//------------------------------// // |♫| ɪɪɪ. The Rose // Story: This Game of Mine // by Swan Song //------------------------------//          S E V E R A L   M O N T H S   A G O . . . S I L V E R   S P O O N   The bell jingled as I stepped over the threshold to the Golden Oak Library, and not a single pony looked up. Hmph. Somehow I expected better service from an establishment run by one of the most respected mares in Ponyville. My eyes swept the room—there were a multitude of assistants, apprentices, hired hands and what-have-you darting every which way, fetching books and coffee and all manner of things for who really cared why. Now, where was that— ah. I made a beeline for the dragon, who was perched precariously on a ladder. “Excuse me—“ “Woah!” Startled, he lost balance and dropped the book in his claws. I immediately grabbed the base of the ladder to stabilize it, and used another hoof to pluck the book out of the air before it could clatter to the ground. “Phew! That was a close one. Thanks, uh—“ he turned around, and his eyes widened “—oh. Silver Spoon.” “Certainly,” I replied, biting my tongue to avoid a sharp retort at his sudden recalcitrance. “Apologies for startling you.” “…S’all good,” he replied more genially, overcoming his momentary silence and holding out an expectant claw. “Ladders and I just have a… history.” “Well, you’re certainly taller than the last time I saw you—I’m sure you’ll be rid of them in due time,” I said pleasantly, tossing the book up towards his outstretched arm. “Heh, yeah, I guess…?” he responded uncertainly, deftly grabbing the book from the air and shelving it before sliding down to ground level. “So, um, did you need something?” “I was wondering if the Archmage was in. I have need of her services.” A huff. “Believe it or not, but by now I probably know the library better than—“ “I meant in regards to magic.” Out with it already, you overgrown lizard. You have yet to earn my displeasure—don’t give me cause to change my mind. “Oh. Right.” He pointed to the stairs in the corner. “She’s getting ready to leave for Canterlot soon, so she’s been packing. Just watch your hooves in there—it’s a bit of a mess.” “Thank you.” I strode for the stairs without further hesitation, eager to leave my awkward conversation with the dragon behind. He was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a sparkling conversationalist, and I often found myself struggling to get along with him. Probably something I should fix. After all, he would be my only lifeline to the Archmage in case I needed more help from her in the future, as I did now. I approached the door and knocked twice. No answer came. I didn’t have time for this. Opening the door slightly, I began to call out, but paused as I noticed voices emanating from the open crack. Curious, I held my ear to the door. “…were friends with her, so you would know—” came a distressed voice. “Gilda’s not my friend anymore, how many times do I have to tell ya?!” snapped another pony, whose raspy voice sounded… familiar. “Do you even know how much shit’s been slung at me ever since people found out I even knew a gryphon—” “I know, and I hate having to saddle you with this, but having known her probably means you have at least some degree of insight into Gryphosi culture! Please, I need your help!” “Okay, Twilight, first off, Gilda was raised in Cloudsdale for most of her life, so I seriously doubt that. Second of all, I just… I have a job now. And they expect a lot from me, yanno? Just like yours does from you. I’m a full part of their team, and I can’t just up and walk out on them!” “I—I can make a royal decree!” came her clearly somewhat panicked reply. “Just a quick letter to the Princess, and you can be reconstituted to serve the needs of the Crown! Even the Wonderbolts can’t say no to—“ “Twilight, realize what you’re asking. If the shutterbugs caught so much as a fart in their direction that even vaguely smelled like pasta, they’d stick my head on a pike and parade me through the streets.” “That’s… a bit extreme…” “You know what I mean. My career’s definitely at stake, even if my head isn’t. Heh.” A pause. “Look, you’re my girl, Twi, and there’s a ton I’d give up for your sake… but this is really, really big. I’ve dreamed for this moment all my life, and I can’t just up and throw it all away for… for…” “For the fate of Equestria and her people? You’re worried about your own life, but what about the lives of thousands of other—” “Twilight, I’m not stupid. I know what’s at risk. Which, for the record, is why I’m not saying no. At least, not entirely.” “…You’re not?” “I know you’re under a lotta pressure, girl. Trying to play nice with the gryphons can’t be easy. So… for now, I’ll be there for ya when I can. Just write to me whenever you