//------------------------------//
// Hour of the Museum 
// Story: Fictionationality - Equestria 
// by Spirit Guide 
//------------------------------//

The next morning, Spirit awoke to the rising sun, which he felt was as good a time as any to rise. The bright rays shone through the large window at the other end of Twilight's apartment.  So much for sunrise in the east, Spirit said to himself. He looked over the side of the bed and found the basket bed empty.

Looks like Fang is up. Spirit recited the first morning prayer, thanking G-d for returning his soul to him, and climbed out of bed. Immediately, an appetizing aroma assailed his equine nose. Yep. Fang is definitely up.

Fang was indeed up and had just finished making breakfast. Spirit joined him at the table near the tower kitchen. "Goood morning, Spirit," the dragon greeted.

"Good morning to you too, Fang." Spirit looked at the food his friend had made. "You outdo yourself every meal."

"Ah, it's nothing. Just one of my talents."

"One of your many talents," Spirit clarified. "You're a jack of.... well, a drake of all trades, at least now."

"I suppose." Fang helped himself to the jam. "Y'know, I had the craziest dream last night. It was really like several dreams, one after the other, none of them any less crazy."

My night wasn't exactly normal-free either, Spirit thought as Fang launched into a detailed account of his nighttime visions. 

They finished their breakfast and moved on to morning service. The two friends got quite a surprise at the end, though, for while they were wrapping their phylactery straps, Fang's cheeks ballooned outwards and he belched out a thick-looking ball of fire.

"Gesundheit," Spirit responded.

"A dank," Fang replied, putting away his phylactery before wiping his nose. His eyes settled on the cloud of ash swirling in the air he had just ignited. "What is that?"

Spirit waved his leg and the ash blew away. A sealed scroll dropped from the dissipating cloud and into his hoof. "This is all really looking like Princess Celestia's scroll-sending magic. Though how, I can't say."

"Enchanting without consent, most likely," Fang guessed, sounding quite miffed. "I don't mind magic, even the kind that affects me, but I'm gonna have a word with that magical sun-wielding horse."

"No need to be rude, Fang," Spirit insisted, putting a hoof on the dragon's shoulder. "I'm sure there's an explanation for it. Princess Celestia was planning on meeting us today. We can ask her when we see her."

Fang pulled out one of his cards and made a face at it. "What about that scroll I coughed up? Who sent it?"

Spirit unfurled the scroll. "Dear Spirit Guide. I hope your first night in Canterlot was a pleasant one. I can just imagine how it must feel to be sleeping in different places all the time. I hope Luna had a hoof in any comfort you felt from the night.
If you are prepared by then, would you be able to come by the castle at eleven o'clock today? I would like to advance you in Equestria’s magic studies, as well as explain the reasons behind Fang's recent scroll-belching, which I'm sure at least one of you would like to know.
After that, I'm sure you would enjoy a visit to the city, having been flown straight in to the castle when you first arrived. There are many amazing sites to see, including the library, racetrack and museum. The guards have even reported about a street performer that recently arrived in Canterlot. That could be fun to watch.
Please send back a reply via Fang's firebreath as soon as possible. I have set it up so that it would work the other way this once.

Hope to see you soon.
Princess Celestia."

"Joy," Fang exclaimed. "So you're going to write a reply, I'm going to burn it and then it'll appear in front of the princess?"

"That's what seems to be implied in her letter, so yeah."

"All right then. Let’s get to it."

While Fang cleared breakfast, Spirit went upstairs to the library floor. He sat at the writing desk, pulled over a blank parchment and began to write. Dear Princess Celestia. Fang's night appears to have gone without a hitch. My own slumber, however, was interrupted by a disturbance in the lunar plane. I'm sure we will have much to discuss when we get together at eleven.

See you soon.
Spirit Guide.

Spirit rolled up the parchment, returned downstairs and gave it to Fang. The dragon ran his fingers over the sealed scroll, then tossed it into the air and torched it into fine ash. The black powder sparkled and flew out the open window, snaking toward the castle.

"It's on its way," Fang said, watching the snaky cloud slip behind a tower.

"That means we've got a window of time between now and our meeting with Princess Celestia." Spirit turned and looked at his friend. "What do you say, Fang? Shall we take a look around town?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

They tidied up and left the tower, getting onto the main street right outside the school grounds. The style of the buildings in Canterlot was far different from those in Ponyville. The houses were pale shades, most commonly white or blue, and decorated with grand and flowing designs. There were many stores lining the streets, as well as huge structures including an art gallery and a theater. Just as Celestia had said, it was even nicer in daylight.

