//------------------------------//
// Chapter 20: Theater of the Mind 
// Story: Hand in Hoof 
// by AdamThePony 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 20: Theater of the Mind


"You know, as much as I'm getting used to being like this, is there any particular reason I have to be nude again?

Nia and I were sat in a room around a pattern of tall, waxy scented candles that were set up in a traditional arcane hexagram, with Juno sitting outside of it for observational purposes. The smells of vanilla, jasmine, lavender and hemp left a distinct haze in the air as Nia folded her legs.

"The type of therapy I am about to attempt is one that is spiritually invasive," Nia explained as she moved her forelegs to an inaudible rhythm. "In essence, I am going to channel a small portion of my chi into your body through the focal points of your magical circuit in order to try to clear it of obstructions and blockages."

I clutched my body defensively. "That sounds incredibly dangerous."

"The process does possess some danger, yes," Nia replied with a nod. "In essence, it is much akin to flooding a beaver's dam; while it will restore flow to stagnant waters, the sheer force required can be quite disruptive."

I began to squeeze myself tighter out of some barely suppressed instinct. "That's not exactly inspiring confidence in me, Nia."

"I am aware of the dangers, Lance." Nia whispered, leaning in close. "I would normally never do this to someone, but if what you have is a cancer, then I am effectively about to perform chemotherapy."

I could feel my blood running colder, my nostrils burning from the sudden chill in the room. "Am I going to die?"

As Nia positioned me in a manner of relative comfort, she gave an almost sisterly smile.

"I would not be performing this procedure if I was not aware of the risks," the zebra replied, standing over me as she rubbed her hooves together. "This process is certain to be quite taxing on your body. I will do everything in my capacity to keep you from anything life-threatening, but I make no promises that this will be painless or effortless.

"And so I must ask you one question: Do you trust me?"

I nodded quickly, sweat running down my forehead. "I trusted you enough to train under you."

"That is not enough," Nia snapped, her tone much deeper. "To trust in someone's ability to teach is one thing, but to entrust your very life to them is another. Do you trust me?"

"I trust you!" I barked back, staring into those intense amber eyes of hers.

"Do you trust in my ability to save you from death or worse?" she asked, softer now as she noticed my trembling.

"My life is yours, master." I replied, calmed by the change in depth her eyes took. "Please, help me through this!"

"Then open yourself to me," she demanded, hooves at my chest and forehead. "Leave nothing between us and allow me your spirit to cleanse."

For but a few scarce moments, we looked to each other with ambition and fear in each other's eyes. Then, as the fire within them calmed, I let my arms return to their sides, taking a large sigh as I laid back.

"I'm yours, Nia," I breathed, eyes fixed to the ceiling. "But before you bring me under, I'd like to speak with Juno."

"What is it you need, master?" she asked, her voice equally tinged with concern.

"For right now, I'm making you Nia's nurse," I told her, trying my hardest to remain composed as I spoke. "Watch over us very carefully and follow every order she gives you. If anything goes wrong, intervene as needed. You've been a great help to me so far, and today, I'm entrusting you with a great task. Can I count on you?"

Juno knelt down, holding my hand in her hooves. "Yes, master," she promised with an affirmative shake of her head. "I will assist as well as I am able. I wish you the best of luck."

I smiled as I looked to her, her eyes looking as deep and as mysterious as any other mare, if only for a brief moment. She was a machine, but one that could think and feel like a pony. She was made to guard me, and for the first time since I'd had her, I gave her a chance to fulfill her duty.

"Thank you, Juno," I sighed, closing my eyes. "I hope the next time I get to see your face, it'll be with fresh, clean eyes."

"Please, do not worry," Juno pleaded. "I will be paying close attention."

As I closed my eyes, I felt Nia's cold, hard hooves touch my body, they felt like stethoscopes against my skin, probing me like metal.  At first, there were calm, soothing pulses coming from all about me. Then came a feeling of static electricity arcing across my skin as though I'd been unraveled from a blanket onto a bed of metal doorknobs. Then the electricity sizzled across my sinew, seizing my strength and commanding my muscles to spasm. Within me surged a storm too fierce in power and too immense in size for words to be described in simple terms. It was an excruciating sensation of hundreds of thousands of tiny, infinitesimal needles that were pinning down every fiber in my being in a cross-weave like a seamstress's stitch. Seconds passed like minutes, minutes like hours, and the strain seemed nigh impossible to bear. Some may even be inclined to call it torture disguised as therapy.

