to follow. For Spike—who had accompanied her at various stages of her life and witnessed both her highs and lows—she was definitely real, and learning about this new, half-legendary Twilight Sparkle was amusing in itself.

Professor Inkwell stood up and engaged in a trip around the classroom.

“Yes, it is true that Princess Twilight’s arcane aptitude surpasses that of an average spellcaster, and that this school has been always putting an emphasis on teaching magic. However, you do have other courses, I’m sure far more interesting than mine, don’t you? Over the years, we’ve educated the ponies whose talents flourished, but were not necessarily related to magic itself,” she said. “Take Lyra Heartstrings, for example, a mare who graduated the same time Twilight Sparkle did. She wasn’t known for her magical skills, or the number of spells she could cast, no. Instead, she was really good with string instruments and had outstanding vocal capabilities. It’s a wonder she didn’t go professional, I tell you!”

Spike snickered. He actually remembered Lyra from her Thursday performances at the Ponyville Choir. Their interpretations of The Princess Shall Rejoice and other Homecoming Anthems composed in honor of Princess Luna always brought a tear to his eye, even if he was quick to deny it.

“Talent comes in many forms,” Professor Inkwell continued. “You can’t really compare those, just like you can’t compare two cutie marks in terms of one being better than the other. This is why I consider many exceptional individuals our most distinguished graduates, each in their own field. Does that answer your question, Miss Lulamoon?”

When the filly shook her head, the midday sunlight brought to mind orange peels thrown amidst the amber flames of a bonfire that constituted her messy mane. “Not entirely. I understand that there can be many talented ponies, but I wonder if there was ever somepony as good in magic as Princess Twilight when she wasn’t the alicorn yet?”

The bell announcing the break resounded, but much like the students hadn’t lingered about their homework before, they didn’t dare to move now. They all remembered to rely on their teacher’s word and not the bell when it came to finishing the lesson, and some of them, Spike included, eagerly awaited the answer.

Professor Inkwell stopped by the window. She sighed and squinted as if she was trying to spot something in the distance that was no longer there. “No,” she said. “There has never been a graduate in my time who could match Twilight Sparkle in magic.” She turned back. “Class dismissed! Try to remember about your homework over the weekend. If we get past the theory soon enough we’ll do some real spellcasting next month, starting with the telekinesis spell!”

In the general commotion which arose, Silk’s haughtily sophisticated tone sounded over the crowd. “But, Professor! We can all use our telekinesis already, and most of us know a variety of spells. Do we really have to start with such trivialities?”

The mare fell to her chair and reached her drawer for more nuts. “Yes, because you’re young and I’m stubborn. Now off you go!”

A seemingly endless stream of students flooded the corridors, but Spike had no trouble navigating through. He headed outside and back to his dormitory, a three-storey building which was slowly becoming his home. His roommate, a third-grader houndrel named Achares who was a bit of a neat freak wasn’t there, so Spike dropped his bag by the bed—neatly—and left the dormitory as well. Since he couldn’t really say he had gotten to know Achares, or anyone else at school, he usually spent his leisure time strolling around Canterlot alone. In fact, it seemed the gifted individuals of all races had trouble integrating. Outside of classes griffons stood apart, houndrels sought other houndrels, and changelings sort of disappeared, most likely transforming into ponies to avoid being left out. Luckily, there was no interracial tension amongst the students, as most of them cared more about themselves rather than making the life of someone else a misery.

Most didn’t mean all, and Spike experienced it first-hand the moment he turned around the shadowy corner of the building.

Silk Stocking had it all. She was rich, talented, and pretty, and was fourteenth in line to the throne of Equestria because of her father, Prince Blueblood. Above that, she was awfully self-centered and did not respond well to anything that could harm her reputation of Miss Perfect. Fate, it seemed, was not without a wicked sense of irony, and had Silk cross paths with none other than Razzle Lulamoon, a filly who for some reason always ended in the epicenter of unfortunate events wherever she went. On the first week, she spilled cranberry juice on Silk’s ridiculously expensive Coco Pommel dress. On the second, she tripped over a ball and pulled Silk into a muddy puddle during a PE class. Last Wednesday she dared to know the answer to the question addressed to Silk, and being a hot-headed individual she made the other filly look ignorant in comparison.

Not even a month into the semester, Silk had declared Razzle her sworn archenemy, and right now the tension seemed to escalate as the two fillies clashed in a fierce staredown.

“You just don’t get it, do you, Matchhead?” Silk said. “If you don’t start behaving I can make your life really uncomfortable.”

Razzle took a step forward. With the slim and supermodel-like Silk standing next to her she appeared pretty petite, but that didn’t stop her from raising to the tips of her hooves and glaring at the other unicorn.

“Try me.”

Spike sighed. Had he been a dragon from the Dominion, he’d walk away. It wasn’t the matter of his lair, his wealth, or his family, so why would he care? He played with the garnet ring on his claw. Unfortunately for him, he was a dragon from Equestria where you were supposed to care for others, so at times like these he tended to ask himself one thing.

What would Twilight Sparkle do?

“Hey, do you think you could tone it down a bit? The weekend just started, so why the hostility?”

Silk scowled at him menacingly. “This doesn’t concern you, Spike. Walk away.”

“Yeah!” Razzle added with an equally mortifying gaze of her own. “I can handle this prissy missy on my own, thanks!”

“Prissy missy? Why, you—”

A chilling shade of blue engulfed Silk’s horn, but Razzle was faster. She conjured several colorful flickers which resembled miniature fireworks that didn’t fly high, but instead burst out all around Silk. The filly closed her eyes and took an angry step towards Razzle who had her hind leg already stretched out. Silk tripped, cried out, and landed head first in an untrimmed beautyberry shrub. The ligneous stems were merciless, and when Silk unstuck herself and ran her hoof along her disaster of a hairdo, she was almost in tears. She straightened up, sharing daggers in her eyes between Razzle and Spike who chose not to get involved, as so cordially requested.

“My father will hear about this!” Silk shouted and galloped away, nearly trampling some bulky unicorn as she was taking the corner.

Spike turned to Razzle. “So, what was that all about?”

“Oh, you know. The usual,” she replied, dispersing the aura around her horn. “Silk Sock thinks I’ve mentioned my mom and Princess Twilight Sparkle because I wanted to show off in front of the class. I guess since she can’t really invite any of the Princesses to her piano recitals or whatever her kind does, she wanted to vent her frustration on me. So I told her to get lost, she told me to watch my mouth and, well, you saw the rest.”

“What a hypocrite. Nice fireworks, by the way.”

Unmoved by the compliment, Razzle replied plainly, “I guess they were alright.”

The longer they stood in silence while avoiding each other’s eyes, the more awkward it got. Truth be told, Spike didn’t have such an elaborate conversation with anyone since day one. It took him a moment to remember he was no longer among the dragons where he was supposed to stay put and listen to those older and wiser. He was in Equestria where it was perfectly fine to wish a complete stranger a nice day.