The ponies only added to the sight. In Ponyville, the residents were all typical easygoing and cheery, whereas the ponies of Canterlot seemed split into the commoners and the high-society. These two types of ponies stood out, with the upper-class individuals habitually looked up and away from the simpler citizens.

"Those well-dressed walnuts sure add to the sight," Fang murmured. "Not for the better, though."

Spirit understood where his friend was coming from. The elite crowd clearly had no respect for the rest of the populace, keeping an obvious distance from anypony less important-looking. "It is unfortunate to see how materialistic some beings can be, and how much importance they put into wealth and rank."

"They are rank," the dragon agreed, wafting invisible fumes. "They reek of uppitiness ‎and jerkiness and everything that makes a person unpleasant to be around."

"Just try and ignore them, and keep an eye out for things that you do like.”

Fang grimaced, but his expression softened the more he looked. He pointed across the street. "There's a museum over there. I like museums."

"There we are," Spirit said contentedly, following his friend's finger to the impressive stone building. Fang liked examining artifacts from ancient times and different cultures. He had a habit of discovering them, too. "Maybe we could go visit later today."

While looking at the museum, Spirit noticed one pony by the entrance who looked strangely familiar. He peered closer, but the pony suddenly turned and walked into the shadow of the museum, disappearing from view.  Who was that? Spirit wondered briefly.

"Why later and not now?" Fang asked. "We've got plenty of time before we have to meet with the princess. Besides, I've got that hunger for knowledge, the likes of which I can only satisfy through examining stuff."

Spirit did his best to weigh the possibilities and make a quick decision. Maybe this way I'll be able to find that pony. If I've seen them before, I'd very much like to see them again. "Fine. Let's go." 

They walked up the steps and into the museum. The interior was huge, consisting of one huge room divided into smaller wings by subject. At first glance it looked just like any other museum, but the two dimension travelers knew that each museum's dusty contents were unique. Fang's eyes glimmered as he took in the display cases, spread manuscripts and unearthed treasures.

"Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy." He zoomed over to a mounted display bearing a set of quadrupedal armor, not unlike the decorative ones in Canterlot Castle. "Man, those things look clunky."

"Not unlike human armor," Spirit added thoughtfully.

Fang grinned at him "Hey, when do you think Equestria will invent Kevlar?"

Before Spirit could devise an obvious answer he heard a voice call out, as loud as one could be permitted in a museum. "Well, fancy meeting you here."

The prophet turned around slowly. Standing by a gemstone display was a tan stallion in a rather dusty hat and jacket, the kind of dust one picks up when poking through dirt often. Spirit recognized the first Equestrian stallion he spoke to. "Clay Mine. Nice to see you again."

"It certainly is," the meteorologist agreed. "Is this inquisitive dragon with you?"

Fang's frills stood up. "Somepony mention me?"

Spirit pulled Fang over. "Clay, this is my best friend, Fang. Fang, this is Clay Mine. He's a meteorologist who checked on that rock that fell in Ponyville that night." He gave the dragon a nudge.

Clay grinned. “Actually, I’m not super knowledgeable in comets and metoers as the title implies. As a matter-of-fact, I’m more of a geologist. My team is made up of researchers and scientists from different branches of the trade. It gives the team strength, in a way.”

“More and more amazing,” Fang stated, earning a smile from the earth pony.

"Quite. Though speaking of that rock that fell in Ponyville, I'd like to show you something if you'd be so kind as to come and see."

"We'd love to," Spirit replied. "Fang loves museums."

"Didn't we already establish that?"

"Great. This way." Clay walked around the armor display and past a wall covered in manuscripts. Spirit and Fang followed close behind him, the latter turning his head this way and that so as not to miss a single display.

Clay stopped in front of another case, this one displaying chunks of shiny silvery-white rocks. The geologist pony looked excited. "I wonder if you know what this right here is."

Fang's eyes grew even larger in amazement. "Iridium, second densest element, can resist high temperatures. I love this stuff."

"You've got quite the eye there, young dragon," Clay complimented, nodding appreciatively. "This is indeed iridium. We found it in the crater near Ponyville, several feet below the crater floor. It must have come from the meteorite that made that hole. I am surprised the iridium punched that far down but, when it comes to meteors, nothing is too amazing."

