//------------------------------// // Fuil // Story: Courts of The Magi // by Airstream //------------------------------// Libra realized what was about to happen as soon as she felt the tug on her mental defenses, and turned her head to the side just in time to see Serale and Cobblestone glow ever so briefly before they vanished in a puff of snow. Her heart sinking, she turned to see that Vino, too, had vanished from his place in the courtyard, and rose to her hooves just in time to catch the last rumble of the aftershocks, almost putting a hoof wrong and falling flat on her face. While the other ponies waited, stunned, she shouldered her way through the crowd to the spot where her two apprentices had once sat, and began to examine the seats they had left. “Treachery!” cried one of the Court's knights. “Sir Vino used sorcery to save his sorry hide!” Not sorcery, Libra thought, annoyed, as she lit her horn up, scanning the seats. Magic, you twit. Sorcery involves a lot more screaming. The seats were still radiating energy in the form of heat, likely left over from Cobblestone and Serale's bodies. A small electric charge was present as well, which was surely the product of Cobblestone's magic. She'd developed the odd habit of grounding her excess energy in magic spells as electric discharge, and while she hadn't taken as much as she could from everypony, she had, characteristically, overreached and had to leave some of her newly-acquired magic behind. “Where is the Lady?” one of the nearby Guards asked loudly. “Has anypony seen the Lady?” Libra sighed to herself as she continued to examine the seats. If these idiots would shut their mouths and let me concentrate for the space of a minute, I'd have an answer. The magic itself was probably not meant as a transportation spell, or any means of teleportation, Libra realized as she carefully looked over the seats once more. Teleportation left the space around its subjects slightly warped, and the air here was clear. Her eyes narrowed, and she spun from the seats towards the ring, pushing her way through an increasingly-hysterical crowd towards the spot where Vino had vanished. Time was crucial here, and already the chances of her determining exactly what had happened to her charges were slimming. I swear, she thought to herself as she sidestepped a wildly gesticulating pegasus in a blue tabard, When I find those two, I'm going to make them run laps around the castle until they can't lift a ruddy hoof, see if they still want to muck about with advanced magic then! Vino's spot in the courtyard was currently occupied by another member of the Guard, a sergeant with a bushy mustache who was busy arguing with a unicorn in armor. “I don't care what the regulations state!” he shouted, “We've got missing royalty with threats against her life! We're searching this damn...” He and the unicorn vanished with a pop, appearing a few yards away, neither apparently having noticed their relocation. Libra bent low to the ground, examining the cobbles, and was rewarded with a wealth of information in the form of a mostly-burned handkerchief, which she snatched up in her magic immediately, subjecting it to a rapid-fire battery of tests and energies, analyzing the surprisingly complex spellwork that had been laid upon it. She hadn't taught either of her apprentices any enchanting, but the work here was clear. The handkerchief was meant to serve as a battery of energy, drawn from the ley lines and channeled through Sir Vino's bladeband. Since the band was linked to him, Vino likely would have felt strangely revitalized, and might even have had limited foresight of what was to happen next. To any casual observer, it would have looked like Vino had simply anticipated his opponent's next move, or, more likely, had just gotten lucky. By the time the spell was completed, the kerchief would be only a kerchief, and any trace of wrongdoing would be long gone. Libra privately suspected that the original idea had been Serale's, and she had enlisted Cobblestone's help to avoid culpability in the aftermath. The Magus would have been incredibly impressed, if she weren't absolutely livid. But what had gone wrong? Was there a source of magical interference? Was the spell miscast? Had Serale lost focus? The questions began to pile up, and Libra felt the familiar burden of a problem needing urgent solving, and the bickering and panicking ponies in the courtyard weren't helping a bit. “Excuse me!” she called loudly, hoping to quiet things down. “May I have your attention?” A few heads turned, but she was dismissed almost immediately out of hoof. “Pardon me!” she said, a bit louder, and then, shouting now, “Listen to me!” It was no good, and if anything, the ponies near her attempted to speak louder in an effort to drown her out. Libra's eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared, her hoof clenched and then scraped angrily against the ground. Her horn lit up, a violent shade of purple, and her voice rang with power as she roared in a voice that echoed off of the mountainsides. “I said quiet!” There was a flash of light, and suddenly, every pony in the courtyard found themselves temporarily unable to open their mouths. Libra rose into the air, cushioned by arcane winds, and addressed them all like children, which was apropos, seeing as how they were acting. She took a deep breath. “Somepony contact Princess Cadance,” she said. “Captain Fidelis, organize your ponies into search teams to check the Lady's quarters and usual areas of inhabitance. All spellcasters, specifically Clerics, please begin to check for memories and impressions of the Lady, Sir Vino, and Cobblestone, preferably together.” Several ponies shot off in different directions, many of them wearing white robes denoting their positions as Clerics. Libra felt the first powerful bands of Clerical magic washing over her as they began to comb the area for the presence of the three vanished ponies. She addressed the other ponies as the Guard began to organize itself with a merciful minimum of noise. “For those of you still here, I would ask that you please remain where you are. We have much to review, and if anypony saw something out of the ordinary, then their testimony may be invaluable. I and others will be interviewing you shortly, and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience.” There was a pop, and suddenly Princess Cadance was in the courtyard, ponies pressing themselves low to the pavement as she strode towards Libra, who lowered herself to the ground, bowing her head respectfully as she did so, though her knees remained unbent. “Princess,” she said, “I fear my apprentice and the Lady did something foolish.” Cadance nodded. “Caduceus already informed me of what's happened. Do you have anything