Then, for a few sparse moments, everything stopped. I heard nothing, saw nothing, and felt nothing. All sense and sensation were stripped from me, even the very beating of my heart. The cold, dim stillness of the world about me caused me to wonder if the shock of it all had done me in. There was nothing but pristine, quiet void to greet me now.

And then, a beat. A thump resounded around me. As feeling returned, I felt...lighter. Not in the sense of having lost weight or mass, of course, but rather that the tension that once wound my muscles together had been undone. I'd become like a spring finally uncoiled; a font of force and power, ready to be primed and released at my own will. Though I could not see them, my fingers flittered gleefully as awakened power flowed freely from them like little fountains, and I could hear the pitter-patter of rain against some indeterminate floor. With a raise of my hand, a light cast away the darkness, revealing before me a blindingly bright field of white flowers. I couldn't tell you what they might have been; for all I know, they could very well be the kind which bleed for fallen heroes. What I was certain of, however, was that the applauding shadow that stood tall amongst them most definitely was not welcome there.

"Well, isn't this just splendid?" called Iando from afar, just barely visible against the flowers "You've finally come upon the truth, have you?"

"As if it were any grand revelation?" I chided back. "The fact that you are most assuredly a blight was never exactly up to debate; the fact that you may have played a part in the the slaying and corruption of my kin, however, has given me much better reason to suspect you."

"You know, for a lad your age, you can be awfully grim," the shadow said back. "You know well enough that I'm too weak to do anything to you and you're too strong to be controlled." He sat down, plucking one of the flowers and giving it a sniff. "It's really kind of amusing to see how adamant you've been about this affair, even when I've been nothing but helpful for you."

I turned away, folding my arms. "Only because I'm likely more use to you alive than dead, is that right?"

"Ooh, how savvy!" Iando shook his fists gleefully. "You must think yourself a clever boy."

"I am clever," I snapped back as I walked away, not even so much as sparing a glance. "Too clever to be swayed by your semantics."

Iando simply threw his head back and laughed. "You say that now boy, but one of these days, you will be tempted. And when you are, it will be I that bears that illicit fruit."

"Then you'd best be patient!" I yelled, stamping my feet as I darted away. "I'm not going to be one of the men who sold the world!"

I didn't hear what Iando said next. I busied myself fleeing from the field. Was my running in vain? Maybe, but any place away from him was preferable to seeing him. Now that I knew in better detail the threat he posed to me, I'd made a goal of putting as much relative space between him and myself as I was able to. 

Within minutes, I was into the thick of the storm, knee-deep in a lightning-scorched prairie. Rain spattered over my streaking form, and between blinks, I could see two things for certain: That familiar flash of black and blue in the clouds, and an equally-familiar golden-brown visage of the unicorn who had saved me from scarecrow harassment. With each blink, the shining silhouettes drew closer to me and grew brighter more brilliant. Then, like a spear of divine judgement from an angry god, a bolt of lightning cracked down from the sky, striking the earth and setting ablaze the grass. Like a plague, it spread across the grass, nearly engulfing me in a snake-like coil. Infernal cords lashed out at me like the whip of a balrog as I sought to defend myself, only to cringe when the coil became tighter and tighter. Amidst the flames, I could see the unicorn's outline just in front of me. With a deft flick of his head, he cut a mighty swath of the flame, upturning the soil around  him to starve them of air. When I blinked next, he was face-to-muzzle with me, staring me down with stern sagacity.

"That would be the second time I have had to intervene," he hummed, baring a stare so scathing that it pushed me to my back. "Must you be reminded that you are able to control this realm?"

I shuddered away from my savior, his aura feeling like pure anathema to me. "Just because I'm capable of controlling this place, that doesn't mean I can just change it with a thought."

"Of course," growled the golden spirit. "Even when one is lucid to his subconscious, one requires focus to make it truly their own."

I scrambled to my feet, focusing on getting back my composure. 

"Just who are you, anyway?" I asked, hands at my sides.

"I have no name," said the spirit, shaking his head. "But if you have to call me something, let it be Schrodinger."

I rose an eyebrow. "Why Schrodinger?"