"You've procured quite a bit of it," Spirit noted. Indeed, there was more iridium behind the glass casing than the amount humans tended to find in meteorites back on Earth, and the pieces were far larger. It was as though the meteorite were made mostly of iridium.

That would be our fault entirely, Spirit figured. With all of Fang's talking while we traveled, not to mention our game of cards, I wouldn't be surprised if he caused the iridium percentage to increase dramatically. The prophet's eyes strayed to the information plaque on the iridium display. "Contains high levels of an unknown energy." Spirit turned to the geologist. "Clay, what does this mean over here?"

Clay looked at the line Spirit was referring to. "One of my workmates, a unicorn chemist, examined the iridium with his magic. He's talented in reading contents of elements in minerals, which is quite useful to us. But he was flummoxed by whatever it is inside the iridium. First time he was ever stumped by a rock."

"Unknown trace elements, huh?" Fang looked over his shoulder at Spirit. "What do you think?"

Spirit let his gaze wander to the iridium display and slowly approached it, placing a hoof against the glass. He ignited his magic and gingerly reached out to the rare mineral, feeling for any ill-fitting energy. What he found did more than disturb him.

"Hit the deck!"

Fang, Clay and a number of the ponies within earshot threw themselves flat on the stone tiles as an explosion rocked the museum. A cry echoed through the room, a distressed sound of pain. Spirit looked around, doing his best to locate the crier, but couldn't see anything through the cloud of dust that filled the room.

"Somebody with cloud control, please clear the dust!" he said in a commanding tone.

A moment later, Spirit heard a soft flapping sound and his vision began to clear. Through the rapidly-fading cloud he could see the dim shape of a pegasus, beating his wings to blow away the dust. The prophet made a mental note to find this pony's identity and thank him, as soon as he solved the current problem.

Standing out against the disappearing cover like the darkness it was, the manifestation hovered over the iridium display. Like all of its kind, it was comprised of a dark vapor that gave off a malevolent aura, held together in a basic pony shape. This one also had a cocky grin, which only the more powerful manifestations tended to wear.

"Just when you thought it was safe," Fang declared dramatically, "to go to the museum."

The manifestation shot him a dirty look, complete with flashing red eyes. Then it faced Spirit. "So, Six-Thirteen. Once more you travel far to attain allegiance with the mythical and the storied. As always, we will thwart your attempts."

"Your threats mean little to my companion and me," Spirit replied, his voice echoing powerfully through the museum. "Time and time again you set your single minds onto stopping us, yet not once have you succeeded. Just as your existence is meaningless, so is your goal."

The manifestation made a rumbling sound, thundering instead of laughing. "You simply have the advantage wherever you go. Not this time though. Here, you have chosen a land you know nothing of; populated by beings you know nothing about. Even your so-called all-knowing companion has no insight of them."

Fang, who had been leafing through his power cards from the moment he hit the floor, suddenly looked up. "Hey, how was I to know ponies could be so awesome? All my life, it was made out to me that magical ponies were silly and unreal, but Equestria has shown me otherwise.” He spread his arms and wings out, gesturing to the crowd who all nodded in gratitude.

“Also,” Fang went on, “you're a bit late. We had a speech that sounds really similar to yours from our first manifestation since we arrived, and we captured it weeks ago. In case your semi-brain couldn't process that, it means you're repeating."

The black pony creature scowled at the carefree dragon, gritting its pointed teeth. "I've waited all this time, for I knew you would return to examine what remained of your transport.”

"I told you, Spirit," Fang teased seriously, as much as one could. "I told you we should have taken a train."

The manifestation didn't even look up. It raised a hoof and Fang was smacked across the museum by an unseen force, smashing through a plaster separation wall and into the next wing. "Seriously, I can't understand how you can tolerate him, 613," it said. "He's one of the most annoying and talkative beings in the universes."

Spirit smiled at the manifestation's words. "That particular title is open for debate, but you’re wrong. It is those things exactly that make him a good friend and ally," the prophet replied surely. "Fang's imagination and quick-thinking is a gem among his behaviors."

"Ugh, typical 613. Always making light of the dark."

"Except in your case, Darkly Wynd." Fang clambered over a pile of rubble, standing at the top like a world conqueror, a card hanging at his side. "A level-2 manifestation, standard hex. You're just as mouthy as me, and one hundredth the danger rating."

