//------------------------------// // The Luxury of Failure // Story: The Silver Standard // by PatchworkPoltergeist //------------------------------// “Did you see Princess Twilight’s dress? She still had it on when she came back from the coronation.” Diamond Tiara bit into her raspberry tart, smacking her lips. “Too bad it happened on a school day.” Her expression never faltered and she said nothing of it, but Diamond’s eyes traced the trajectory of the Crusaders playing freeze-tag outside. Apple Bloom chased down Sweetie Belle while Scootaloo, long frozen, watched the pegasus foals’ skyball game above their heads. All three had been absent on coronation day and returned to show-and-tell bearing Canterlot souvenirs. “Yes, too bad.” Silver Spoon leaned against the open schoolhouse window and let the humid breeze brush through her mane. Good thing Diamond suggested tea indoors; it smelled like rain. Peering up at the cloudy skies, she stirred her tea and tried to recall the current month. It still felt like late March… or it could be mid-April? Months into the new year, Silver’s day planner still looked brand new. The dawdling parade of days and weeks had passed by her without fanfare. A tea party here, a birthday bash there, the odd collaboration with a classmate now and again… after a time, it all blended together. “Anyway, I saw it. Princess Twilight had a very nice dress.” Some neo-classical pink number that, in Silver’s opinion, didn’t suit Twilight at all and hung weird on the flanks. Silver’s opinion didn’t count for much though, so she elected to keep it to herself. Diamond slugged back the last of her cinnamon chai and set the teacup down with a hard clink. “Okay, I give up. What’s the matter, Silvie?” “Nothing.” Silver Spoon turned away from the window, blinking curiously. “Why would something be wrong?” “You’ve been stirring your tea for, like, half an hour. Recess is almost over and you didn’t even touch it.” Silver took a small sip of rose tea. Stone cold. “Oh.” She shrugged. “Guess I feel a little out of it today.” Diamond humphed. “Try ‘out of it all month’, Silver Spoon. You’ve been weird ever since we wrapped up winter.” April after all, then. “Well, I don’t feel weird.” Outside, Miss Cheerilee called the pegasi down from the clouds before the lightning started. Wincing a bit, Silver poured out the cold tea and shut the window before first raindrops fell. “I don’t really feel much of anything. Just bored, I guess.” Rolls of thunder grumbled above their heads. Diamond went to work packing up her half of the tea set and as soon as Silver put down her cup, she packed that too. Not a rush job, either; she neatly arranged them in Silver’s travel kit just the way they’d been packed. Brass Tacks couldn’t have done a better job. Come to think of it, Diamond had held the door open for Silver Spoon this morning too. And covered for Silver when Cheerilee caught her off guard with a math question. And hadn’t it been Di’s idea to have tea indoors in the first place? Silver Spoon raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what do you want, Di?” “Wh-what?” Diamond rolled her eyes to the rafters with an innocent little eye flutter. “Pff, that’s crazy. I don’t want anything, what’re you—” Not in the mood for games, Silver crossed her hooves. “Oh, fine! I was thinking…” Diamond fidgeted in her seat. She glanced towards the back of the room, watching rain pat against the stained glass window of herself. “Do you want to help me build a routine for the regionals? You could come along and see me in Baltimare.” Foals filtered back inside, dripping rainwater and complaining about recess being cut short. Diamond would have to go back to her regular seat at the front, soon. “If you don’t want to, it’s whatever—I usually do most of this stuff by myself, anyway.” She tossed her mane and rolled her shoulders, watching The Dink take her regular seat on Silver’s opposite side. “But you’re pretty good at planning stuff, so… whatever, figured I’d throw it out there.” Odd. The other horseshoe should have dropped by now. Silver fished for it. “When’s the pageant?” “About two weeks, but I already have a couple routine ideas thrown together. I just gotta figure out which one to pick.” She pursed her lips. “Taffeta Twirl crowned Supreme at semi-regionals, and she is not beating me again.” “Huh.” And that’s all? No weird provisos or scheduling fiascos? It still seemed too simple. She checked for Diamond’s tells—a fidgety tail, tiara adjustments, darting eyes—but found none of them. “Sounds fine to me.” “Okay.” Diamond grew quiet and tapped her hooves together, probably calculating how much time she had before Pip reclaimed his desk. In a rush of breath, she leaned over the desk and whispered, “Are you mad at me?” Silver looked up. That last statement might have sounded harsher than she meant. She wondered if her decorum had been slipping. “I’m not mad, Di. I told you, I’ve just felt out of it.” “Why?” “I don’t know.” A lie, and they both knew it. “So, you said you already had routine ideas?” Not at all fooled by that misdirection, Diamond flicked an ear. “Yeah,” she said. The tone underneath warned that this wasn’t over yet. “I just need to pick one that fits the theme best. Regionals isn’t the biggest, but Coach Razzle says it’s most important.” She rested her cheek against her hoof. “Usually she’s the one who comes down and helps with this stuff. For some reason, she only shows up close to showtime now.” “Sounds easy enough, but I don’t know much about pageants, Diamond. I have no clue who’ll be there, or what sort of prep—” Diamond Tiara held up a hoof. “Don’t have to. I got most of it covered.” “So, why do you need me, then?” “Duh. You’ve got good judgment, Silvie.” She absently rubbed the back of her neck. “And since Coach Razz isn’t gonna be here and Mom’s at Bridleway, I don’t have anypony for a second opinion.” It sounded easy enough. A project might be the thing to get her out of this funk; at the least, it’d be something to do. Silver folded her hooves and flashed a prim, professional smile. “When do we start?” The game plan for pageants ran similar to talent show prep, but with stricter guidelines, stiffer competition, more glitter, and better prizes. Practice was scheduled after school (two hours minimum) and on weekends (four hours minimum), with additional planning at recess and before school, provided they had time (Diamond always ensured they did). Silver Spoon had watched Diamond push through the solo version of this process  last month—what little she’d managed to see of her—and gathered a reasonable expectation of what awaited her. One step into the Rich trophy room, and those expectations vanished. Spotlights lit the windowless room, throwing shadows of winners’ cups along the walls. Brass, silver, gold, and platinum trophies of all sizes and shapes towered over the shelved rainbows of rosettes. Nothing Silver hadn’t seen before, but only through cracks in the door and brief glances from the hall. Stepping inside, she couldn’t gauge the size of the place. At once, it seemed the shimmering walls of prizes pressed in to smother them, or else went on forever. It might have been bigger than the living room for all she knew. “Wow.” She tilted her head up to see the banners and sashes looped along the ceiling. If Silver squinted, she could see sunlight peeping through the satin and velvet; there must have been a skylight under all those accolades.   “I know. I’m pretty amazing.” In perfect dressage form, Diamond Tiara lifted her head high and marched to the center of the room, spreading her hoof to the display. “Welcome to The War Room, Silver Spoon.” Silver nodded, though it hadn’t been the trophies that had impressed her. Nine circles of folders blossomed over the dark carpet, each labeled by year and location. A veritable resume of Diamond’s pageant career lay at her hooves. Each folder circle had a different color. Each color brightened from the soft pastels of the outer circles that marked regionals to a single vivid folder in the bullseye: Nationals. Together, the folders spiraled across the War Room, leading to the metal table awaiting them in the center, complete with cushions. The quasi-organized chaos that hallmarked Diamond’s usual escapades aligned into a precise machine. Whatever system Silver Spoon just stepped into had been running for years. Silver nosed open a pale pink folder and blinked at the sheets of dance steps, rule sheets, and music lyrics. The folder beside it popped open with a light touch, filled to bursting  with the stapled profiles of other ponies. Foals on one side and adults on the other; competitors and judges, it seemed. In marker, a young hoof had written Vanhoover Semi-Finals: ‘97 on the bottom pockets. “Ooh, good year,” Diamond said over Silver’s shoulder. She opened the center’s red folder paperclipped with a glossy of herself at… six? Under the makeup, hairspray, and glitter, Silver couldn’t tell. Pictures of the runners-up beamed in the folder’s side pocket. Diamond examined a callous in the soft frog of her hoof. “Not easy, though. That’s the year I told you about before.” “When somepony stole your music, right?” Silver pricked her ears and leaned in for a better look at Diamond’s hoof. It might have been a trick of the light, or a flaw in the polish, but she didn’t think so. A hairline crack sliced through the hoof. Not a chip or a scuff from roughhousing or tripping, a full-on crack. Silver bit her lip with a sympathetic wince. “Di, how’d—” Diamond pulled her hoof back with a huff. “It’s no big deal, just some old practice accident. It’s already healed up, anyway.” She rolled her eyes at Silver Spoon’s uncertain hum. “Like I told you, if winning was easy, everypony would do it.” Quite ready to move ahead, Diamond flicked her tail against Silver’s withers. “C’mon, we can’t get anything from stuff that old. I just want to keep this stuff around so I don’t repeat anything.” Silver’s reflection wobbled along a line of winner’s cups. They all pressed so close together, she couldn’t read the bases. “Are all these really yours?” “Pretty much. The ones up there that look like golf clubs are Dad’s, and that crystal thingy over there is my stepmom’s.” Four pale yellow folders awaited them on the steel table. Diamond flipped them open one by one. “Okay, we’ve got competitors, routine options, style options, and the last one’s for, like, budgeting and travel junk.” She pushed the last folder aside, along with the competitors folder. “We can worry about the competition later; regionals are mostly amateurs and half of ‘em won’t even be serious enough to show up.” They reviewed this year’s rules, regulations, and theme. Theme, Silver already knew, could make or break a routine. Theoretically, a pony could bend the rules until they nearly broke, so long as they kept the theme intact. The name of the game this year: Heritage. “Only problem is,” said Diamond, “in the regional sets, everypony’s from the same area and there’s a lot of overlap. I sent a couple of telegrams to Coach Razzle and she told me it’d be a good idea to make it local. Like, really local.” “So, about Ponyville. Good plan.” The roster had nopony from town, so keeping it within the borders guaranteed it’d be unique. Silver Spoon considered one of the concept sketches for a possible dress: a cute little A-line in Ponyville’s flag colors, all ruffles and ribbons. Beautiful, though a bit simple. It’d work well for a finale, but not much else. Her ears tilted forward as she examined an alternate sketch with a bonnet and petticoat. “What’s this one?” “I wanted to do an old-timey outfit.” Diamond pushed the bonnet outfit aside for an uncolored tailcoat sketch, complete with top hat. A swing dress and a loud ensemble straight out of Cheerilee’s yearbook followed it. “I can’t pick one I like enough to use, though. I don’t think any of ‘em have enough flash.” They didn’t. Not compared to any of Diamond’s past ensembles. Silver steepled her hooves. The competition would be flashier than Trot Square, too. Maybe they could use that. “I think you should use them anyway.” “Which one?” “All of them.” Silver spread the retro ensembles across the table so they that made a little fashion timeline. “It’ll be like a little history lesson, see? You can use one for—” “For each category! Yeah, and I can, like, get an old timey professional outfit for the Q-and-A section and start off with the bonnet…” Diamond grinned as the concept took shape. “I like it. But wouldn’t that be kinda boring?” “Di, I don’t think you even know how to be boring, first of all. And no, it adds sincerity to it and adults love when foals try to teach stuff.” Silver Spoon gave Diamond a confident nod. “Everypony else will be all flash, but you’ll have flash and smarts.” “It’s still weird. I dunno if pageant dress code even allows dresses without sequins… but then again, looks are only half the battle. If I can pull it off with the routine itself—and I will—it won’t matter.” She shoved the wardrobe section aside in favor of song lists and music sheets. “So that’s what’s next.” As they pored over the music list, debating old standards versus new remixes and the tastefulness of dubstep, Silver felt that old familiar project rhythm fall into place. She cleaned her lenses, cracked her neck, and pulled out her trusty fountain pen. Time to get to work. Today’s Friday, right?  