Too bad he was so out of practice.

“So… yeah.”

“So, I better go,” Razzle said. “I’ve got a thing to do at the library. See you on Monday?”

“Mhm, see you. Oh, and it was, uh, really nice talking to you!”

By Celestia’s drizzled mane, he was rustier than a merpony’s colander. That was so lousy even pre-Ponyville Twilight would be able to teach him a lesson about making friends. He shook the vision of babbling Twilight off his head. Here and now, he was the only dragon at school, and since he was slightly older than the rest of his class he didn’t have anyone to whom he could relate. At least this Razzle Lulamoon was a somewhat familiar name. Besides, he could really use someone—anyone—for the upcoming group project Professor Little Tale had mentioned yesterday.

“Hey, you know what? I’m in no rush today. I can come with you if you want. You know, in case Silk Stocking tried something funny.”

”I don’t need a protector,” Razzle replied as she was leaving. “I can handle whatever dim-witted insult she’ll come up with next.”

Spike caught up to the filly and grinned. “Oh, I have no doubt about that. I’m actually worried about myself. If she’s picking on others just because they know Princess Twilight then I better stick with you,” he said, stretching out his claws. “I’m Spike, by the way.”

Razzle looked up at him, a towering dragon tall enough she could ride on his back. Spike knew playing the oppressed classmate card was a stretch, but when the filly snickered he responded in kind to hide his relief. After how his last meeting with Twilight went he was afraid the crude ridges of the Dominion had bereaved him of his natural charm.

“Razzle. Razzle Lulamoon,” she replied. “Nice to meet you, Spike.”

“Likewise. So, where did you say you were going?”

Razzle’s eyes shined.

“The Archives!”

They sauntered towards the bulgy towers squeezed between the campus and the Royal Castle, exchanging silly jokes about Silk, as sharing the common enemy once again proved to be the ultimate icebreaker. Spike remembered that some of the towers, like Star Swirl the Bearded wing used to have pretty tight security, but since the School expanded its educational offer, the entire Archives had been revamped. The ancient grimoires and one-of-a-kind spell scrolls were transferred to a safer place, and the vast libraries opened to the mundane needs of the students and their homework. Going up the staircase without a Royal Guard every three steps made the wing more welcoming, but Spike was glad that certain things—like the smell of knowledge he had not appreciated in his youth, or the massive, enchanted hourglass occupying the middle of the top floor—remained the same.

When Spike and Razzle entered the library, a chunky pegasus of average looks approached them. Spike didn’t know him, but a single glance was all it took to know he was a librarian to the bone. He had the bearing of somepony who had spent a rather impressive portion of his life sorting through dusty tomes, and would most likely have all of them stand neatly on their respective shelves, undisturbed for the next thousand years or so.

“Greetings, students,” he said, taking out round spectacles of his brown and beige vest. “Looking for something specific?”

Razzle nodded. “We are. We’re interested in yearbooks dating thirty to a hundred years back, maybe older. Is this the right floor?”

“Certainly,” the librarian replied, showing them to follow him. “You first graders must be working on some history project, eh? I’ve just given the two most recent volumes to another student, but the rest is at your disposal,” he said, flying up the bookcase from which he passed a tome to Spike. “I suggest you start with this one. Please return any books you’re done reading to the trolley. I can take them from there.”

With the weighty reading material in their possession, Spike and Razzle sat at one of the tables separating the middle of the room from the rows of bookcases. He noticed that the book was emblazoned with the old crest of the School, a prancing unicorn under a shooting star drawn into a laurel wreath.

“Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns Yearbook Collection, 1150-1169. What exactly are you looking for, anyway?”

“Some answers,” Razzle said. “Professor Inkwell said that there hasn’t been a pony in her time who could match Princess Twilight.”

“She did. Your point?”

“Well, what does it even mean, ‘in my time’? That’s a pretty odd phrasing, even for a—” Razzle looked around and covered the side of her muzzle. “Even for a cranky old mare like her. It’s almost like there was somepony before her times about whom she didn’t want to tell us.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“That’s the puzzle!” Razzle replied. “I intend to try and solve it.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t think you can find a more magical pony than Twilight in her youth. There’s been a couple of unicorn troublemakers along the way, sure, but they were no match for her. She’s just, well, how to put it?” Spike froze as he searched for proper words, but he ultimately gave up and shrugged. “She’s Twilight Sparkle.”

“So what? It’s the thrill of following the trail that counts!”

“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Razzle said. “This might as well be a fool’s errand, and I blame all those stories I’ve heard as a foal for going on it. I always liked the idea of exploring the unknown like all those adventurers, you know. When I grow up, I want to travel around Equestria and beyond, visit faraway cities, uncover their secrets and meet all kinds of ponies. I want to be independent, maybe have a traveling wagon and go wherever I want, whenever I want.”

“Do you also want to become, say, the greatest unicorn who has ever lived along the way?”

Razzle raised an eyebrow. “Where in Equestria did you get that idea? No, my mom always says that true greatness comes not from your achievements, but from dedicating yourself to what you love doing. And I do love a good mystery! Come on, aren’t you curious? Just imagine, a unicorn better in magic than Princess Twilight Sparkle herself!”

A bittersweet realization struck Spike. Was this really happening all over again? He had spent his early years wandering the school grounds, visiting libraries, and handing books to a unicorn studying magic. Today, many years later, he was once again wandering the school grounds, visiting libraries, and handing books to a unicorn studying magic, only that this time she happened to be less of a bookworm and more of a swaggering daredevil. That was enough to appreciate the change, especially since he got promoted from a helper to a co-learner, even if his scope of responsibilities still revolved around writing things down.

Razzle was skimming through the book. “I have the first candidate. Radiant Dust, the class of 1152. Eight accolades, the Sapphire Star of Aptitude included. Hmm. Princess Twilight had ten, but that’s close enough,” she said. “You know her, right? What is she like?”

“Twilight? Well, she’s smart, talented, a great organizer, too. Uh, she also likes red balloons over any other color for some reason. Oh, and it’s better not to approach her when she’s busy reading, stargazing, or trying out new spells. She bursts in flames when she’s angry, like, literally,” Spike said. “Most importantly, though, she’s a good friend, and she cares about those close to her. Why do you ask?”

“It’ll sound silly, but she’s one of those heroes from my bedtime stories. Mom’s favorite, I suppose. It wasn’t until I was older when I realized that she’s an actual pony, and not a made-up character. Even then, I couldn’t believe those things happened for real, like how the Spirit of Chaos, Discord changed Equestria into a crazy realm for a day, or how that Tirek guy tried to steal magic from us,” Razzle said. “Sour Grape, 1162. Nine accolades. You’re noting down the years, right? They may come in handy later.”

Dipping the hawk quill in a vial of pricey violet ink, Spike nodded. “Eleven sixty-two, got it. Yes, it’s true that Twilight’s been involved in quite a lot of flashy events back in the days. Speaking of which, that spell you treated Silk with. Did your mother teach you that?”