In a Grade-A presentation of 'no anger management', the manifestation launched itself at Fang, red eyes burning with black fire. Fang flipped himself into the air, slapping his card against the manifestation's passing form.

"Red, black AND rage attack?" he chuckled, hovering in the middle of the museum. "You call that original?"

Fang flexed his claws back and forth, weaving them into vague shapes. He brought his claws together and the card on the manifestation exploded like a miniature bomb, sending the black pony crashing into the rubble below.

“That’s for the museum!” Fang declared, giving a huge thumbs-up to the ponies still in the building.

The manifestation rose into the air, glowering at Fang. "I'm not some common wisp of darkness!" Its hooves began to spin like personal mini tornadoes, spitting black powder at Fang. The dragon dropped like a rock, his entire body suddenly frozen. Clay leapt up and caught Fang before he crashed into a pottery display.

“Thanks, partner,” Fang said.

"No problem.” Clay lowered Fang down and looked up at the manifestation. “What are you?" he demanded.

"Oh, you don't know, do you? None of you do." The manifestation laughed a cliche evil laugh, spooking almost everypony still in the museum and causing most of those ponies to flee. "I am the spawn of yours sin, the final dooming result of your wrongdoings. The more you choose to follow your evil inclination, the more power you give to us, and the more we can influence you further. We—"

"Talk too much."

Spirit jumped, his staff glowing with charged power, and bodily whacked it against the manifestation, knocking it to the ground. Clay, Fang and a few other ponies watched him closely with a mixture of expressions. "You hex manifestations are demanding in your own ways," he announced. "You can talk straight, perform slight tricks and induce various conditions against one's state. But, overall, I find you far simpler to defeat than the basic manifestations. At least they only have enough of a conscious to follow their mission, however evil it may be."

The prophet raised his staff overhead. In its crook sat a huge pearl, hung on a long chord strung with beads and fangs. Spirit held his staff over the manifestation like a pan over a fire and the jewel began to glow. A crack appeared on the pearl’s round surface and a beam of light shone out of it directly onto the manifestation. Like ghost-busting, the beam sucked the sinful beast into the pearl and sealed the crack, the pearl itself shimmering darkly for a moment before returning to its previous pink luster.

I thought I'd only be able to make one of this type, Spirit said to himself. Maybe this one is drawn from its recreation. He removed the pearly Seal from his staff and examined it closely. “What a beautiful likeness. Kikyo, be proud.”

Fang leapt up athletically, the manifestation’s stunning flushed from his system. “A perfect execution, Spirit,” he said, picking through the rubble. "That makes six Sealed manifestations in total."

"Sealing them away won't discourage the rest," Spirit muttered, slipping the pearl Seal over his head. "This manifestation may have been lying in wait for us but some of them may still be in pursuit, we being their sole target. I don't know how many manifestations will turn to harass the rest of Equestria and how many will focus on us. It makes me restless and uneasy."

"You're always restless and uneasy. That's why we're together. We balance each other out." Fang flicked the Seal around Spirit's neck. "I wouldn't worry about the manifestations so much, though. They may be a semi-prime objective but even they need to take things slow, despite having nothing else to do with their existences besides causing trouble."

Spirit sunk into contemplation for a moment. "Guess we just have to wait until they come to us."

"What a nice simple conclusion."

Clay leapt over a pile of fallen stanchions. "That was... that was just... I have no words!" His eyes spread as wide as Equestrian anatomy naturally allowed. "That, that thing, it was beyond anything I've ever come across in all my travels and studies." Clay looked at Spirit curiously. "It seemed to know you. Called you 'Six Thirteen'."

Fang stepped in protectively. "Clay, there are a lot of things going around; Things ponies haven't seen probably ever. We're doing our best to keep it that way for as long as possible."

The geologist opened his mouth to speak, but a pegasus appearing at his side interrupted him. Spirit recognized that this was both Terra Firm, Clay's archaeology assistant from the crater examination, and the pegasus who had cleared the smoke caused by the manifestation. "There's no point questioning, Clay," she said, putting a hoof on his shoulder. "These boys look to me like they know a whole lot more than we know and that's the way it's got to stay."

"She's right," Spirit said. "What you and the others brave or stupid enough to have witnessed is a very recent development in Equestria, one that is mostly, if not entirely, our responsibility. We intend to deal with it as fast as possible but we prefer as little knowledge of it as possible among the masses.”

Clay nodded at once. “Understood. Besides, this is beginning to look like more than we should be looking into.”