That meant a weekend onslaught of dances, music, choreography, and ego-boosting. Hours and hours of work every single day, school days included. Busy, busy, busy… So busy, her head surely couldn’t find the time to fret on… well, it didn’t matter. Diamond had a pageant to win. Gazing at the floor’s orderly mandalas of past conquests, systematized and colorful as rosette ribbons, Silver smiled. Yes, this felt better. It seemed they’d barely begun when they heard a knock and the door creaked open. Diamond’s eyes darted up for a second before refocusing on the music sheet. “Hi, Daddy.” “Hey, darlin’.” Mr. Rich sounded even more tired than he looked. It must have been a long day. As his gaze swept across the folders and trophies of the War Room, his shoulders sagged, though his cheerful tone never faltered. “Pageant season’s in full swing, I see.” Silver offered a respectful nod. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rich.” “It’s a little past afternoon, Silver Spoon. Aren’t your folks expecting you home by now?” “Why? It’s only—” Silver squinted at the skylight behind the sashes and banners. Nearly twilight; she must have lost track of time. The War Room had an hourglass, she noticed, but no clocks. “Yeah, I should probably go. Bright and early tomorrow, Di?” “Yeah. I’ll meet you for breakfast.” The chill of dried sweat clung to Silver’s neck and the pillow felt damp on her cheek. Silver Spoon’s eyes popped open to find her room pitch black, save for the bright blue rectangle of the fish tank. Her hooves trembled when she reached for her glasses, though she couldn’t say why. A dream, probably. Shards of it cluttered in the back of Silver’s head (ivy walls and roses and wisteria… she’d been in Silver Estate for some reason?) but they faded before she could grasp them. Just as well. Judging from her shaking hooves, it hadn’t been a dream worth remembering. Silver drew back her lace curtains. She couldn’t find the moon, and a sliver of pale light curved over the horizon. Not quite dawn, only the overture. There’d be little point in going back to sleep; in about two hours, Diamond would show up for their walk to school. Young ladies, of course, knew the benefits of extra time. Besides, when did she ever have that time all to herself? Not even Tacks would be awake yet. After a quick shower and currying her coat, Silver fed her fish—Ferdinand always seemed to be awake—and checked her day planner. She blinked at it, her hooves busy braiding her mane. Interesting. Silver glanced up at her betta fish. “The Baltimare pageant’s this weekend, Ferdinand. We’re ahead of schedule.” Well ahead. All they had left were voice exercises and regular practice, but even then, practice seemed less of necessity and more of superstitious habit. Diamond had all but mastered the routine last Friday, and Silver Spoon told her so all weekend. Diamond had just shaken her head and “patiently” explained that Silver was too new to pageants to know a perfect routine. Watching the same steps got boring after the eightieth time, but it did seem to make Diamond feel better about the whole thing. “It’s still something to do, anyway.” Silver flicked her tail, watching Ferdinand nip at his gourmet fish flakes. “Not that it matters.” Ferdinand’s nose bumped against Silver’s reflection on the glass. His blue fins waved in the water and he stared back at her with blank amber eyes. “I mean, yeah, it matters to Diamond Tiara, but she’s fine. Better than fine, probably.” New money had nowhere to go but up. In a generation or two, her family would be old money. As far as Ponyville was concerned, it already was. In the corner of Silver’s eye, the closet door hung wide open to show off her downsized, though impressive, wardrobe. How long had it been since she’d worn her Hoity Toity lace saddle? The silk Prim Hemline dress? The velvet cape with the jeweled clasp that Gran Jeté made for her? How long since she’d had a reason to? Silver’s ears drooped. “Toplofty was right, Ferdinand. They invited me out of pity. I know Mother said it’s important to keep up appearances, but…” But who’d even look? Silver Spoon sniffed and rubbed her eyes before any tears had a chance to mess up her coat. She lashed her tail, furious with herself. “It’s stupid, crying like this.” What right did she have to complain when she still lived in one of the best houses in town? Other families had borne far worse luck. They could all be crammed in some leaky tenement, Mother and Father working their hooves to the bone and forgotten entirely by polite society. The whisperings at Wisteria proved that the Silvers remained worth talking about, at the very least. Now that she thought on it, most of her former classmates seemed impressed at how little she’d changed and how well she’d maintained her airs, despite everything. Palanquin had never been Silver Spoon’s friend, but she’d always upheld a modest respect throughout their rivalry. That hadn’t gone away, either. Silver turned back to Ferdinand, who seemed more interested in the ferns than her crises. “It’s not like we’re ruined, right?” She swallowed the knot in her throat with a resolute nod. “I know we’re not. Granddad said so.” He’d laughed at the very idea and said if Father had been ruined, Silver Spoon wouldn’t have asked that question, because she’d already know. Something occurred to her, then. Silver Spoon frowned and tilted her head at Ferdinand, trying to keep an eye on him as he navigated his castle. “Wait, you don’t really know Granddad Silver Tongue, do you? You had to stay behind when we all left for my cuteceañera.” That wouldn’t do at all! Even if Ferdinand wasn’t a pony, Father introduced him into their home, and that made him family. It meant Ferdinand was a Silver. Yes, a smaller, scalier Silver with gills who didn’t talk much, but a Silver all the same. The task became clear. Silver Spoon reached behind the tank stand and pulled out a crystal bowl set on wheels for travel. She’d promised to only use it for visits to the vet or Fluttershy’s house, show-and-tell demonstrations, and emergencies. This counted as an emergency. She filled the travel bowl with tank water, double-checked the pH balance and temperature, and dipped in the net. Ferdinand tried to make a break for Spoon Castle, but Silver’s net blocked him off and swept him up. “Relax,” Silver mumbled around the handle. “Nopony likes a drama king, Ferdie.” Gently, she released him in the travel bowl. The betta’s long, elegant fins snapped through the water indignantly. Clearly, this hadn’t been how he imagined his morning to go, but he’d just have to deal with it. “We must adapt to our circumstances like gentlefish, Ferdinand. There’s something I need to show you.” With care, Silver Spoon closed the door behind her and wheeled the fishbowl down the hall. Around the corner, she could hear Father’s soft snores. He must have left the master bedroom door open again. A