need to, and I’ll tell you what I know. And if it looks like things are coming to a head, you can, uh, ‘reconceive’ me or whatever, and I’ll come. Just… please, Twilight. Keep in mind what it means for me, okay?” “I… I understand, Dash. And I’m sorry, if I’m being too pushy. I’m just so… so scared…” “Hey, c’mon, don’t be so hard on yourself. After all those letters and stuff? You know friendship better than anypony else. I’m surprised Princess Celestia hasn’t promoted you to princess of friendship or something extra corny like that.” “Heh, I don’t think it’s that simple…” “Who knows? Everything’s simple to you. You know how to solve almost every problem like it was my first-grade math book.” “…You made it to first grade?” “Very funny, Twi.” A huff. “For real though, I think you got this in the bag. Just have a little faith in yourself, yeah?” “…Yeah. Yeah, I’ll try. Thanks, Dashie.” “Anytime, Twiley. Still down for dinner with the rest of the gang before ya skip town?” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” “Wicked. Let’s hope the world doesn’t try its hand, then. Anyways, peace and chicken grease—” “Dash, not the window.” “Oh, right, sorry. Lemme just—” Oh dear. I raised my hoof inches away from the door—within seconds, it was floating before the face of Rainbow Dash instead. “…Yo?” came her unsteady voice, her ruby eyes narrowing at me in scrutiny as she stood at the open door, prismatic mane only barely coming to rest. “Err, sorry, I was just about to knock,” I said quickly, lowering my hoof with a smile. “I had a request to make of the Archmage, if she has a moment?” “Is someone at the door, Dash?” came her voice from within. “Yeah, some gray kid with glasses. Says she wants a favor or something.” Gray kid? Really? “Oh! Let her in, I’ll be down in a moment.” “In ya go, squirt.” She stepped aside. “She’s up packing on her bed loft balcony thingy, so just give her a bit.” “Thank you.” As I stepped in, Miss Dash whisked out and closed the door shut. Firebrand. Emerging into the room, I gave it a rapid study. The room had the typical rustic charm that one could only achieve by… hollowing out a gigantic, magically-infused oak tree, I suppose. Though the boxes, instruments, endless stacks of books, and other scientific paraphernalia certainly stood as a fascinating juxtaposition against the natural space within which it was carved. Of course everything would be a mess on the verge of a departure. Though, knowing what little I did of the Archmage and her rambunctious antics, I vacantly wondered if the mare’s personal quarters were always in such a state of disorder. “Sorry, excuse the dust!” came her voice from above, and I glanced to my right to witness the mulberry mare in question descending the staircase, her blue robes dragging across the steps. Despite the… aggressive explosion of violet perched upon her head, the unicorn bore a bright smile and looked no worse for wear, even despite her earlier distress. “Things are quite hectic at the moment, but my brain could most certainly use a few minutes’ break. How can I help you, Miss…?” “Silver Spoon,” I replied with a slight bow. “We’ve never been introduced formally, Archmage, but I’m a student of Miss Cheerilee’s at the school.” “A pleasure!” She trotted up and held out a hoof. “And you can just call me Twilight, please. I’m not fond of the title.” She winced at her own statement. “Er, well, I mean, I am! It’s a fantastic title, actually, and I worked hard for it after all! But, you know, real names and such.” “Titles are important,” I said simply, shaking her hoof. “I… suppose?” She shrugged, turning around and beginning to pile more objects into boxes and bags, the entire time conversing without missing a beat. “I mean, sure, they’re important, but, you know, when you get called that every day non-stop by dozens of ponies, it’s nice to hear your name. Like a reminder that, hey! You actually have a name, and you’re not just a somepony they need something from! Hahaha!” She tittered nervously, and I restrained my urge to do the same, instead marveling silently at how this mare managed to get anything done with such a tangential thinking process. “That is certainly true. For someone whose cutie mark is about giving and getting, believe me when I say that those little reminders that we’re equine are incredibly gratifying.” “Oh smite me, you’re right!” Her eyes glimmered towards me momentarily, as if she had discovered a long-lost soul sister from another mother. “You must get that all the time, considering what your cutie mark means! As rewarding as it must be, I can’t imagine how exhausted you get with ponies always expecting so much from you.” For such an influential mare, she absolutely, utterly wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was