Razzle glanced at her cutie mark, a firework exploding over a crescent moon, slightly darker than the color of her coat. “She showed me the basic pattern, but I brought it further on my own. Now I can conjure those fireflies faster than anyone else, well, at least faster than anyone I’ve met so far, but they are not very powerful explosions at all. It’s more of an eye-catching trick than an actual, useful spell,” she said. “Hey, how did you know my mom can cast stuff like that? She’s not normally using magic in her plays.”

Spike hesitated. He remembered the fireworks display from a diplomatic event that occurred the same day a certain mad mare took over for a day, but he decided to play it safe for the sake of the filly. He wondered if Trixie told her family about her inglorious past.

“I saw her show in Ponyville once, many years ago.”

“Hmm, Ponyville. Ponyville. I think she mentioned it. Is that the place where she had to run from an ursa?”

“Yup, that’s the one. That space bear was as tall as a barn. It came from the Everfree Forest and rampaged all over the town.”

Razzle halted her search. “Must have been quite a view,” she said, crossing her forelegs on her chest. She sighed. “Eh, I feel I was born too late. Every cool thing of this century has already happened, and I’ll have to wait another thousand years for anything exciting to take place again, but, whatever. You can add Coral Mist of 1168 to the list. Eight accolades, and also the winner of the Capricious Comet Contest. Hmm. I didn’t know we had talent shows around here. Interesting.”

“Coral Mist,” Spike acknowledged. “I wouldn’t worry much if I were you. It’s true that a lot of great things happened when I was your age, maybe even younger, but that doesn’t mean nothing else ever will. It may not be as spectacular as what Twilight and the Element Bearers had to go through, but this is the magical land of Equestria we’re talking about, after all. You’ll get your grand adventure one day, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, I hope you’re right. It’s just… my mom had the luck of meeting Princess Celestia when she was just a filly. You are friends with Princess Twilight. I bet one letter is all you need to have Princess Cadance organize a feast in your honor. That crystal statue of yours, by the way? They made you look fat,” Razzle said. “Everyone I know either is, or knows someone important, someone who did great things. Compared to their stories my life is pretty boring. It’s so predictable and shipshape it’s driving me crazy sometimes.”

“It’s not easy to have famous parents, is it?”

“Mhm. I dream of adventure, but the best I can get is a garden party hosted by a fancy-pants ambassador and his wife. I mean, it was alright for a Canterlot Elite thing, but that’s not really where I see myself.” She closed the book and climbed up her chair, scanning the work zone of the library. “Alright, we’re done with this one. I wonder if the guy reading the—oh, come on.”

“Is it Silk?” Spike asked, turning in his chair. He noticed a nearly identical tome to the one they had been reading a couple tables away. “Oh, that’s the girl from our class. What’s her name? G-something?”

Razzle rolled her eyes. “All griffons have their names starting with a ‘G’, G-Genius.”

“Alright, so you have your book. It looks like she’s not using it right now.” He turned back to see the filly sinking behind the edge of the table, squinting at the griffon. “Razzle?”

“She’s so strange,” she replied, her voice taking a conspiratorial tone. “Come on, you know what I’m talking about. She always sits alone in the classes, she doesn’t talk to others, she’s not living in the dormitories like the rest of us. After school she either goes to the library or flies straight back to the city. She’s hiding something, I tell you.”

“Maybe she has a reason. I don’t see a problem with that. Besides, until today I wasn’t really talking to others either.”

“Yes, but you’re you, and she’s strange!”

Spike sighed. It really was happening all over again. What was wrong with the young unicorns that they got so awkward around the others? Dragons laughed at their petty problems and their general lack of competence. As hulking combinations of scales and fire, they never shunned talking to each other, and even if they weren’t particularly fond of someone they remained respectful in their approach, just like the approached party was expected a certain degree of hospitality. Losing at this game of appearances could lead to being branded weak—a terrible strategy of wooing the females—and the first thing Spike learned in the Dominion was that in life there was no place for pitying the weak. Only the power mattered, and those who wielded it.

No. He had gone too far in his reasoning. He quickly twisted the ring around his claw a couple times. Razzle wasn’t weak, she just needed someone to guide her. Where’s Twilight and her expert supportive attitude when you needed it?

“Razzle, listen. You said it yourself you want to travel around the world. I bet that G-what’s-her-name is from the Griffon Kingdom, so if you talk to her now and make friends then maybe she’ll invite you to come over. Isn’t that what you want? To visit faraway lands?”

“This is all true, but I also said I wanted to visit them after I finish school, right? Ha! Checkmate!”

“Alright, so you’re telling me you’re satisfied with just three names for your research?”

“It’s not like I need them today,” Razzle replied with a shrug.

Spike planted his head on the table.

“I give up.”

After a while of contemplating whether it was worth to suffer through the antics of the first grade, Spike felt a nudge.

“I was just wondering,” Razzle said. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with your chair? They’re not meant for someone as big as you. I imagine sitting on them feels terrible, and worse, you can get a serious defect of posture. Look, you’re already slouching! You should stretch out a bit, maybe even take a short walk.”

“You just want me to go get the book for you.”

“Me? No, not at all!” she replied, acting out her surprise quite convincingly. “But now that you mentioned it, then sure, why not. If it’s not too much of a hassle, that is.”

Spike unstuck his forehead from the table and saw Razzle casually inspecting her hoof. “You’re impossible,” he said and straightened up. “All right, but just this once, and you owe me. I’m not your assistant, you know.”

Razzle, the embodiment of juvenile innocence, beamed. “Thank you!”

The hourglass displayed on a stump-like stand reminded Spike of Twilight’s time travel incident. It was a fateful Tuesday, not because of his friend acting in, well, Twilight sort of way, but because he got a nasty stomach ache after his ice cream binge. He shuddered at the mere thought of it. Past Spike was not a smart guy.

“Hi there!” he said as he reached the other side of the work zone. “Your name is Gilda, right?”

The griffon girl swept her feathery fringe off her forehead. Just like earlier in the classroom, her voice wasn’t very daunting. “No, it’s actually Glavia. But don’t worry, I know how confusing it is. I’ve been called at least a dozen different names already. Gilda’s new, but I like it,” she said, smiling gently. “And you are Spike.”

“Right I am!” he replied, wondering how someone could be so—for lack of a better word—pure, especially compared to the unicorn who pretended she wasn’t watching. “Listen, my friend and I need that book you have here, the seventies-eighties one. Are you still using it?”

Glavia moved a peculiar, triangular satchel away, then pushed the tome towards Spike.

“No, not at all. I won’t be using it any longer.”

“Thanks. What were you looking for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do not mind,” she said, showing Spike the outstanding calligraphy of her list of names. “It’s just some personal project about griffon teachers. This school had quite a flock of them, you know. The yearbooks have their short bios, like when they came to Canterlot and from where they hailed. I’m checking if there are any names I should know.”

“Okay, good luck with your research, then, and see you around!”