tiny spark of anger flared in Silver’s chest. She couldn’t understand how he could have let it happen. Had Father only been more careful with the finances and more watchful of his allies, they wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. Hadn’t he known how his decisions would affect everypony around him? She looked down with a sigh. Of course he had. More than anypony. He’d done his best, surely; a pony could do little more. Still, Silver couldn’t help but be a little angry at him, and at the same time, ashamed for feeling so. The clocks struck six. Everypony’d wake up in half an hour, and Silver had no desire to explain the fishbowl in her hooves. “C’mon, Ferdinand.” They cut through the open foyer, shadows of the balcony trailing close behind them. Past the century-old vases, paintings, and opera awards, the dark of the house brightened when they approached the main hall. Along the walls, twelve little lights lit a path down the burgundy carpet. Each one illuminated a portrait. “Ten generations of Silvers.” Silver Spoon’s whisper filled the hallway. She pointed to the cherrywood frame with a little spoon fastened to the bottom. “Eleven, counting me, but you already know me.” Silver rotated the fishbowl toward the opposite wall. A cheerful grey pegasus with clouds of curly white mane beamed down at Ferdinand, ready to reach out and shake his fin. A gold pin shone on the lapel of his blue blazer. “Cousin Silver Lining got into The Wonderbolts last year. The real one, not the reserves.” Silver Spoon grinned. Even in oil paint, that smile was contagious. “See those goggles? I bet he sweet-talked the painter into letting him wear them for the portrait.” She tugged the bowl a few inches so Ferdinand could see the picture next to it. “He’s Auntie Frames’ son, see?” Father and Silver Frames looked so bizarre without their hats, and in that sequined party dress, Auntie seemed another pony altogether. “She’s got an art gallery too, in Canterlot. It’s smaller than the one in Manehattan, but Father says hers is more prestigious.” Ferdinand stared at it for a few moments, then turned back to Silver Spoon, bubbling. He seemed impatient, but that only meant Silver knew how to do a proper build up. Time for the moment he’d been waiting for. Balancing carefully on her rear hooves, Silver lifted the bowl to her chest so he could get the best view possible. “There he is: Granddad Silver Tongue.” The patriarch of the Silver clan stared with pale, severe eyes that reminded Silver Spoon of detention slips. A green ribbon, bright against his storm-grey coat, tied back his white mane and matched his ascot pin. “Granddad’s nice, even if he doesn’t smile a lot. He’s got one of the oldest law firms in Equestria and he’s never lost a case, Ferdinand. Not one, ever. I think he’s been a lawyer almost as long as Ponyville’s been a town, and Silver Estate’s almost as big as Sweet Apple Acres. He inherited it, you know.” That posed an interesting question. When Granddad passed on, the Estate went to Auntie Frames, but who would get it after her? “Silver Lining should get it, but he’s so fond of his cloud house, I can’t imagine him giving it up. Plus, he always says the estate creeps him out.” Silver Spoon flicked an ear in thought and hummed. “So… does that mean it’d be mine?” Technically speaking, another pony ought to be in line before all of them, but… Silver Spoon set Ferdinand’s bowl back on the carpet and turned him towards the parlor entrance, and the portrait watching over it. “Great Uncle Silver Chalice is Granddad’s brother. He knows more about earth pony magic than almost any scholar in Equestria. Smart Cookie University even named a grant after him.” She grew quiet again, swishing her tail as she considered the small oval frame. Once, not very long ago, another portrait hung in their penthouse. One of a pale, younger stallion with thick glasses and a slight underbite. He’d snuck Silver Spoon extra slices of cake at weddings and liked to sing. Silver looked over her shoulder at the long lines of ancestors, pawing the rug uncertainly. She really shouldn’t, but… maybe it’d be okay if she said it just this once. For educational purposes. Leaning over the lip of the fishbowl, she whispered, “Cous—um… Silver Shill used to be Silver Chalice’s heir, but then he did something and now he’s not part of the family anymore.” Ferdinand swam a semicircle around the bowl, waving his long, fanned tail. “No, I don’t know what he did. It must have been really bad, though.” Whatever ruined looked like, it probably looked a lot like Silver Shill right now. “We’re not really supposed to talk about him.” Ferdinand and Silver Spoon moved on to more respectable members of the Silver family, each one marked with prestige and honor: Silver Screen, the film director; Silver Swift, renowned ornithologist; Silver Platter, master chef and infamous playboy; the composer, Silver Song; marathon runner, Silver Medal; and Great-Great-Great-Great Grandmare Silver Jubilee, savior of the family history. At the end of the hallway hung the forebearer to them all, a mare older than Equestria itself. “Ferdinand, this is Silver Sword.” The only pony in the hall without a portrait, nor a painting, but a full scene upon a tapestry. Silver Sword reared back, caught in the midst of battle with a rapier between her teeth and timberwolves gnashing at her hooves. A reproduction, of course—the real thing hung in Silver Estate—but a copy still did the trick. Ferdinand bubbled, surely impressed. Silver Spoon nodded, satisfied. “She used to be a swordsmith for the Unicorn Kingdom, but one day she decided to teach other earth ponies how to forge swords for themselves. She taught them how to swordfight, too. Father says she even trained Princess Luna.” Auntie Frames argued that claim hadn’t been verified and only appeared in family legend, but that was beside the point. Staring up at the tapestry, Silver Spoon sank to her haunches beside the fishbowl. “So, that’s it. That’s our legacy.” Ten generations and over ten centuries of Silvers; a family tree with dozens of branching aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmothers, and in-laws. All ending at Silver Spoon’s new, thin branch. “Ferdinand, I’ve been thinking about something Mrs. Rich told me.” Silver hugged the bowl close and stared into the betta’s flat, amber eyes. Eyes not unlike Father’s, actually. “Father made a mistake, but he did his best to fix it. Nothing’s happened to me, though. I’m in the clear. So far, I’ve… well, I think I’ve done everything right.” The cool wall pressed against Silver’s neck as she sat back. At the far end of the hall, rays of sunlight slid through the windows and over the carpet. In the daylight, the portraits’ lights dimmed, but didn’t turn