to add?” Libra held up the handkerchief. “It would appear that my apprentices attempted to render aid to Sir Vino during the match, using the ley lines.” “It's a poor teacher that cannot control her pupils,” Cadance remarked gravely. Libra tried her hardest to remain silent, she really did. “I am told your aunt would know that better than most,” she replied, quite without thinking. Cadance's eyes widened, and she rocked back as if slapped. “I beg your pardon?” she asked. “Milady?” a new voice chimed in, and both Cadance and Libra turned to see Captain Brightsteel, sword still out, standing a respectful distance away. “Are you well?” “As well as could be, Captain,” Cadance said. “I was just discussing the actions of Libra's apprentices with her. It seems they sought to aid Sir Vino in the fight.” Captain Brightsteel's jaw hardened. “I see,” he said gravely. “Then I take it the Magus knows what that means, by the law of our lands?” Libra looked him dead in the eye. “The day Lady Serale or my apprentice sees the blade of an executioner's sword is the day I am dead or dying already.” “That can be arranged,” Brighsteel said, stepping forward aggressively. “I've killed mages like you before.” Cadance's wing came down between them both. “No, Captain,” she said gently. “You have not fought a mage like her before, this I can promise you.” Brightsteel looked for a moment as if he were going to attempt to sever the wing of his own monarch, but at last, he subsided moodily. “The sentence still stands,” he said. “Serale Everstar and the mage-thief attempted to help a pony marked for death by spiriting him from the field of combat. They share his sentence.” Libra felt a sudden chill wind blowing through the courtyard, and she turned to see Princess Cadance's normally warm pink eyes turn an eerie blue, the color of arctic ice. Her lips twisted into a thin line, exhibiting clear displeasure, and something darker. She turned to the captain, her voice perhaps just a bit harder, and spoke. “There might still be a way to avenge my honor, Captain,” she said with a voice like stone soaked in honey, and Libra felt a spell, both subtle and immensely powerful, weaving itself through the air between the Princess, her coat lightening from rose to blood-frothed snow, and her knight. “A way that would exonerate the Lady, as well.” Captain Brightsteel, his eyes perhaps a bit unfocused, bowed his head in deference. “What is thy bidding, my Mistress?” Libra redoubled her mental defenses as Princess Cadance spoke. “Vino named a second, and his second is still here. Would you fight him in Vino's stead?” Libra watched Brightsteel try and find focus, falter, and fail. “Of course, Princess. Name him, and I shall uphold your honor.” Princess Cadance smiled triumphantly, stepped forward, and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. She stood taller, and shouted commandingly. “Invictus of the Sunborn! Step forward and take your place as the second of Sir Vino!” Libra's eyes widened, and she stepped back as the massive Pegasus stepped out of the crowd, who looked on in a mixture of awe and terror, backing away from a newly-established dueling circle, this one far less formal and sure to prove far more deadly. “Invictus,” Cadance said calmly, “Are you aware of your duties as a second?” Invictus frowned. “See to Sir Vino's affairs after his demise,” he said bluntly, his voice felt in the chests of those present as well as their ears. “And prepare him for combat.” Cadance nodded. “That is correct,” she said, “But if Sir Vino, for whatever reason, is rendered unable to finish the duel before he yields, wins, or is killed, you are the one who must fight in his stead.” Invictus's wings flared in shock. His ears lay flat as he spoke. “I was not told of this,” he said. “And furthermore, I must attend to the retrieval of my geas-bearer. I have not the time for this.” “Do this,” Cadance said, “And I will see to it that you have left before the day's end.” Her horn flashed, and a bladeband clattered to the cobblestones before Invictus. “You have my word.” Libra drew a sharp breath as she watched Invictus mull things over for the briefest moment, before he bent over, placed the bladeband around his foreleg, and stripped the shirt from his chest, tossing it to one side. “Very well,” he said. “I accept your terms.” Captain Brightsteel seemed unfazed, and in fact, perhaps even more confident than when he started the duel, and Libra realized that something was, in fact, very wrong here. Cadance's wings pumped, and Libra could have sworn she heard the cracking of ice, before she drifted back to the edge of the impromptu circle. “Have at thee,” Captain Brighsteel said, swishing his bladeband through the air, the rapier-thin sliver of metal dancing for an opening. Invictus said nothing, merely bowing his head as the bladeband flowed off of his hoof, forming once more into a massive great-hander. He hefted the sword and waited for Cadance's signal, his face an unreadable mask. Cadance, her coat now closer to white than red, and her eyes a terrible blue, raised one hoof. “Begin,” she said, with a lazy indifference. Captain Brightsteel's attack was swift and true, the rapier feinting easily to draw Invictus's sword away, and then doubling back towards his now-unprotected chest. The point struck home with a savage thrust, and Brightsteel leaned into the blow with all his might, intent on skewering Invictus where he stood. The blade shattered on Invictus's chest like it was made of glass. Invictus's return stroke was brutal. The great-hander collided with Captain Brighsteel's neck, and the only warning of what was about to happen was the snap of shattering bone before Invictus cleaved the captain's head from its shoulders in one smooth stroke. A fountain of blood erupted from the stump of the neck, showering Invictus's normally pristine white coat with crimson, which he bore stoically. A splatter of blood landed on Cadance's face as well, highlighted perfectly against the snow-white of her coat and the pupil-less blue of her eyes. The Captain's now headless body toppled over with a very final-sounding thud, and Cadance, eyes closed, shivered in ecstasy. “Justice has been done,” she murmured, her voice strange and raspy, somehow audible to all. “Somepony send the servants to collect this corpse and return it to its family for burial.” She turned to Libra, opening her eyes. “Magus Libra,” she said, her voice suddenly warm again, “If you would be so good as to collect Invictus and bring him to the North Garden, I should very dearly like to speak with the both of you in private.” Libra said nothing, merely bowed her head in deference as Cadance disappeared in a flash of light, leaving only the coppery stench of blood and a silent Court behind her.