When next I blinked, the pony wanting to be called Schrodinger was barely a speck on the horizon.

"Because through some fault of this world of ours, I both exist and don't exist."


"What does that even mean?" I balked, calling out to the stallion.

Then, within my next few blinks, he was gone, swallowed by the dark. Though the thunder and lightning persisted, the fire was gone now, and even the light of the storm was not enough to see. Once again, I'd been reduced to stumbling in the dark. Time and direction were useless as I trekked in vain hope of catching that golden glimmer once more. Alas, no matter how much I persisted, I was lost on the moonless prairie.

"I'm blind in this darkness," I panted, nearly tripping over myself as I stopped for breath. "I can't see a thing anymore."

"It is not the lack of light that forbids you from seeing in the dark, dear Acolyte," suggested a matronly voice nearby. "Rather, it is because you do not allow yourself to see."

"Luna?" I whispered. "Is that you?"

"It might be," she teased. "But you will never know for certain until release your sight from its bondage and allow yourself to see the world as it truly is."

"But how do I manage that?" I asked. "Surely it can't be that simple."

"All you need do is guard your eyes from false visions," she answered. "Shut them, and when you open them next, know in your heart that you can see."

I admit, I was apprehensive of trusting such a honey-tongued voice. However, considering my circumstances and the fact that this voice was the only one with even a modicum of sensibility, I had no recourse. I shut my eyes, whispering "I will see clearly" to myself as I cleared my head.

And then, as my eyes fluttered open, I did indeed see again. I could see naught but black and white, but even in the monotone, Princess Luna's smiling visage greeted me from beneath a silken umbrella.

"And so the black iris yawns wide at last," she sighed, bringing me under her shade. "And with it, you now know Temperance. By learning to control the darkness, the darkness is clear as day to you."

Luna pointed off into the distance, where a keep laid in wait. "Go now, my dear mage. I am certain you can find your way now. May the next words and their power come to you in due time."

With a stretch of her wings, Luna seemed to jump between the shadows with barely even a gleam from her horn. I was tempted to follow her, but the steady structure ahead seemed much more worth investigating. I wasn't as concerned about my appearance, but as I neared the keep, I felt exceedingly more naked.

The spires of the keep before me spiraled up like toppings on a cake, with banners that were billowing in a battered way against the winds. Each was emblazoned with a heraldry that looked somewhat of a unicorn, but of a sort I'd never been familiar with. It was slender and tall, with tail more like a lion's and hooves more like a goat's, and with a more curved horn. On the windows, I saw scenes of these types of unicorns acting peaceably with my kin, who knelt before them with smiles and olive branches, invited them to feasts, and in one particular image, fighting alongside one another against a tide of shadow. It all gave me a strange feeling of deja vu. Not the images, but the castle they were attached to. This place felt familiar to me, and yet when I tried to search my head for a reason why, I came up empty.

Thankfully, by the time I neared the door, I didn't need to think.

Before me stood two watchmen, dressed in padded linens and wielding halberds. They bore the icons of the banner, though I couldn't make the colors out due to my current state of vision.

"Ho there," barked one with a steely-eyed stare. "What is your business?"

I held my arm behind my head. "I was wondering if you'd seen a unicorn pass by here. You seem to be quite familiar with them?"

"Unicorn?" asked the other, looking to his partner. "I believe one passed by here not long ago, but he didn't pay us any mind. He just walked right past this outpost."

The first guard crouched down to get a better look of me. "Say, be you that starkers fellow who was with Lady Maria at the ball?"

I'll admit, the fact this place had a continuity to speak of was a rather odd surprise. Though to frank, I was more surprised that of all the people who I saw in my last big dream, it was these two that remembered my state of being.

Regardless, I simply nodded, failing miserably in looking unashamed as I felt a slight burning in my skin.

"Isn't really the type of weather for a skyclad vigil, lad." sighed the other, tipping his wide-brimmed hat. "But, nothin' for it, I suppose. Hold here a moment; I'm sure the lady will be glad to see you."

Celestia, sear me in your summer light now and be done with it.

Within a minute or so, the familiar silvery mane of Maria welcomed me again, whose freckles lit up at the sight of me.

"Lance!" she squeaked, lunging into a tender cuddle. "I didn't think I'd see you tonight, little jaybird. What brings you here?"