out. They never did. “A rose is still a rose, whether it grows in a vase or a paint can, right?” Ferdinand tried to nibble at a stray strand of hair dangling over his bowl. He didn’t really get garden metaphors. She angled her head back and stared. Silver Sword’s rapier slashed through the air, a finishing blow frozen in time. A fighter. Silver Sword never let herself fall into despair, not in unicorn dungeons, or elegant courtyards, or battlefields. Ten generations didn’t crumble from one bad financial move; the Silvers were made of sterner stuff. The heavy, wilting feeling that had lingered in Silver Spoon’s chest didn’t go away, but she felt it harden into something else. Something she could use. “We’re not ruined, Ferdinand. Just tarnished.” Silver Spoon narrowed her eyes and rose to her hooves. “And I’m the one holding the polish.” Yes. A new day, a new chance to honor the family name with all the nobility and refinement that befitted a Silver. Time to turn it all around! Glancing back at her betta fish, Silver’s shoulders sagged with a groan. “Now if only I knew how.” “…but in the south, dwindling supplies in the Earth Pony Nation would eventually lead to more tension with the Unicorn Kingdom.” Miss Cheerilee glanced at the clock and smiled. “Alright, I think that’s enough for now, my little ponies. Tomorrow, we’ll pick up on page three-hundred-ninety-four, so try and read ahead!” Silver Spoon double-checked the clock as the classroom already began to fidget. Twenty minutes before the bell. She frowned. “Strange. Cheerilee almost never ends class early.” Not without a reason. Whispers of an early skyball game flitted between Rumble, Cotton Cloudy, and Featherweight, already picking out the teams. A row down, Scootaloo watched them out of the corner of her eye, one ear tilted towards the conversation and the other toward Sweetie blabbing about some stupid crusading junk. She’d done it during class, too. The featherbrain didn’t even notice that Cheerilee obviously wasn’t done yet. She probably hadn’t heard a single word of the lecture at all. I still don’t get why Scootaloser sits up front. Silver tapped her pen upon her notebook cover irritably. If she’s not gonna even try to get good grades, she should just sit in back with the other failures and make room for ponies who actually want to learn. Diamond Tiara, who’d been oddly quiet today, turned in her seat and shot Silver a look. She, at least, knew something was up. Miss Cheerilee had more spring in her step than usual today. She’d grin and bounce in place every now and then, or hum little songs while she wrote on the chalkboard. Like somepony with a fun secret. But Silver’s knowledge of the situation ended there, so she nodded and parried back with a wait-and-see shrug. They’d know in a few minutes. Sure enough, Cheerilee made a motion for the class to settle. “Now, before we leave, there’s just ooooone more thing.” A third of the class groaned, while the more perceptive foals sat up, curious. The Goofsaders finally caught on and exchanged excited, curious whispers. “Today we have two very special guests with a very special announcement!” Cheerilee practically squealed with excitement. “Everypony, welcome the head of the Equestria Games, Ms. Harshwhinny!” The door opened and a familiar jolt of alarm shot up Silver Spoon’s back. On instinct, she smoothed the frays in her braid and readjusted her glasses. Ms. Harshwhinny carried herself with all the stringency of a Wisterian instructor, maybe more. She reviewed the purpose of the Games with hard pristine diction that could even make Miss Sugarcoat flinch. Finally, she got to the point. “Now you littlest ones will have the chance to compete for a weighty responsibility of your very own.” At the word “compete”, Diamond shot up in her chair. Her eyes narrowed with a hungry focus, and she beat a little rhythm on her desk with anxious hooves. Whatever cards Harshwhinny held, Di seemed to call them. “Oh come on!” A voice in jarring contrast to the gamemaster’s rang out near the back of the room. “Tell ‘em the fun part!” Berry Pinch ducked a second before Rainbow Dash zoomed through the back window, soaring inches above her horn tip. The pegasus banked left and spun into a sharp landing to cheers and whoops from the classroom. The Dink laughed and nodded to Silver and Berry Pinch. “Whoa, nice!” Silver smoothed her tousled mane back into place. “Yeah, but she could have just walked through the door.” Now she’d have to suffer Scootaloser ranting about it all month. “All you gotta do is show Ms. Harshwhinny the coolest, most spectacular, most rocking routine and you're goin’ to the Games!” Miss Rainbow Dash’s enthusiasm caught the classroom like wildfire. “So who’s gonna be the lucky ponies?!” With a confident flip of her mane, Diamond smirked as if it were a trick question. She played it cool, but Silver felt the ravenous zeal from back row. “It’s gotta be me.” By which she means “us”. Silver Spoon frowned, idly observing Snips and Snails make fools of themselves. She didn’t quite know how she felt about that, yet. Helping Di shine onstage is one thing, but… “You ponies,” Harshwhinny continued, “will form teams.” A team of two, no doubt. If we’re carrying the flag, no way Di’s gonna trust anypony else to let them on our team. Not after losing the talent show, and definitely not after that burn from The Foal Free Press. While Diamond Tiara still held no qualm about attracting or leading a crowd, Silver noticed that she rarely hung out with anypony else these days. Besides Silver, only Berry Pinch met up with her outside school. She still seemed willing to hang out with The Dink and Cotton—they pulled enough social rank to hang out, no matter what—but Cotton usually split off with Tornado Bolt and Rumble for company. Likewise, The Dink had her posse of would-be supernatural sleuths. In any case, it’d be just Diamond and Silver this time. No safety nets, no fall-ponies. Silver took quick detailed notes on Harshwhinny’s lecture about the scoring system. She made a mental note to personally ask about more details later, if possible. A whistle shriek pierced Silver’s concentration. Her pen careened off course, smearing an ugly ink trail across her orderly notes. She huffed, brushing off her alarm while Rainbow Dash waxed nostalgic about her own flag carrying experience. Silver understood that an experienced pony ought to coach the teams, but this hardly seemed the time or place to fly down memory lane. She flipped her tail. And did Rainbow need to be so loud about it? No wonder Scootaloo likes her. Thankfully, the gamemaster knew how to rope in overenthusiasm, and Silver could refocus on her notes. So, Harshwhinny’s on the judges’ table. That’s doable. If Diamond didn’t know how to handle