The glaciers of the world once again melted the moment Glavia smiled. “Fair winds to you, Spike. It has been a pleasure.”

When Spike returned to his table he found Razzle with her horn lightened up. She was holding the quill with a tight grip of her magic, but the shimmering aura seemed to be on the edge of disappearing, like a light bulb about to give its last. Maintaining the spell required an unusual deal of concentration of the filly, so when Spike put the book down thus disrupting the delicate balance, the quill was immediately released from the grip.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Razzle replied, frantically smoothing the barbs which got ruffled by her magic. Her hooves were shivering. “Oh, hey! You got the book! That’s great!”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine. It’s a fine day, I’m doing research, you got the book. How could I not be fine?”

Spike moved his chair closer to the table and leaned towards Razzle. “Well, you do seem nervous. Your horn was shining brightly, so the attunement was legitimate. You got your patterns right, and the spell idea was obviously correct, but your magic wasn’t holding. All it took to disturb it was me and the book, and I wasn’t even directly affecting the arcane field,” Spike said, glad that he had the general theory of magic already covered. For once, he was the smarter one. “I can tell a distracted unicorn when I see one, believe me. So, what’s troubling you?”

Razzle was reluctant to answer at first. When she spoke, the tone of her voice was devoid of its usual confidence.

“My telekinesis sucks,” she admitted. “Surprised? Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. How could anyone so terrible at the most basic of spells get into such a prestigious school? It’s the first thing most unicorns learn, right?” She sighed, playing the quill between her hooves. “Well, I’m not most unicorns, and like Professor Inkwell said today, talent comes in many forms. I’m good at bending light and conjuring those fireworks, but telekinesis, it’s so… I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I can’t do it. It just doesn’t come naturally to me,” she said. “Out of twenty, thirty attempts I can lift ten teacups, but I’ll crush eight or nine of those before my first sip. Bigger stuff? Forget it. I can’t even get my bag moving.”

Spike listened patiently, then nodded.

“You know, I had trouble with my telekinetic grip too,” he said. “There was this dragon I met, Manaskalos, a really interesting guy, but also very demanding. I guess you could call him my first truly involved magic teacher. One day he took me to the Combustion, which is like a really hot place even for us, dragons. Lava fonts, clouds of ash, you get the picture. So, he showed me this beautiful gemstone, a garnet the size of the coconut. No kidding, it really was that big! He showed me the gem, then threw it away, like from here to the exit. He then, uh, stepped on me.”

“He did what?”

Spike giggled as the filly’s wide open jaw crooked in a grin of disbelief. “He actually did! He said the gem would be mine if I could reach it, and I could only do that with magic. So I tapped into the streams, my face deep in gravel, and tried to burn the trail between myself and the gem, but I kept coming too close or too far away. It was like casting a fishing rod.”

“Yeah, with a dragon on your back!”

“A minor inconvenience,” Spike said, remembering some of his other, even more draconic trials. “The heat was unbearable and I was starving after skipping a couple of meals, but the gem looked so enticing. Manaskalos said that the most certain way to cast a spell is not about the right pattern, or the right amount of magic. It’s about our desire to accomplish something we normally couldn’t, about dedicating ourselves wholeheartedly to what we want the most. Perhaps it’ll work in your case as well.”

“If you want to step on me, then you should know I bite.”

Spike shook his head. “I’m not going to step on you!” he said, then moved the book closer to his end of the table. “I’ll just put it here and dare you to take it from me. No hooves.”

Razzle’s ears perked up.

“You’re on!”

A thin aura the color of fresh sunflowers appeared, but only around the front cover of the book.

“Come on,” Spike said. “You can do better than that. You really want that book, don’t you?”

“Of c-course I want it!”

“Then think about your research. Think about how unraveling this mystery will open a path to faraway lands you dream about.”

“N-not helping!”

The focus straining Razzle’s face turned into a full-blown staring contest which was gaining on its intensity as the seconds passed. Her struggle was evident, and Spike could feel the streams of magic twirling over the table, but not quite joining the forming spell yet. Finally, like waves storming the shore, the aura spread and engulfed the book, lifting it an inch into the air.

“Hey, I’m doing it!” Razzle said. “Let me try something different. Let’s see how you dance, book!”

“Wait, don’t turn it! For now, just concentrate on pulling it towards you, but do it gently—whoa!”

Instead of hovering towards the filly, the tome darted over Spike’s head. He ducked rather than trying to catch the missile which flew across the library, bounced off the floor, and banged against the bottom bulb of the hourglass. A miniscule, star-shaped crack popped up on its surface.

Spike hid his face in his claws. “Gently! Do you even know what that means?” He pointed at the hourglass. “Good thing it’s enchanted. It’ll fix itself if we don’t touch it. Twilight told me about it.”

The glass mocked him by cracking some more.

Razzle cocked her eyebrow. “You were saying?”

The sound of shattering glass muffled a nasty word which escaped Razzle’s lips when a barrel’s worth of soft, delicate sand flowed from the hourglass, first forming a pile on the wooden stand and then littering the floor. Grains which remained in the broken bulb also tumbled to join their rocky brethren below, like some invisible force pushed them so they could become one with the growing dune.

Carrying her weirdly shaped satchel, Glavia joined Spike and Razzle at their table. “Are you alright? Did anyone get hurt?”

“Awesome!” Razzle exclaimed. “I didn’t know I had it in me!”

“She’s fine,” Spike said. “I’m fine, too. You?”

“I don’t really like loud noises, but I am well. Is that what you needed the book for? Because there are easier ways to break glass.”

Spike brought the book back to the table. “No, of course not!” he replied. Clenching his teeth, he added, “We were just casting some spells when somepony decided to turn it into a cannonball!”

Razzle climbed the table to almost match Spike in height. “Hey, how is this my fault? It was your idea, and your training method!”

“Which you didn’t bother to follow, anyway!”

“Please, don’t fight over nothing,” Glavia said, bringing her beak and calming attitude between the two glaring faces. “Did one of your spells meant to animate the sand?”

Spike and Razzle turned in unison.

“Do what?”

Glavia pointed her talon at the small dune by the hourglass. “The sand. It’s moving.”

The grains began their gravity-defying climb up the stand. Despite the lack of draft to lift them, they flew into a furious dance around the hourglass. Like snakes constricting its prey, the streams of sand slid up the bulbs where they converged, and from there, they surged back to the floor, not randomly, but in an organized manner which manifested into a shining, enigmatic form.

Out of all physical features of the trio, it was Spike’s vertical posture—and nothing beyond it—that wasn’t alien about the masculine-looking newcomer who, however, was no dragon. What dragon had four slim arms protruding from their shoulders, or the crystalline body the color of gleaming emeralds? Rather than legs, he had a pillar of bubbling foam taken right out of a luxurious bath. His face was flat and sleek, and as if to mirror the state of his body, its lower half was hidden behind an iridescent scarf of superb quality. If the magical nature of the entity wasn’t apparent enough, the ends of his scarf hovered on their own, like they were immersed in the water.