almost criminally easy to conceive of ways to relate to her. “Indeed,” I replied genially. “It’s a relief to know there’s somepony out there who can relate.” “No kidding! So much work, so many expectations… I guess at the end of the day, we’re all just ponies, stumbling around in life.” The frazzled mare slumped down onto a cushion, her casual demeanor clashing severely with the grandiose aura exhumed by the regality of her flowing Archmage robes. “I’m glad I’m not alone on this.” I wondered absently whether it was common for her to act like this, or if I were simply seeing a very rare moment of vulnerability in one of the most powerful mares of the nation. “Believe me, as am I,” I said, stepping forward and placing a hoof on her shoulder. She did not shirk at the physical contact—if anything, the Archmage seemed to welcome it, eyelids fluttering shut and a subtle smile gracing her lips. “Though I do wish we had met under better circumstances—I had intended to introduce myself in the near future, but when I heard you would be leaving town for quite some time, I made my way over as soon as I could.” “Yes, unfortunately,” she sighed wistfully, scanning over her various belongings still scattered about. “Apparently Celestia— I mean, the Princess— thinks my time would be better spent trying to appease the gryphons rather than refining our national communications infrastructure!” “You disagree?” The Archmage blanched for a moment at that. “Well, yes— I mean, no— I mean, she is the Princess, I can’t really say no…” “I suppose not.” I began wandering around the room, examining her various belongings from a respectable distance. There was a veritable potpourri of magical miscellany scattered all over the room—telescopes, spellbooks, star charts, measuring tools of all shapes and sizes. I wonder what any of this could possibly do to help with ‘appeasing the gryphons’. “I can’t help but be somewhat baffled by it all, to be perfectly honest.” “Oh?” The Archmage quirked an eyebrow. “How so?” “Well, wouldn’t the task be better filled by—“ wait, don’t imply incompetence “—specialists explicitly trained to that role? Say, an ambassador rather than a mage?” “Right? Exactly!” the Archmage exclaimed indignantly, her pleasant demeanor beginning to crack. “I mean, yes, that’s what I told the Princess. We have ponies trained for this express purpose! But she said that they hadn’t gotten anywhere with the Gryphosi diplomats, and she wanted to try something new.” “What was she hoping you could bring to the table?” The Archmage shrugged helplessly. “She said that my studies in friendship could be invaluable.” Friendship? What an unorthodox field of study. “If you’re studied on the subject, then I imagine you’re more than qualified, no?” “I guess, but darn it Celestia, I’m a mage, not a diplomat!” she huffed, throwing a foreleg out and sweeping her robe off the floor as if to reinforce her point. “I’m at my best working with magic and technology, not gryphons! Ergh! This has me wound up so tight.” “I can certainly see why,” I consoled her in a sympathetic tone. It took no genius to deduce that this mare did not feel in her element. “And I had to put all of my current research and development projects on hold, too!” she grumbled as she began ticking items off an astronomically-long checklist—literally, it was the length of at least five or six of the star charts. “For Sun’s sake, just give me one problem I can solve with magic and not logistics or diplomacy, please.” Well then. What a fortuitous segue. “Hm. Now that you mention it, I do have something you could likely assist me with…” “Do you?!” The mare suddenly whirled on me, eyes glittering with barely-restrained glee. “Is it magic? Technology? Science?” Unbelievable. It’s like she doesn’t even suspect I had an ulterior motive. “All three.” I fished around in my bag and pulled out a small device. “Are you familiar with these?” “Hmm.” She lifted the apparatus with her magic and scrutinized it closely. “Looks like a… Stratonet communicator headset. This one comes standard in Hoofbox entertainment consoles.” She turned to me with a curious expression. “Why would you have one of these?” What do you mean, ‘why would I have one of these’? Was I not allowed to own a video game console?! …Well, according to my own social code, I really wasn’t, but even still! No, wait. Clearly the Archmage shared some of the same predispositions, or at least was aware of the social stigmas. I could absolutely use this. I just needed to play the part. Wide frown, break eye contact, stare at hooves in embarrassment… “O-oh,” came the mare’s awkward follow-up. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to imply you shouldn’t own one or anything…” All the signs of contrition were there. No doubt she’d do anything to make up for her perceived mistake. Which now made her more open to suggestion. She was in the hollow of my horseshoe. “N-no, that’s quite alright,” I said slowly, cautiously, as if fearful that speaking further might open myself up to more unexpected slights to my integrity. “If anything, you… rather aptly illustrated the issue.” “You mean…?” I sighed with a tinge of dramatic flair, before staring the mare in the eyes. “Archmage… Miss Twilight… may I entrust you with a secret?” The Archmage nodded seriously. “Of course. Tell me anything you need to, my little pony.” Hm. One of the Princesses’ mannerisms, used to comfort their subjects. Student of the Sun, indeed. “I’m certain you figured it out already, but… I recently came into the possession of a Hoofbox,” I said cautiously, rubbing a foreleg with the other. “And I realize it’s not the most, er… auspicious of diversions for somepony of my particular persuasion…” “I wouldn’t say that!” said the Archmage with a wave of her hoof, chuckling somewhat hesitantly. “We all have our own guilty pleasures that we enjoy in our spare time.” “’Guilty’ is certainly the right word for it,” I mumbled in faux-shame, before clearing my throat and staring the Archmage straight in the eye. “Unfortunately for me, my family is held in rather high esteem. As the daughter and inheritor of the Silver estate, I’m afraid such a hobby would reflect rather poorly on myself and my family. Noblesse oblige, and such.” “I… can understand that, I suppose…” “I was wondering if you had any ideas. Some way you could help me protect my identity online.” “Hmm. Well, let’s see.” Without warning, there was a large magical flash, and my communicator suddenly burst into pieces. “A-Archmage?!” I shouted, furious that she would destroy my property so suddenly. “What in blazes are you doing?!” “Disassembling it,” she mumbled, almost completely oblivious to my fuming tone as she floated the disparate pieces over to her desk. “Interesting…” Okay, okay. This was the Archmage. Even if she was a little eccentric, perhaps even somewhat childish, she knew what she was doing. Armed with that knowledge, I took deep breaths, slowly coaxing my heart to still from the sudden shock, and trotted over to the mare. “What’s interesting?” I asked. “This model is much more advanced than the prototype communicators I saw coming off the production line two years ago...” she spoke quickly as she worked. “N-band signal, second-gen wireless Skyfang protocol… but if it’s up to spec, it should… ah, here we go, an open spell-socket for side-loading custom spellware— wait, no, the framework’s been upgraded; shouldn’t be a problem if I update the existing references…” “Sorry, er,” I spoke slowly, hoping not to break her concentration too severely. “What’s all that in Equish?” “This communicator’s a lot newer than the ones I worked with. I have a spell that should do just the thing you need, but I have to rewrite some of my old spellcrafting to match. It’ll just be a— huh, this is interesting…” A few minutes passed as she worked, babbling incoherent technical jargon to herself all the while, as I looked on with something of a… morbid fascination. She had expert control over every piece that made up the device, and seemed able to rapidly assemble and disassemble it at a moment’s notice, remembering where each part went with what appeared to be unerring accuracy. And she did all of this near effortlessly, while apparently writing new spells? Or something to that effect? I wasn’t quite sure what was going on, exactly. But it was clear that, despite her blundering candor, this was a mare with incredible talent and focus when she truly dove headfirst into her work, and I was not ashamed to admit that I was impressed. So unbroken were her attentions that it came as a shock when she suddenly addressed me directly. “Miss Silver Spoon, what I’m going to do for you is install a voice modulator spell,” she explained, not once pausing in her labors. “A… modulator?” “It’ll mask your voice using timbre and tonal alterations that can make you sound like a completely different pony.” That… actually sounds perfect. “Can I choose what I sound like?” I ventured cautiously, not wanting to seem pushy. “You can right now.” Her labors suddenly paused as she turned to me, the pieces floating ethereally in her aura. “Any specific requests?” I pondered my in-game persona for a few moments. I had been playing for quite some time already, and had grown used to the new body I occupied, as well as the mechanics of the game itself. But my voice simply didn’t match, and thus I had chosen to stay silent for the most part. That wouldn’t do, if I had any intention of interacting with Sweetie Belle in the game. I needed a voice to suit my character. And