her type, Silver Spoon definitely did. No skirting on charm or flair here, it’d need to be all routine. A routine of two ponies and an audience of goodness knew how many ponies from all over Equestria. All to represent Ponyville. The wilting feeling returned. Silver looked around. Eager little faces surrounded her, all of whom knew and loved their hometown like their own kin. She sighed. Style, grace, and originality? No problem. But the theme? The flag dangled at the front of the room accusingly. That needs some work. Rainbow Dash adjusted her cap, suddenly serious. Almost professional. “In the meantime, get ready to train, and train hard because I know this opening ceremony is the single most important thing that will ever happen in your young lives!” Silver’s ears swiveled forward. Surely, that had to be exaggeration. Right? A glance around the room told her otherwise. Featherweight tensed, more solemn than he’d been all semester. Berry Pinch nodded while Tornado Bolt whispered in her ear. Scootaloo actually looked ready to faint. Diamond Tiara glanced back at Silver Spoon with a severe nod. Glancing away, Silver nodded in return. Though perhaps overexcited, Rainbow didn’t exactly seem to exaggerate. She did carry the flag for Cloudsdale. If anypony here would know, it’d be her. Harshwhinny didn’t seem to disagree, either. “The important thing is to show what Ponyville means to you.” Silver Spoon swore she zeroed in on her at that part. “So do Ponyville proud. Work hard. Be bold.” The judge allowed herself a little smirk. “Wow me.” And that was all. The classroom emptied out around Silver’s desk, alive with discussion, strategies, and bragging. Silver reviewed the notes and stayed in her seat. Clever young ladies knew how to read between the lines. Ms. Harshwhinny and Rainbow Dash never mentioned prize money, trophies, or ribbons. The real prizes were the most valuable things in the world: Honor. Pride. Renown. Glory. There would be no runner-ups, just winners and losers. Silver couldn’t remember much of the last Games, but she remembered Manehattan turning itself inside out anticipating its arrival. She’d be too old to carry the flag by the time they rolled around again; a one-time offer. With a deep breath, Silver Spoon steadied herself. Feeling eyes upon her, she lifted her head, unsurprised to discover Diamond Tiara. The pink filly stood a desk away in the empty classroom, stone-faced and silent. “This is big,” whispered Silver. “Isn’t it?” “The biggest.” Diamond stepped forward, sizing up her partner to see if she’d blink. “Silvie, I need you to be all in with this. Like, I mean, really in on this. Okay?” The stillness of the classroom made Silver’s skin itch under her coat. She slid her books into her saddlebag and met Diamond face to face. “Yeah, I know. And I am.” Hadn’t this been exactly what she wanted? Fillies young as Silver Spoon held a short list of opportunities to redeem their family name. This couldn’t rebuild it, nor get their money back, but a significant checkpoint on their legacy nonetheless. Plus, it looked good on resumes. “I’m all in, Di.” She held out her hoof. “Bump?” Diamond grinned. “Bump.” They sugar-lump-rumped and went into town. If Sugarcube Corner wasn’t crowded, they could map out initial strategy plans and get a sugar boost. With no need for the scenic route, Diamond decided to cut through the train station for time. Luckily, today had slow traffic and the next train seemed to be late. They’d a reasonably smooth path, aside from the crowd of grumbling ponies waiting for the Three-Fifteen. Weaving around a mountain of ugly luggage, Di looked over her shoulder. “She said our time limit’s two minutes, right?” “Excuse me, sir!” Silver squeezed between a pole and a particularly rotund stallion, clutching her notebook close to her chest. “Three, max. We’ll need to keep it tight.” Her green highlighter circled the time limit and date. …Wait a second. She thought back to her planner and frowned. “Hey, you know the pageant’s still in four days, right?” “Sure,” Diamond said a little too quickly. “What about it?” “We’re going to the Crystal Empire in three. I don’t think we’ve got time for—” “I know how to multitask.” Diamond dismissed her with a flick of the tail. “You said I nailed down the pageant routine, right?” Oh, so now she decides to believe me. “Okay, but regionals start at nine in the morning and the flag contest doesn’t even end until three.” She struggled to see over an ocean of shoulders as Diamond began pulling away from her. “It’s in Baltimare, Di! That’s halfway across—” “I said I’ve got it, Silver Spoon! You just worry about our flag.” Diamond rose to her back hooves and pointed at a bench. “Hey, isn’t that your dad?” “Don’t change the subject, we need…” Silver squinted through the throng of bodies. That did kind of look like Father’s brown waistcoat and good hat. “We need a plan.” She finally managed to weave through the commuters and, indeed, found herself facing her father. “Told you,” sniffed Diamond Tiara. Silver knitted her eyebrows at Father’s canvas bag. “Father, you’re not going to Canterlot already? You said you had the whole week off.” “Oh, hello, Brightness.” Father smiled and shook his head. “No, I’m waiting for somepony. Travelogue’s bringing me some itinerary materials. You remember my old assistant, don’t you?” He adjusted his monocle, amused. “Good afternoon, Miss Diamond Tiara. Don’t you look serious today!” “Afternoon, Silver Laurel. Sorry, but we’re a little busy right now.” Diamond glanced between him and Silver Spoon. She smiled too innocently. “We’re planning our flag routine for the Games.” “The Equestria Games?” Father’s pale eyebrows lifted to the brim of his hat. “You’re representing Ponyville, Silver Spoon?” Silver shot Diamond a look and stepped back. “Um. Yes?” “Why, that’s wonderful, Brightness!” Entirely forgetting the agreed-upon decorum, Father kissed Silver Spoon’s nose in front of the whole station. “I’m so glad you’re finally adjusting! I knew the place would grow on you eventually.” “Oh, uh…” Silver Spoon rubbed the back of her neck with an awkward little laugh. Ponies had stopped to look at them. “Yes, I guess I am.” In the corner of her eye, Diamond Tiara watched with a quiet, thoughtful smile. “Travelogue!” Father waved down the museum associate stepping down from the train. “My little girl’s going to carry the flag in the Games!” “Really?” The tan mare beamed as she magically sorted through her bag for the proper envelope. With a spare hoof, she gave Silver Spoon a pat on the head. “Gosh, she’s getting so big, Laurel! Last time I saw her she didn’t even reach the reception desk, and now flag carrying.” She giggled and gave Diamond a wink. “I bet you two are a team, huh?” Diamond grinned and