As they took a step towards the hourglass, Spike asked cautiously, “Razzle, what in the world have you done?”

“I have no idea. But it’s cool.”

The entity looked around, his solid magenta eyes scrutinizing the shards of glass and what little loose sand remained on the floor, then turned his attention to the library itself. He stretched his four arms forward, joined the delicate fingers of his four hands together, and cracked his joints which swooshed instead of producing the actual sound of joints cracking. The same swoosh echoed when he moved his head left and right, just before he bolted over the trio to the bookcase behind them.  Book by book and shelf by shelf, he started throwing heavy tomes behind his back. At the same time, he hummed a tune one would have in mind while doing chores around the house, but the efficiency of four arms and utter carelessness turned that cleaning duty into a barrage.

“Watch out!” Spike shouted.

He wasted no time in grabbing Razzle under his arm before a copy of Creepy Carrot’s Creepy Carrots Cultivation Compendium could crash her cranium. The filly squeaked as he dashed outside the bombing zone. Deftly flapping her wings, Glavia dodged a flurry of books and landed behind the dragon, with Razzle’s muzzle right in front of her beak.

“I don’t believe you and I have ever had a chance to talk face to face,” she said, her expression puzzled, but still amicable despite the chaos that ensued. “Are you a friend of Spike?”

“Well, I guess you could say there’s some mutual understanding between—PUT ME DOWN, YOU SUPERSIZED LIZARD!”

Spike dropped the filly none too soon, saving his spines from bite marks. “You’re welcome,” he muttered. “Glavia, this is Razzle Lulamoon. Razzle, meet Glavia.”

“Sup.”

“I am honored,” Glavia replied. “I was just wondering. Do you have many jinn in Equestria?”

Razzle smacked her forehead. “Oh, he’s a jinn! Of course!” she exclaimed. “I thought they were just a breezie tale!”

“I’m pretty sure breezie tales come with morals, not muddlers!” Spike said.

The rhythmic thudding of the falling books ceased. When the jinn emptied the entire bookcase he whirled over the tomes scattered by him, and the sudden gust of wind arranged them back into neat stacks. He picked the first stack and, following his own method, started putting the books back to where they belonged. It was like re-shelving day all over again, but with no noticeable sense.

He placed his first book on the first shelf from the top, commenting on it in a deep, but harmonious voice muffled by his scarf. “That’s first to the first, second to the first as well, but third to the second!” he exclaimed, seemingly enjoying himself. He put the fourth book on the third shelf, then skipped one and placed a volume on the fifth. “Sixth to the eighth! Seventh to the first! Eighth to the third!” He spiraled and swept the rest of the library with a resigned stare. He pulled down his scarf and sighed. “Those kinds really perceive the reality in funny ways, but these are all wrong! How to find the one answer in such an unorganized quantity of possible outcomes?”

Shouting out more numbers, he plunged back to his task.

“Do you think we should do something?” Glavia asked. “It would be wise to call the teachers, I suppose.”

Razzle shook her head. “Nah, we can take him! I say we kick his… whatever he has that’s for kicking. Spike, go roar at him, or better yet, bite his face off!”

Spike glanced at her, then did a double take. “Just what are you talking about?”

“What? I’m just saying. It would shut him up, wouldn’t it?”

“We can also try to reason with him,” Glavia suggested.

“Thank you!” Spike said, grateful that he was not alone in his sanity. “Alright, here’s the plan. You stay here, I go talk to him. He doesn’t look dangerous, if pretty crazy, so maybe we can stop him from rearranging Canterlot before he does any more damage. If we can’t, we go find someone who can. Let’s try not to aggravate him, just in case, but if anything happens, I need you to get out. We don’t know what kind of magic we’re dealing with.”

“That’s exactly why we’re staying!” Razzle said. “We got your back, Big Guy! You’re with me, Gloria?”

“It’s actually Glavia, but thanks for trying,” the griffon replied, caressing her satchel. “We are not defenseless, Spike, and you probably don’t want to use your dragon magic to contain the jinn. Fire does not go well with libraries and autumn leaves.” She looked at Spike, glimpses of relentless conviction shining in her distant stare. “We’re staying.”

Spike smiled. So that’s how Twilight felt every time her friends were there to support her.

The jinn, who was now hanging upside down somehow keeping his frothy parts attached to the top of the bookcase, kept organizing the tomes with no lesser efficiency than before.

“Excuse me, uh, sir,” Spike said. “Could you please step down for just a minute? You see, you’re making an awful mess around here, and I know somepony who’d scorn you for treating the books like that. It’s not that we don’t appreciate your sorting effort, we’d just prefer you to put them back to the trolley when you’re done. Our staff—that for whatever reason is not here at the moment—can take them from there.”

“The irrelevance of the binominal bipedal and his request approaches maximum! He needs to learn!”

Spike deadpanned, “That’s kind of why I’m here.”

The wind blew when the jinn shook his head. He jumped to the floor and put one of his hands on Spike’s chest, then placed the other on his shoulder. His touch was pleasantly calm, even consoling. “Not him,” he said.

Despite being a supersized lizard Spike felt short, and despite being well in control of himself he felt giving up to a strange sense of serenity which engulfed him. The raging fires of his raw, draconic heritage incited in the Dominion hushed for a moment, subdued by a gentle zephyr stroking his scales. Only the sense of security and quietude prevailed as time itself seemed to slow down for a couple of heartbeats.

The jinn pointed to himself. “He is looking. Now, if you’ll excuse him. He must keep looking!”

Spike shook his head, feeling numb as if he had awaken from a slumber. “What? Wait, what is that you’re looking for? Perhaps I can help!”

“He’s looking for some answers!”

“Yes, but to what—”

“CHAAARGE!”

Jumping between tables, Razzle threw herself at the jinn. She clenched his scarf in her teeth and let the momentum doom them both. The jinn faltered, spun round himself and the filly, and fell flat on the table. Razzle hit the floor, quickly got back to all fours, then pulled the scarf even harder.

“Aha! Incredible!” the jinn exclaimed. “He sees that you’ve adapted her set of solutions quite aptly already!”

Spike groaned, trailing his hand across his face. “I told you to stay put! What does it take to get you to listen?”

With the fabric still in her mouth, Razzle replied, “Shure, blame ush for shaving you from getting brainwashed!” She spat out the scarf and wrapped it around her hoof. “Yuck! It tastes like a bucket.”

“Brainwashed?”

“Yeah! How else do you call it when someone stares at you for half a minute with their creepy glowing eyes?” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Hit it, Glinda!”

Of all the astonishing things he had witnessed today, what Spike saw as he looked back struck him the most.

Glavia was holding an intricate talisman, the major component of which was a triangular, silver frame hanging from a delicate chain connecting two of its pointy edges. The frame, slightly scratched and worn out from years of being handed down from generation to generation between griffon shamans, had a small carving of bright stone fixed in the middle. It resembled a fox, and was surrounded by three sets of stone feathers, one set for each side, and four feathers in each set. The feathers had various vivid colors, but a keen observer could spot they had been repainted recently, and that multiple layers of bleached dyes hid underneath.