Maria's grip on me froze me where I stood for a scant few moments before my throat had any inclinations to speak.

"To be honest, I've not been feeling well," I said my voice low. "In light of recent discoveries, I fear for my well-being, and that of my friends. I've been made privvy to some rather grim prospects, and I'm not certain I'll be able to avoid them.

"Poor thing." Maria pursed her lips, letting go of my back as she took one of my hands. "Maybe I can help. I was actually wanting to show you someplace special, but you vanished before I had the chance."

Looking to the guards, they seemed indifferent to the both of us. Their eyes were focused ahead for danger, rather than at the sight of two younglings discussing mortal affairs. The storm kept going overhead, the rain falling heavier, the thunder growing louder, and the lightning getting brighter. It wasn't going to let up for at least a little while.

"Any old port in a storm, I suppose," I replied, shaking off some of the wetness. "I should really get something to cover up in, though; I don't want to catch cold."

Maria smiled, leading me along with a skip. "You don't have to worry; you're safe with me."

I wasn't certain if I could trust Maria, While she was perhaps the most outwardly friendly figure to be in any of my dreams, I wasn't certain of her motives. Iando wanted to tempt me, and Schrodinger wanted to educate me, but what were Maria's intentions? Was she real? Was she some figment my mind made up to give me some form of companion within my species? Was the castle itself some giant coping mechanism? Was it a happy place? I couldn't help but wander as she lead me down the hall. The visuals were nearly the same as our first encounter, just with far fewer crowds.

"So tell me, Lance, where are you from?" Maria asked as she slowed her pace. "It must be nice weather, given the way you dress. Or don't dress, I guess."

"As far as I know, I come from Equestria," I told her promptly. "I was raised in pony hooves in midwinter."

"Really?" gasped Maria. "Just ponies? What was that like?"

I lowered my head. "I wouldn't call it awful, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't without incident. Being the odd one out kind of lends itself to that."

Maria nodded. "I understand; I guess it's not easy growing up in a society that doesn't wear pants all that often."

I stopped dead in my tracks for a moment. A tickling feeling settled in my tummy, which I held with my free hand. I could feel my cheeks puff up and my lips curl into a grin. Then, almost immediately, I burst into laughter. It wasn't the first time I was made to laugh, but to have it come out from one like Maria just made it feel...stronger, in a way. I wasn't really sure why that was, but when Maria joined in, I felt the melancholy just trickled right out of me.

"So what about you?" I wondered aloud. "Where are you from?"

"Oh, just some vassal state in the woods," she replied. "It's a really tranquil place. Good place to connect with nature."

"And where are we headed, exactly?"

"It's a surprise!" she snickered. "Just keep moving."

We made our way down the hall, the drumming of the rain and the banging of thunder following us down from one end to the other. The strength of her pull could move boulders with how fast she moved us along. It wasn't even ten seconds before we reached the door, which she threatened to tear clean off the hinges with how snappily she yanked it open. Then she pulled me along with such force I was scared she'd tear my arm clean from its socket.

Out from the back of the castle was a shallow hill, along which a smooth dirt path was carved out. About halfway down stood a gazebo of astonishing keep for a wooden building. Even as the rain beat down upon it, it stood strong, the brightly-painted roof and slightly dimmer base as if it had only dried that day. A few yards from the foot of the hill was a set of bright, almost pearlescent square obelisks in the vague shape a horseshoe, etched with symbols too far away to read from afar.

Perhaps as a way of being merciful, Maria slowed down, taking the hill nice and slow. She skirted along, holding me close so I wouldn't trip. Not that it was a major risk with my bare feet, but I appreciated the care she took by this point. We tiptoed together like we did in the ballroom, eventually finding shelter from the rain as we sat down in the gazebo to catch our breath.

"I never took you for the type who could enjoy rain," I panted. "What did you want me to see?"

Much to my astonishment, I turned to see Maria working to remove her dress right at my feet. She didn't even flinch or shudder about it, either; it was just on one moment and off the next with nary a scruple about it. The face I made must have been the oddest thing, given how loudly she started laughing. The lack of shame or care as she rocked her head back was equal parts endearing and disturbing.

"And here I thought you didn't have a concept of shame," she chuckled. "You're perfectly fine with being skyclad, but the minute you see someone like me do it, you turn a cute shade of red."