winked back. “We sure are, ma’am!” Travelogue practically melted at Diamond’s prizewinning smile. “Ohhh, that’s so sweet. Laurel, you just have to tell Madame Frames! You could all go to the Empire and watch.” Silver Spoon paled. “I don’t know if we need to go through that much trou—” “Wonderful idea, Travelogue.” Father rubbed his chin, nodding at the idea. “We might even invite Dad along too. Heavens know he needs the fresh air.” Silver stepped out of range before anypony moved in for another hug. She couldn’t be sure if the smiling crowd around them had more to do with the train arrival or this awful spectacle of family affection. Either way, all these eyes made her teeth clench. “We’ve still got a lot of work to do, we’d better go. I’ll see you at home, Father.” She bowed her head and deftly slipped back into the crowd. “Nice meeting you again, Miss Travelogue.” She spied an opening and bolted from the station as quickly as good taste allowed. In the distance, her father enthusiastically shared the news with Roseluck. Great, now the fifth-biggest gossip in town knew. In less than a day, so would everypony in a ten-mile radius. Not looking up at the hoofsteps approaching from behind, Silver flattened her ears. “You did that on purpose.” “Sure I did. Networking and promotion’s good for us. Better they hear it from somepony on our side, right?” Diamond observed the clouds, twirled a lavender strand of her hair, breezy and casual. Too casual. “Mm. Dunno what the issue is.” The other shoe dangled by a thread. Silver Spoon braced herself and waited for it. Two seconds. Ten seconds. “I mean…” Diamond stopped twirling her hair and stared Silver in the eye. “It’s not like you’re ashamed of Ponyville or anything. Right?” Silver curled her tail around her haunches. "Um. Well, I—" Diamond Tiara dropped her smile. “Don’t lie to me.” “I…” There’d be no deterring a determined Diamond. She took a breath. “I’m not sure how I feel, okay?” She felt her voice threatening to break, but Silver held it back. “It’s just that after all the stuff at Wisteria and… Di, I’m not ashamed of it, I do like Ponyville. It’s nice.” The steel eased out of Diamond’s stance, though she still frowned. The tip of her tail gave an impatient twitch. “But?” Silver met her eyes and sighed. “Di, we’re supposed to put a routine together about what makes Ponyville great and what it means to us and stuff, but I don’t even really know what that is, and now that everypony knows, everypony’s watching and expects us to win—" “Silver.” “And now Father’s inviting Auntie Silver Frames and Granddad Silver Tongue, so I just know they’ll invite Silver Lining too and then he’s going to tell all of his—” “Silver Spoon!” Diamond Tiara gripped Silver’s shoulders hard. “Lookit me. Are you a loser?” Blindsided, Silver blinked and took a step back, ears flattened. “Of course not.” “Good. Me neither. You and me, we’re winners. Winners win. That’s what we’re gonna do.” Diamond looped a foreleg over Silver’s withers and gave her an encouraging squeeze. “You said it yourself: we’re the best fillies this little town has to offer.” Silver offered a slight nod. True, she did say that last year. It was no less true now, right? “Right. We’ve got reputations to uphold. Appearances to keep.” “There you go, then.” With another shoulder pat, the two of them moved on through town. Diamond smoothed into her practiced showmare’s trot, waving to choice passersby. One would think she’d won the right to bear the flag weeks ago. “Try looking at it this way, Silvie: you can tell the value of a company by the quality of its product. Like, less than half the ponies in town don’t even know who Bleu Rondo is, but everypony knows a good saddlebag when they see it, so they know it’s a good brand.” “That does make sense,” Silver admitted. After all, the entire point of carrying the flag was to represent her hometown. A hometown could do no less than put its best fillies forward. “It can’t be a one-horse town if ponies like us come out of it, right?” “Exactly. There’s nothing wrong with Ponyville, it’s just kinda small. It’s maybe a third Canterlot’s size, but here’s the thing about that: Canterlot’s also a jillion years old.” Diamond kicked aside an acorn and watched a squirrel snatch it up. Chittering, the squirrel whisked its fluffy tail and skittered across the road. “Ponyville’s still pretty young, like us, so it’s still on the shrimpy side. It’s growing, though. It used to be a bunch of zap apples and tents, but now—” “Now it’s got a lot more.” Silver’s eyes followed the squirrel as it zipped up the trunk of an oak tree and ricocheted off a swing sign. The sign for Golden Oak Library’s daytime hours. Slowly, an idea knitted together in Silver’s head. “And we have something almost no other place has.” Slowly, a grin spread across her face. “We’ve got—” “A princess!” Diamond Tiara threw back her head with a triumphant bark of laughter. She took up another acorn in the frog of her hoof. “I think we just found our theme.” “And we have a plan.” They had direction. Order. Finesse. The last of the tension eased out of Silver’s chest. With solid footing underhoof, she could finally move forward. The sunlight glinted off Silver Spoon’s glasses. “So. Who do we have to beat?” She should have taken notes on their competition before everypony scattered into town. It couldn’t be too hard to suss out the serious threats among classmates, though. Diamond Tiara chewed her bottom lip, considering it. “You sit next to The Dink, right? Is she still trying to catch that… what is it this week?” “Still after a chat with old lady Root Work.” She’d been nagging Silver to spare thyme and cinnamon for the past three days so she could waste it on a luck spell. “I don’t think she’ll drop it for the flag.” “Meaning she either won’t do it at all, or go halfway and drop out. Snips and Snails are… well, Snips and Snails.” Diamond glanced up at Tornado Bolt passing over head. Rumble and Cotton fluttered a few wingbeats behind, laughing about something. “We’ll keep an eye on who Cotton teams with.” Good idea. That pegasus had a tendency to sneak up on ponies. “She’s got talent, but I don’t think she’s too creative.” On a good day, Tornado could be, but only when she managed to focus. If they teamed up again, it could be trouble. “Twist said that Dinky said that Golden Harvest said Peachy Pie’s going to a fair this weekend. Some kinda farming thing.” “If Peachy’s not doing it, neither is Sunny Daze. Featherweight’s busy with the newspaper.” For a split second, Diamond gritted her teeth in a snarl. “So he’s in the same boat as The Dink. Truffle and Twist are in—I heard ‘em talking after class—but I don’t think we need to worry there.” “Probably not.” They’d do it for fun, not to win. Button didn’t care