Glavia raised the talisman as high as her now closed eyes. She took a deep breath, and a silver mist similar to that surrounding the horn of a spellcasting unicorn appeared around the triangle. Her fringe got ruffled as the streams of magic around her shifted their flow and obediently intersected at the heart of the talisman where the carving itself shined the brightest. The magical aura burst forth and shaped itself into three foxes which ran through the air as if they had a solid surface beneath them. Their silhouettes partly ethereal, they dashed towards the jinn, guiding strings of silver magic which followed them. They danced around him and bound him to the table, soaking into the strings and strengthening them as soon as they were done jumping.

When Glavia opened her eyes, her gaze was serene, but focused like never before.

“It’s Glavia.”

“A margin of error? Extraordinary!” the jinn exclaimed in joy unheard of someone immobilized against their will. “What a wonderful experience, perceiving the reality from a horizontal perspective! He did not expect the streams previously incalculable to reveal their vastness now. The answers are about to become clear!”

Razzle jumped on the table and sat atop the jinn’s chest. She grabbed the nearest book and smacked it open on his head, leaving him face to face with a group of second-graders of 1189. “Stop talking already, you freakish pixie! Seriously, it’s annoying!” she said, turning to Spike. “Alright, so he stopped meddling with our books. What’s the next step?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, for starters, you’re older!”

Spike threw his hands up in despair. “That doesn’t make me an expert on all things jinn! What do you expect me to do, shove him into the hourglass?”

A new voice, orotund and royal, joined their conversation.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Sauntering towards them was none other than Princess Celestia. Spike would say that time had been kind to her, but in truth she didn’t seem to have aged at all. He always suspected her to be pretty much timeless, but it was difficult to support such claim when he was seeing her every week in Canterlot, and then on occasions after he and Twilight moved to Ponyville. Today, he had changed, Twilight had changed, the whole wide world had changed, but Princess Celestia remained the same. Not a single wrinkle had appeared on her benevolent face, nor one hair of her shimmering mane had turned gray. When she entered the room, she brought not only her immense glamour and noble splendor, but also a shift in the arcane field, because just like crystal ponies, the alicorns possessed the innate ability of aligning the particles of magic around them with no effort on their part.

“Are you alright?” she inquired, visibly more concerned about the students rather than the pitiful state of the scattered books. When the trio nodded, she turned to Glavia who was still channeling the magic through her talisman. “I can take it from here, thank you. You may release our guest now,” she said, then approached the table. “Sevenfold greetings to you, one jinn.”

The jinn removed the book he had on his face, revealing his wide open eyes as he looked upside down at the alicorn. “The quadruped of four eyes and four manes? Could he really be twice lucky?” he asked, sliding down the table and getting back to his “feet”. He then hovered around the alicorn, closely examining her features. “A most unusual occurrence! The Fifth spoke highly of your name and the name of your twin-mane shadow who ceased to walk with you. A shame!” he exclaimed, then upon finishing his inspection, asked, “He must have one inquiry. Are you the one many call Celestia of Canterlot?”

“Indeed I am.”

The jinn joined his four hands on his chest. “Sevenfold greetings to you, Celestia of Canterlot. His name is Comprehension, the Fourth Axiom from the City of Infinite Fountains, and the last of the jinn,” he said. “He is honored by your presence.”

Princess Celestia nodded. “The pleasure of meeting one of the jinn again is all mine,” she said, looking back at the hourglass. “I take it that you have been living here, at the library, for quite a long time now.”

“Nil, that’s disprovable! He lives in his City, as he has already stated. These two bulbs conjoined in mirrored symmetry are but a vessel for a chance to assume the continuity of this form. He apologizes, but he had to irreversibly deprive you of what was yours.”

Spike realized that even if put together, the patches of the sand that remained on the floor didn’t make up for the sand that had been filling the hourglass. “Does it mean your kind can only appear when there’s enough sand around? Deserts, beaches, sandboxes?”

Razzle whispered to Glavia, “If that’s the case I’m never stepping into a sandbox again.”

“You and me both,” Glavia replied, smiling to the filly who snickered in response.

The jinn exclaimed, “The bipedal comprehends!”

He rushed under the table and picked up the last stack of books. Murmuring more numbers to himself, he shelved them all, except for the one Razzle had slapped him with. Rather than putting it down immediately, he placed it on the table. With no other tomes within his reach he picked it again, as if he changed his mind, and only then carefully shelved it, almost celebrating the act. He then grabbed it back, nodding.

“You are quite a booklover, I see,” Princess Celestia said. “Is this why you’re here? To learn from our libraries?”

“In a way, yes. He was wandering the aqueducts when he took notice of a disturbance at the forty-third membrane,” he explained. “The magic from the two conjoined bulbs interfered with it, so he went through to investigate. Forgive the rearrangements, Celestia of Canterlot. He could not stand the lack of logic in your approach,” he said, handing the book—the seventies-eighties yearbook—to Celestia. “A most fascinating lecture. He understands why so many have sought it,” he added, his lips warping in a mysterious smile. “But, he has already overstayed his welcome. He is running out of sand!”

“Please, wait! I would very much like to learn more about the jinn. Could we at least arrange a meeting in the near future?”

Comprehension swooshed to the hourglass from under which he took a single, ordinary grain of sand. “He will consider both of your wishes in due time,” he said. “Sevenfold farewells to you, quadruped of four manes and four eyes. May our two asymmetrical paths cross again one day.”

The grain glowed between his fingers, and his emerald form dissolved, blurring and smearing as if had been thrown into a rippling lake. When the jinn disappeared completely, the grain fell to the floor, carried by a gust of wind which threw it amongst the patches of sand. Spike and the others tried to keep track of its movement, but the winds swirled and mixed the patches into a single small dune, burying the grain between its identical brethren.

The jinn was gone, and all that remained was the mess he had caused.

Glavia was first to speak. “I feel sorry for him,” she said. “He said he was the last of the jinn.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” Princess Celestia replied. “Some time ago I’ve ran into one of them in Saddle Arabia near a lovely village called Al-Hoofuf. She also claimed she was the last of the jinn, so maybe they’re not all alone.”

“Then why would they say that?” Spike asked.

“To keep outsiders like us confused, I believe. Maybe their city is not meant to be visited, at least not yet,” she said. “Who knows? The world is still full of wonders yet to be discovered, and every such experience is a chance to learn something new. Speaking of which, how is school? Are you having a good time with your teachers?”

They all replied in unison, “Yes, Princess.”

“Are there any issues troubling you?”

“No, Princess.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

While they were talking, the librarian pony emerged from one of the aisles. He was breathing heavily and the tips of his wings were shivering like he had just ran the Canterlot Promenade and back. Spike had no idea how could someone get so winded from cowardly hiding through the entire drama.