this was my chance. But then I’d have to tell the Archmage. “Please keep this strictly confidential,” I said in a near whisper. The mare blinked, then nodded slowly. “A stallion. With a deep, resonant, powerful voice.” There was only a moment’s pause as the Archmage digested my request, before she turned back to the device, her magic aura flashing several times. The device reassembled itself in short order, and she floated it back to me, the communicator hovering before my eyes. “Try it out.” I blinked, then approached slowly, speaking into the magic aura that surrounded the device. “I am Shadow Song.” From the aura came an echo of my words, in a voice that was unmistakably not my own. It was masculine as could be, soft yet powerful, commanding a sense of awe and mystery with a resonance that seemed to quake the floor. “Whoa, that’s intense,” came the Archmage’s surprised response as the echo faded away. “Maybe I should tone it down a tiny—“ “NO!” I shouted into the aura, before clapping my hooves to my ears as the room thundered with the overwhelming timbre of the amplified voice, causing the windows to rattle ominously. Oops. As it faded away, I quickly snatched the device out of her telekinetic field. “Aha, so sorry about that.” “Oof.” The Archmage shuddered as she recovered. “That’s, ah, that’s quite alright. Are you sure that will work for you?” I nodded. “Yes, it’s perfect. Exactly what I was hoping for.” She smiled at me. “Well then, if that’s the case, I guess you’re all set!” I stared at the device for a moment, impressed by how she produced such a perfect result in so little time. “Is that… is that all there is to it? Nothing more needs to be done? How did you do that so quickly?” “Ahaha, well, I’ve been working on a voice modulation spell for a friend of mine in my spare time. Diplomatic stuff, ya know?” Another nervous little chuckle from the Archmage. “Though this was the first time I’ve ever actually gotten to use it outside of that case, and most certainly the first time I’ve ever tried to make a mare sound like a stallion.” “That’s… somehow, that’s incredibly fortuitous.” “No kidding!” She leaned back against her desk, clearly basking in the success of her little experiment. “I’m actually a little surprised the end result was so convincing. I doubt anypony would even suspect that this wasn’t really your voice.” “Indeed. It’s everything I could have hoped for and more.” I tucked the device into my saddlebag. “Thank you, Archmage.” “Of course. I’m glad to help.” “If there’s anything I could do to recompense you for your time…?” “Oh, don’t worry about it!” She waved a hoof. “It’s no trouble, not for a nice young filly like you.” “Still, I’d like to do something, if possible.” I pondered for a moment, trying to think of ways I could maintain my connection with this mare. Having the Royal Archmage of Equestria in one’s pocket could certainly be useful in the future. “How about I treat you to dinner the next time I’m in Canterlot? It’s such a shame that we’ve only just met, and I feel like I’ve barely gotten to know you.” Her smile softened. “That would be lovely. I’ll hold you to it then.” She stood from her cushion and raised a hoof, which I reached out to bump. And, suddenly, I found myself wrapped in her embrace, strands of violet mane cascading around me, and a soft voice whispering into my ear. “Never forget, my little pony, that you are your own mare. Don’t ever lose sight of that. Don’t let the world dictate who you are, or who you want to be.” ... That was unexpected. I honestly had no idea how to respond to her unexpected change in demeanor, nor the words themselves. I had no reservations about my personal identity, or my place in the world. But, I suppose, my requests to the Archmage had made it seemed as such. So I merely did what I did best: I played along. “…I appreciate that, Arch— Miss Twilight. Thank you. I will certainly take your words to heart.” “Glad to hear it.” She freed me from her embrace, and began leading me back to the door. “It’s certainly been a pleasure, Silver. Thanks for the distraction. I think it helped clear my head a little bit.” “The pleasure is mine, Miss Twilight.” I bowed slightly. “Thank you for all your help, and I wish you good fortune in your duties to the Crown.” “Heh. I’ll certainly need it.” She opened the door. “Safe journeys.” “And you as well.” As I descended the stairwell towards the exit, I could not help but feel a sense of overwhelming relief; that my problem had been so appropriately addressed, and that I was finally able to extricate myself from that mare’s incessant chattering. Stepping out into the quickly-darkening streets of Ponyville, I turned in the direction of my home without another moment’s hesitation. After all, I had a date with destiny.