Fang whistled. “You have no idea.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no idea.” Terra gestured around them to the ruined museum. Columns and arches were so much strewn rubble among the stanchions and barriers. Numerous displays lay shattered among the dirt, pottery and mosaics mixed unrecognizably with it. Four pegasi were struggling to lift a rather large armor plate which was pinning down a couple of visitors.

“Oh my.”

Fang sunk to his knees and tenderly picked up a pile of white bones, pieces of a now-unknown skeleton. “Don’t look at my face,” he requested when Terra bent down to check on him. “I’m not very expressive when it comes to sadness like this anyway.”

“He’s not the only one.” Clay rounded on Spirit, his face pained as though he were punched. “Can you fix this?”

Spirit let his eyes wander about the blown museum. It reminded him painfully of bombed buildings, a sight which unfortunately he’d seen many times. “On horsepower alone, strength and magic accounted for, it would take several weeks. Even so, some of the displays are hopelessly beyond repair.”

“No.”

Fang rose up. A flick of his wrist swapped the bones for a clawful of cards. “Enough power has been restored to my deck to return this shrine of knowledge to its former glory.” He held up his cards, each one meaningless-looking imagery and colorful pictures.

“Nopony blames you for what happened, Fang,” Terra said soothingly, while at the same time eager to see what else the dragon could do.

“Terra, it’s not a question of blame.” Fang turned and gave her his pointy grin. “It’s a question of ability… and generosity.”

In a single flap, Fang’s wings flung him into the air like a stone from a sling. He hovered in the very center of the museum and gave the whole place a once-over, noting the destruction and the visitors still around. He curled and flexed in midair, moving in seemingly random directions until each and every two claws, on both hand and foot, had a card wedged between them.

“Now,” he said with the utmost drama, “it’s cleanup time.”

Fang swooped down over the rubble, fanning cards out like airplane flaps. As he passed over, a wave of green light spewed from the cards and licked at the stones like fire. But instead of burning or disintegrating, the rubble stood up in the green aura and slowly floated back into place like magic. Fang did a lap of the museum, making sure the walls, columns and roof were all repaired. The freed ponies clambered out of the rising metal and they all looked up at the dragon in awe, though one once well-dressed mare continued to sob over her ruined dress.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” Spirit asked a gaping Clay.

“Uh huh,” Terra exclaimed quietly, not wanting to disturb those at work.

The museum structure fixed, Fang turned his attention to the ruined displays. With his cards hanging like throwing knives, he dove down and circled the mixtures of glass, pottery, metal and bone until it looked like an emerald whirlwind had encased them. The dusted pile of shattered display pieces swirled together, slowly reconstructing into their original forms. The fixed vases, weapons and skeletons whizzed back to their appropriate places, followed by their glass coverings which hinged back on perfectly.

“Back where you all belong.”

Fang drifted back down to his friend and the scientists, his job done. The walls and floors were bright and clean, the stanchions shining like the day they were made. Glass cases gleamed, while behind them their assortments of scripts, jewelry and other unearthed historical treasures sat proudly. The entire museum looked good as new, as though the manifestation's destruction had never wrecked the place.

Clay spun around, mouth open and eyes wide as he struggled to take in the sight. “I-I-I, this is, this… Ohhh!”

“Now that’s what I call having no words,” Fang said with a hint of smugness.

Terra smiled. “You and Clay share a fiery passion for museums and what they stand for, literally in your case. Seeing the museum in shambles left him broken, but seeing it returned to the way it was… for him, that’s better than any gift imaginable.”

“Thank you!” Clay grabbed the dragon in a vigorous hug. “Thank you, Fang.”

Fang patted the stallion’s shoulder. “There there, it’s all right.”

“It almost wasn’t,” Spirit said. “The museum would be in a very bad way, if you hadn’t offered to give your cards for the cause.”

“Give is only so accurate.” Fang pulled out his deck. Every card, while before was illegible, was now blank as fresh paper. “I released all the power the deck’s gathered since we crashed into Equestria. It’ll be a while before I can use them again.”

“Wait, crashed?”

“Also, Spirit,” Fang continued, ignoring Clay’s statement and Terra’s waving her hoof in front of the geologist’s face, “we really should make our way up to the castle. That hour we were spending on the town is almost quite over, we spent so much time in here.”

“Though for good reasons aplenty. And Terra,” Spirit added, “thank you for blowing away the dust back there. It gave me a few spare moments to gather myself against the manifestation.”