"I seriously doubt that people like us are ones to drop their clothes at the drop of a hat," I reminded my female friend. "Especially not in this rain."

"It's okay, Lance," Maria said, putting her hand against mine. "It's a summer rain. No chance we'll catch a cold like this. We're just skyclad, is all."

Before I could ask her what that meant, she pulled me back to my feet and dragged me between the arch shaped pillars. Rain flicked off us both, and parts of us bounced and jiggled with each hurried step. By the time we were inside, it felt as though we'd stepped into a whole new territory. Though the storm poured outside, it seemed all but gone inside. Inside the pillars, I saw symbols too complex to be cutie marks, but not simple enough to be runes. A striped horseshoe with a horn and wings, a griffon's talon, a dragon's wings, and other such iconography surrounded us.

"What is this?" I wondered aloud. "What are we doing here?"

"This place is where the tribes would gather." Marina spun, her hair swirling around with her. "They had priests who petitioned the spirits for help and fortune.

"And what exactly does the nudity have to do with this?" I asked, looking in awe as the pillars glowed ever faintly. "Is that what those guards meant by 'skyclad'?"

Maria shook her head yes, wheeling around on her toes like a true ballerina. "It's exactly what it sounds like; we're wearing nothing but the air around us. Nothing's standing between us and the universe."

"But what's the function of it all?" I asked, shaking off the rain. "Surely whatever gods and spirits are watching above aren't particular with what their subjects are wearing."

"It's not just for the gods." Like an eagle, Maria swooped in and snatched me in her arms, putting our chests as close as she could bring them. "When the clerics would convene here, they leave behind any signs of status, wealth, and material connection. In exposing their bodies, they also opened their minds and hearts."

Maria's hazel eyes snaked deep inside me. Her grip tightened like an anaconda, and soon our lips were but nanometers apart.

"The same can be said of this dream," she whispered, suckling on my lip. "Only when you open yourself--all of yourself--to the infinite expanses of your subconscious, you can be prepared for all that the waking world has in store for you."

The strange awareness that Maria had in this situation gave me great pause. "How do you know this is a dream?"

Maria gave me a teeny peck on the lips before pulling my ear close. "Do you really think everyone dreams alone?"

My eyes shot wide as silver bits. "Does that mean you're real?"

My female friend let go then, raising her arm out by her side. A piercing cry not unlike that of the red hawk split the air, and in a glorious flash of lightning, the thunderbird that captivated my waking life swooped down onto her arm as though it were a trained falcon. The lids of her eyes dropped to a come-hither stare, and she held me by the chin.

"Why don't you come awake and find out?"

The bird screeched square in my face, its cries inviting the bang of thunder and the flash of lighting. Electrical snakes shot down from the pillars, coiling around us into a predatorial embrace. I heard the voice of the storms in this dream, and it was a language much softer-spoken and poetic than its violent origins implied. Before I knew it, I was being taken into the belly of the beasts, being torn into bits and giblets for their delectation before my ephemeral form faded away into nothing.

And yet, even as I looked upon myself slowly dying, I felt neither fear or loathing. Instead, I understood life and its beauty much more acutely. I felt hope, and nothing that I knew could keep me from it now. I felt might the likes of which was once lost to me.

When I saw again, I was again in a void. Armed with my new vision, I could see a crowd of pony folk racing towards me like a wave, a rainbow of unity and solidarity that could not be split, even by my hand. As it neared me, the distinct roar of the ocean came upon me like the breath of a dragon. It was a force so great and powerful that I could do little but brace myself against its might, shielding myself with my arms as the wave threatened to knock me off my feet. The weight of hundreds of pony hooves trampling me appeared inevitable, only for the crowd to make an eerily even fork all around me, standing on their hind legs as they did so and becoming beings of my shape by the time they were clear of me.

Yet one pony hadn't followed the crowd. A single shining stallion stood silent in the distance, and even from so far away, his piercing gaze struck a familiar chord with me.

"So you finally have eyes which see in the yawning maw the dark," Schrodinger noted with a nod. "Perhaps there may yet be hope for you."

"I'm glad I had a vote of confidence," I grumbled, crossing my arms. "But what'll become of you when all of this is over?"

Schrodinger lowered his head. "I don't know. Though I've been a part of you for a considerable stretch of time, I am not certain as to where I come from or where I will go."