about anything without joysticks and Shady Daze was still mooning after The Dink. “What about Pinch?” Silver had never actually seen her compete for anything, but the kid had an irritating amount of spunk. Diamond shrugged. “She’s probably in, but who knows who her team’s gonna be. Let’s keep an eye out for her, too.” She pricked her ears and glared over her shoulder. “That just leaves one more group.” Not far away, a trio of familiar voices sang together in all the loud and boisterous harmony of somepony banging pots together. Two of them sounded halfway decent, but the third’s awful claws-on-chalkboard pitch made Silver’s tail frizz. For the love of Tea Leaf, don’t they ever give it a break? Silver Spoon rolled her eyes at the blank flanks parading over the hillside, prouder than phoenix fledglings. They stepped with an unfounded and unearned confidence, and their intent couldn’t be clearer. Their competition had arrived. “Ugh.” Silver’s coat rumpled at the very thought of it. Indeed, she’d have laughed off the very concept a year ago—but thirteen months and several wins later, it wasn’t funny anymore. “We gotta nip that in the bud.” A sneer rippled across Diamond’s muzzle. “Now.” She glanced at Silver Spoon, daring her to say differently. Silver flicked her tail and had to point out, “We also agreed to lay off them, Diamond. They’re nothing but trouble.” Little monkey wrenches with hooves and bad hair, all of them. Silver suspected it was bad luck even standing this close. “Different game, Silver Spoon. This isn’t like that small stuff, this is business.” The filly had a point. Besides, those careless, self-satisfied grins had been biting at Silver’s skin all week. “Now, Diamond, don’t be so dramatic. It’s only a friendly competition, after all. We should be good sports.” A wicked smile twitched at Silver’s muzzle. “Let’s wish them luck.” “Hmm. I suppose it’s only fair to let them know what they’re up against.” Diamond Tiara nodded to herself with a sigh. “We’re so nice.” The loser brigade hadn’t even noticed them and wandered straight into Diamond and Silver’s path, still singing to themselves in passable harmony. Sweetie Belle tripped on something and all three stumbled into the dirt. What would have happened if they’d pulled that stunt at the Games? Appalling. But, because they were such good sports, Diamond and Silver gave them a round of applause anyway. It went unappreciated. Apple Bloom glared at them as she helped Sweetie up. Scootaloo lashed her tail, rubbing the wing she’d fallen on. Smoothly, Diamond swept in to circle them, Silver on her tail. She looked them up and down with a confidant scoff. “If that’s the best you’ve got, we’re going to win for sure.” Silver Spoon lifted her head, demonstrating the calm, aristocratic stride of proper young ladies. “We already have the most divine routine planned.” Technically not true, but it may as well have been. Either of them could cough up a routine in their sleep and it’d still be leagues ahead of whatever tawdry song-and-dance number the Goofsaders slapped together. “It’s absolutely sure to crush the competition.” Diamond Tiara’s little smile swelled into a ferocious grin. She smashed her hooves together with a take-no-prisoners clack, staring straight into the eyes of their enemies. “And I mean crush!” Sadly, such an admirable throw down seemed lost on the audience. Scootaloo’s grating optimism didn’t dim a watt. “But we’re winners!” Her voice climbed an octave with a bizarre warble, almost as if she was about to— “And we have hearrrts!” Silver Spoon gritted her teeth and recoiled. She ought to petition the Mayor about noise violations; singing with that voice could not be legal. On the other hoof, it did give her a prime opening. “Sure,” Silver purred. She signaled to Diamond for a unified hit as her voice coiled sweetly to strike. “But you know what you don’t have?” “Your cutie marks!” The pair pounced upon their rivals, beautifully united in a rapid-fire assault. “Blank flanks!” They emptied out the artillery and attacked without mercy. “Blank flanks!” Every shot hit the mark, no room for recovery, no place to breathe. Every syllable stomped these irritating nobodies back into their place. “Blank flanks!” Not a scratch. Apple Bloom blinked, unimpressed. “What does that have to do with flag carryin’?” That was… unexpected. Silver Spoon frowned. It’s one thing to let yourself look bad, but your entire town? Your families? How selfish can you get? Apparently she’d just have to spell it out for them. “Having cutie markless ponies represent Ponyville would be unthinkable!” “And we already have our cutie marks,” Diamond added. Together, they displayed the marks of fillies who actually knew themselves, fillies going places. The only fillies worthy to bear the flag. “So we know who’s going to be in the winner’s circle.” Scootaloo had none of it. None of them did. “Listen, you two!” In a whirl of feathers, the ratty pegasus got in Diamond’s face. For a moment, Silver thought Di actually flinched. Surely, she’d imagined it. “Cutie marks or no cutie marks, you’ll see! The Crusaders are gonna carry that flag at the Games!” Silver twitched her ears and took a small step closer to Diamond, watching closely. She saw none of the typical burning rage so common to Diamond’s past Crusader campaigns. The fires in her eyes cooled into the iron stare of a competitor and it honed in on Scootaloo. At least for now, she respected this kid. Indeed, this was business. Okay, so we’re doing this. Silver Spoon buried any remaining hesitation under a superior smile and said what one always says to ponies about to lose. “May the best ponies win.” “Game on!” Nopony could mistake the tension in Scootaloo’s spine, nor the flare of her little wings, or the fire in her voice. Not to mention the fact that she’d done almost all of the talking. Silver adjusted her glasses with a quiet hum. Apple Bloom was not the pony to look out for this time. Scootaloo wanted this as much as Silver and Diamond did. Maybe more. Too bad she wouldn’t get it. The parties split without further exchange. A small twinge of doubt fluttered in Silver’s stomach. She still didn’t know what they’d do for a routine—an entire new routine in two days!—nor what Di’s further plans of attack could be. Still, nopony knew bottom lines the way Diamond did. Silver could trust her plan, whatever it was. A lady had her duties. Nopony worth their good name could fall to these charlatans. No matter what happened between now and the Games, nothing came between them and that flag. As if sensing Silver’s thoughts, Diamond Tiara locked eyes with her. Together, they nodded. Failure was a luxury neither of them could afford. The Cutie Mark Crusaders could not, under any circumstances, be allowed to win.