Terra smiled proudly. “No prob. Thought the dust had to go, so I improvised. Glad it helped.”

“If you have an audience at the castle, you’d best hurry,” Clay said, getting over his initial shock. “It’ll take a few minutes to travel across town from here. Hopefully, nothing will hold you up.”

“Nothing had better.” Fang‘s pupils narrowed drastically and he cracked his knuckles loudly. “Or I’ll have to resort to my other ‘cleanup’ methods.”

Spirit steered the glaring dragon toward the exit, Clay and Terra escorting them. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you two again. Maybe we’ll get more opportunities to speak in the future.”

“Oh yes, I’d like that,” Terra said excitedly. “Maybe then you’ll be able to tell us why somepony as young as yourself acts so differently.”

It’s more than just being a young pony, Spirit thought privately to Fang, who grinned in reply.

“But really, I do hope we see you some time,” Clay said earnestly as they walked out of the museum and descended the stairs. “You’ve left Terra and myself hungry for knowledge.”

“Great, my appetite is contagious,” Fang joked. 

The three ponies laughed. “This has been an enlightening encounter,” Spirit said, inclining his head at Terra and Clay. “Though we may not be able to satiate your hunger ourselves, I wish you luck in your endeavors.”

Clay tilted his hat. “Thank you for the time, Spirit. I hope your business up at the castle goes well.”

Terra nodded in agreement. “Mhm.”

“Farewell, my siblings in science!” Fang concluded, waving back at the pair as he and Spirit headed down the road to the castle. When they rounded the corner, he hissed at the prophet, “Gotta go fast. Ten minutes to eleven.”

“How time flies when you’re meeting old acquaintances,” Spirit murmured in his thoughtful manner. He stuck out his back left leg and jiggled it a few times before suddenly breaking into a fast gallop, zooming down the street with the clatter of his hooves.

Fang cricked his neck, unfurled his wings and launched himself into the air after Spirit, quickly catching up to his comrade. “Clay and Terra are becoming more like friends, if you ask me.”

“Even if I didn’t ask you,” Spirit insisted, sharply turning onto a street that led straight to the castle, “they most certainly are.”

The two friends flew down the street, Fang literally, weaving past ponies and never losing sight of their target. As they zipped past a plaza, Spirit noticed something going on and braked with a sharp twist of his body, digging his hooves into the stones. Fang didn’t stop quite as quick and loop-de-looped several feet away, turning through the air and landing smoothly beside the prophet.

“Very little makes you stop, Spirit,” the dragon remarked, shifting into a casual stance. “So what is it?”

“Over there.”

Spirit’s hoof was pointed at the plaza. A wooden trailer covered in brightly-colored scribbles was parked close to the center. A unicorn mare stood close by, dressed in a cloak and pointy hat patterned with stars, performing for a number of onlookers.

“She must be the street performer the princess mentioned in her letter,” Fang said, watching as the mare caused a rope to weave itself into impressive shapes. “A magician. She looks pretty good at it.” The dragon looked up at Spirit. “Why did you stop? There’s nothing suspicious about her.”

“That’s just it,” Spirit pressed. “Look.”

As the both of them continued to view, a change could be felt in the air. With a loud insulting shout, one of the audience members suddenly tossed a clearly overripe tomato at the magician, who ducked as the juicy projectile whizzed overhead. The craze passed through the onlookers like wildfire, all of them joining in with insults and ammo.

"Go back home, faker!"

"You call that magic?"

"Boo!"

Fang frowned awkwardly. “How rude.”

“That’s barely adequate,” Spirit chided, now upset. “Those ponies are being downright disgusting. What did that mare ever do to deserve such poor treatment?”

“Could be a local habit concerning all street performers. Wouldn’t put it past them.” Fang glanced down at his wrist, then remembered he wasn’t wearing a watch. Shrugging exasperatedly, he said, “Whatever it is, we’ll have to figure it out later. We’ve got an audience with the princess.”

Spirit watched on as the heavy rain of rejection forced the mare to flee for her wagon, where she quickly shut all the windows and the door. Taking in a deep breath, Spirit turned back to the castle, muttered “Let’s be off,” and resumed his trot.

I have not forgotten you, he promised himself, as he and Fang raced for the gates of Canterlot Castle. Spirit directed his thoughts at the sealed caravan, which was still being pelted with not-so fresh produce. Hang on, talented one. I shall return to assist you.