“P-Princess? Is it safe to come out now?” he asked, carefully keeping the minimum safe distance from the broken glass. “My goodness, what a mess! The books! The hourglass! What a terrible mess!”

Celestia instantly entered her comforting tone, “Take a deep breath, and do not worry. There’s been a minor magic mishap, that’s all,” she said, watching the librarian closely as he passed by her. “Excuse me, I do not think we have met before.”

Breathing in and out, the pony replied, “My name’s Prim Rooter, Princess. I work at the Archives, but I’ve been reassigned here only recently.” He looked at the hourglass, crestfallen. “It seems your mishap wasn’t that minor, eh? If you’ll excuse me, Princess, I need to bring order back to this place. Students, out!”

Spike and the rest grabbed their belongings and headed towards the exit when Princess Celestia raised her hoof.

“Not so fast,” she said and walked around the broken hourglass. “Do you know the story behind this work of art? It was sponsored by the Rich family shortly after their daughter had graduated. Her grandfather, Cheeky Rich, insisted for the sand filling the bulbs to consist of only the purest and roundest grains from the Saddle Arabian desert. Since there were no airships back then, the hourglass stood empty for over six months. Unfortunately, Cheeky Rich did not live up to the day when the shipment of satisfactory quality finally arrived about a hundred and sixty years ago.”

Razzle’s pale blue cheeks turned even paler.

Princess Celestia turned her attention back to the three students. “If I’m not mistaken, the jinn said he noticed a magical interference on our side, one that had to originate from the mending enchantment of the glass. However, it would only activate if someone tried to break it,” she said, looking at each of them individually. “Is there anything you would like to share before you go?”

Spike and Glavia both did their best to not look at Razzle.

The filly sighed and stepped forward. “Well, Princess, I guess this one’s on me. It was an accident! I was just practicing my telekinesis when things got out of hoof. I flung a book at it, then it cracked, then it broke, and then the jinn got free. I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry.”

Spike couldn’t believe this. Razzle, the quick-tempered daughter of her mother, apologizing, acting responsible, and above all, taking the blame herself? That was unexpected. He heard the silent echo of the dragon mantra ringing in his head: it wasn’t the matter of his lair, his wealth, or his family, so why bother? Well, for starters, because he could.

He took a step forward as well. “If I may, Princess. Razzle wouldn’t do that if I didn’t dare her to take the book from me. The blame is mine as well.”

Glavia joined him by Razzle’s side, calm and collected as usual. “Actually, Princess Celestia, I was the one who gave them that book in the first place. Perhaps if I had kept it for a while longer, none of this would happen. I realize that I may not sound very convincing, but I would like to ask you to reconsider your decision.”

“Guys, don’t—”

“If you want to punish her, Princess,” Spike said, “then you’re going to have to punish us as well.”

Princess Celestia looked down at the trio, her face revealing nothing. She could be angry at them, but her forehead wasn’t frowning. She could be disappointed by them, but her lips weren’t pursing. She could even be impressed seeing how nobly they were standing up for their new friend, but her eyes weren’t showing any signs of approval. Not for the first time it turned out that if Princess Celestia didn’t want you to read her, you wouldn’t be able to pierce her mask of indifference even in a thousand years. Spike and the others could but await her judgment in silence.

She nodded.

“Let it be so.”

Well, that was a total bust.

To the last second Spike deluded himself that Princess Celestia’s benevolent heart would triumph over her inner teacher, a relentless mare capable of bringing out your best qualities as well as exposing your most shameful lacks. For him, however, she had never been just a teacher, because the only thing she taught him was the spell to send letters—and, pardon the burp, receive them—even before he could talk fully cohesive sentences. No, Princess Celestia was more than that. She was the face he saw on the other side of a tower he built of wooden toy blocks. She was the voice he listened to when he was falling asleep in his cradle. She was the comforting touch he felt on his belly whenever he ate a gem too many.

Spike sometimes thought of Twilight as his older sister, but Princess Celestia was the closest thing he had to a mother.

He crouched by Razzle. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ll have to come up with a better plan next time.”

“Hey, you tried. That’s what counts,” the filly replied, crooking a smile. “Thanks, Big Guy. You too, Glavia.”

In the state of near-ecstatic joy that in the griffon girl’s case meant smiling a tad brighter than usual—which, in turn, almost certainly meant that somewhere in the world, a greedy dragon had a sudden thought of donating his entire wealth to charity—Glavia turned to Razzle. “You finally got it,” she simply said. “I value your effort more than you think.”

Seeing as the culprits were failing to suppress their giggles, Prim Rooter groaned. “Can’t they just go away, Princess? I don’t want to have them around while I’m cleaning this place up. My line of work requires a great deal of concentration which these three clearly lack!”

Princess Celestia looked at him inquisitively. “I’d rather have every book and grain of sand to be left undisturbed for the time being, if that’s not a problem,” she replied, clasping the seventies-eighties yearbook, the apparent top read of Canterlot, in the pale gold of her magic. “The jinn may have left us some clues regarding the nature of his visit.”

“B-but, what about the mess?”

“I do understand that keeping the books in order is your responsibility, but I’m going to need the library exclusively for myself now,” she said. “I suggest you take these students outside and arrange them a suitable task to properly reward them. Perhaps something involving porcelain? I believe they have already reached their destructive capabilities for today.”

“Princess?”

“That would be all, Prim Rooter.”

“Uh, right away, Princess,” he said, turning to them with a frigid stare. “Follow me, students.”

After they murmured their goodbyes to the Princess, Prim Rooter led the trio downstairs. They followed him around the base of the tower along one of the less frequented, hedged pathways of the Archives. Razzle put on a long face and Glavia maintained her usual, distracted expression, but Spike felt glad nonetheless that he was going to serve his punishment in their fine company. If having someone with whom you could get through the unknown wasn’t a good enough reason to accept your fate with dignity, then nothing else was.

Prim Rooter stopped for no reason, looked around, then uncovered a well-concealed passage between two ordinary shrubs.

“All right, students, I think we’re clear now,” he said, meeting three pairs of dumbfounded eyes. “What?”

Razzle asked hesitantly, “What kind of punishment are we getting, sir?”

“I’m not going to punish you, Lula-Razzle.”

“Hey! How do you almost know my name?”

Prim Rooter shrugged. “I remembered it. You made quite an impression when you were introducing yourself during our first class.”

Spike crossed his arms. There was something really odd about this pony. “Hold on a second, ‘sir’. You’re a librarian, but you’re saying you’re also a student? In our class? How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“But you have,” he replied, taking a step away from them. “Excuse me. Perhaps my natural form will prove more familiar to you.”

A green flash enveloped Prim Rooter from heads to hooves, altering his appearance in the blink of an eye. His coat blackened into a charcoal carapace, holes the size of tangerines appeared on his legs, while his wings lost their feathery cover and became transparent and shear to resemble those of an insect. High on his forehead, a slightly arched horn appeared, protruding over a pair of vivid red eyes. The only physical characteristic that prevailed was the changeling’s general chubbiness and the clothes he wore.

“Salutations, classmates!”

Spike’s jaw dropped, Glavia nodded with minimum vigor, and Razzle bounced up in surprise.

“Whoa! No way! You’re that changeling fellow from our class!”

“Piro-Merrot, at your service,” he replied, taking off his vest and glasses. He took a deep, hissing breath. “I am glad I have invoked such a positive response in you, Lula-Razzle.”

“Yeah, about that, it’s still Razzle Lulamoon, not the other way around.”

Merrot rubbed his neck, a blush of embarrassment reddening his cheeks. “Uh, sorry. I still have trouble following that unorganized naming convention you ponies use. Some of you have a single word for a name, others have two. Some have middle names which they don’t ever use, which makes those redundant, while others go by a nickname, and not their real name. It’s messy,” he said. “We changelings have our names properly ordered: first comes the name of our caste, then our first name. As Merrot of the Feeder Caste, I am Piro-Merrot. You, as Razzle of the Lulamoon caste—uh, the Lulamoon house, rather—would be Lulamoon-Razzle, but I shortened it to Lula-Razzle for convenience. I’m sorry if I disrespected you or your ancestors by doing so.”

Razzle giggled. “Nah, my parents would be fine with that, don’t worry. Lularazzle sounds kind of cute, too!”

Spike noticed Merrot’s blush deepening, but the changeling quickly dived into the passage between the shrubs. He returned carrying a chest of considerable size in the glowing red miasma of his magic. He kicked it open and put his librarian costume inside, placing it in a compartment between the insignia of the Royal Guard and a magnifying glass wrapped in a deerstalker cap. “That’s about it for Prim Rooter. Too bad, I was beginning to really feel him.” He looked at himself in the mirror installed in the top of the chest, frowned, then, in a flash of green he produced a frizzy, amaranth mane to match his eyes. “What do you guys think? Not too bright? Oh, and I hope you won’t tell anyone about this little stash of mine, right? It’s for emergencies only.”

“We won’t, but you really need to explain yourself,” Spike said. “Why the deception? The changelings are at peace with Equestria, you are allowed to study here like anyone else, and you’re not normally transforming during classes, so why do it now?”

Merrot sent the chest back to its hiding place. “It’s a fair question,” he replied. “As you probably know, I’m here thanks to the Cultural Exchange Treaty with Equestria. My Queen allowed me and a group of other exchangelings to enroll here. She wants to find out if the SGI lives up to its reputation, and if non-unicorn students are treated fairly.”

Razzle frowned. “And fooling Princess Celestia was your idea of learning it how exactly?”

“You seem to have little faith in your leader,” Merrot noticed. “I don’t believe I fooled her. I think she saw right through my deception, but for some reason she didn’t want to compromise it,” he said. “When you released the jinn I jumped off the library window, transformed into a guard, and headed towards the Royal Castle to bring reinforcements. Halfway there I ran into Princess Celestia, and told her that students were in danger. You should have seen her! She only asked where to go, then blasted into the air!”

“So that’s why you were all huffing and puffing,” Spike said. “You got back to the Archives, changed into Prim Rooter, and pretended you never left the library. That’s a lot of running for one guy.”

Merrot winced. “Ancestors know how I despise physical activities,” he said. “When the jinn left I figured the blame for the hourglass and the mess would be on you, so I tried to extract you from the library. Quite successfully, might I add.”

“I never thought I’d be grateful for someone chasing me off, but I am,” Glavia said. “I had a feeling it was taking you longer than it should have to find the books I asked for, even with the help of the catalogue. What I would like to know is what were you doing in the library in the first place. You came just before Spike and Razzle did, and I saw you listening on them. It’s almost like you were spying on them.”

Merrot shuffled his hooves. “Uh, I was actually following Wyrm-Spike.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You’re a dragon in the land of ponies, but you seem incredibly familiar with local customs. I’m a changeling, and this is my first time in Canterlot. As a matter of fact, this is my first time on the surface!” Merrot said. “I thought that maybe I could learn how to fit in the pony society by observing your behavior. I’m sorry if I offended you by doing so, but you are an excellent role model.”

Spike chuckled. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should feel mad at you for stalking me, or genuinely flattered.”

“I’ll leave the judgment to you.”

When Spike looked down he saw three pairs of eyes staring at him, all awaiting his answer. Even if he had felt offended at first, there was no point in holding a grudge against the changeling who, at any rate, only tried to fit in, and even risked his educational career by blatantly lying to Princess Celestia. Having done many stupid things in his life, Spike looked past that and realized how peculiar his company had become. Razzle, a rambunctious, highly volatile unicorn who attracted trouble wherever she went and would most certainly be the reason of his demise. Glavia, the most gentle griffon he had ever met who never raised her voice once, but did not hesitate to give her utmost when it was needed. Merrot, an awkward changeling who apparently had no idea how to live his life outside his homeland, and was probably facing all the issues of being a legal alien in Canterlot.

Only this morning Spike felt bad about not following Twilight’s precept on making friends. Now he had a chance to get three at once.

Not bad for a rusty dragon.

“You’d make a convincing librarian,” he said, reaching out to Merrot. “We’re good, but no more spying on me. On any of us. Deal?”

Merrot bared his long, shining fangs. “Deal!”

“Great!” Spike exclaimed. “So, the classes for today are over, and it’s Friday. Do you guys want to have lunch together? There’s a great place in the city called Red Cuckoo. They even have discounts for students like us.”

Razzle shrugged. “Sure, I don’t have anything better to do at the moment. All that jinn fighting made me hungry! You?”

Glavia cocked her head. “I don’t really know. There’s that essay for the Introduction to Spellcasting I should write. In fact, we should all write it. Do you really think it’s a good idea to spend our time roaming in Canterlot?”

“It’s about other races and their magic!” Razzle replied. “Professor Inkwell said to start with our friends, so you wouldn’t be roaming. You’d be doing research. Come on, the deadline’s on Monday! That’s two days!”

“Two days isn't that much,” she replied, first frowning but then lightening up. “Alright, count me in. Are you coming with us?”

Done with concealing the passage, Merrot nodded. “Well, I was told to properly reward you. Temporarily banishing you from the school grounds and ordering you to have a good time should be an appropriate punishment. Come to think of it, I’m willing to believe that’s exactly what Princess Celestia meant when she mentioned porcelain.” He rubbed his chin. “Myself, I feel that’s a chance to learn more about local customs, so I would love to join you. If that’s okay with you, Wyrm-Spike.”

Spike chuckled. “Sure it’s fine,” he replied. “And just Spike will do.”

“Very well, Just-Spike.”

“Close enough.”

With their heads full of dreams and spirits lifted by concordant laughter, the newly formed band of magical misfits headed across the school grounds towards the Promenade and the city of Canterlot. They couldn’t possibly know that Princess Celestia was watching them from the distance, smiling as she was smoothing the cover of the seventies-eighties yearbook so dear to her heart.