He clopped his hoof against the ground twice, though why he did so was beyond me. "All I can do with certainty is do my best to guide you. Considering your progress, I have hope in our continued cooperation."

I couldn't help but smile a tad at the way Schrodinger was regarding me. He sounded like one of those teachers who really disliked you in grade school and just recently saw you ace one of their most recent tests.

"I wish you good luck in the land of the minotaur, friend." Schrodinger waved high and wide. "My strength is with you."

Then, as many medically-induced dreams tend to do, it cut to nothing.


***


Eyes. Eyes about five-pair all stared down upon me like medical microscopes, lights of hope shining like tiny stars deep in pupils. Five warm breaths and a machine mare's exhaust beat down on me like a midsummer heat. My body was cripplingly sore, my own eyes feeling like they'd been sealed by cement and I groaned trying to pry them fully open. I felt a distinct dissonance between what I wanted my body to do and what it was actually doing. Where I wanted to raise my leg, I could only twitch my toe. Where I wanted to wave my hand, I could only spread and contract my fingers. My skin felt like it was the only thing actively moving, even though I never intended it to.

Then there was the splitting pain in my head.

"I feel like I've been dragged behind a wagon for hours," I groaned, my throat especially hoarse. "What happened?"

"Very nearly died, that's what," Roughshod whickered back. "Not but maybe a half-hour since you lot went below deck, I heard you screaming bloody murder. Frankly, I think it's a miracle you're still talking."

"Well, that would explain why most of you are here," I said, straining to lift an arm. "But why can't I move?"

"Your body was outputting an especially powerful electric current," Juno replied with an odd smile. "By my analysis, your body had a potential energy of about six hundred-thousand millivolts?"

Napalm rose an eyebrow. "Translation?"

"That's about the same voltage as an electric eel," Kenta explained. "With that kind of juice, I'm actually surprised he's alive. Then again, I've taken bolts from a Lagiacrus with more voltage than that."

Nia carefully rubbed her hooves against my body. "I'm afraid that such sustained magical use has caused your muscles significant strain," she said as she invited some of the others to help me up. "As such, you'll have to stay in bed. You don't have to sleep, but your muscles need time to rest and compensate."

I bit my lip. "Is this permanent?"

Nia waved her hooves nervously. "Not at all. You just need time for your nervous system to heal. That aside, are you feeling any improved?"

As I made an attempt to lift myself, I frowned. “I can’t be certain if the treatment worked. I still saw Iando, and he taunted me for my findings. I had a vision of Maria again, too. But, on the bright side, I can see in the dark now.”

Juno was especially keen on helping me to bed, even going so far as to tuck me in and pull my arms over the covers.

"I will maintain surveillance," she swore with a smile. "You are safe now."

"That's sweet of you, Juno," I said, staring up at the ceiling. Then a thought crossed my head. "Did I happen to say anything while I was out of it?"

Juno shook her head. "Nothing but high-decibel screaming and incredibly verbose epithets demanding the mercy of death at the hooves of the royal pony sisters."

It took a large amount of force to push down the cork-like lump in my throat. "Well, good to know that none of you took me up on the offer."

"With the way you were sparking?" Napalm asked incredulously. "I wouldn't go near you with a rubber suit!"

"Very funny," I groused. "Any idea on when we'll make landfall?"

"Spike said about four to eight hours, boss," woofed Kenta. "Want me to take over for 'im? I've got some shipmaster's experience, and I bet he'd love to see that you're okay."

"I'd like that, Kenta," I sighed as Juno put another pillow beneath my head. "He must be worried to death."

Kenta gave a quick salute and a doofy grin. "Aye aye."

The hunting hound hurried to the helm, and after a few minutes of muffled negotiations, Spike speedily stamped his way down into the quarters.

"You know, when I heard all that screaming, I thought someone hooked you up to a torture machine," Spike gasped, stretching out. "If I knew somepony else could pilot this ship, I'd have come running in a heartbeat."

I turned my head over to Spike. "Well, I'm glad you're here now." I tried to bring my arms up, but a sharp sting kept me from doing anymore than a twitch. "I'd hug you, but I'm paralyzed from the neck down right now."

"Oh." Spike slunk a tad. "Well, can I get you anything?"

"Got any comics?"

"Do I!" Spike replied cheerily. "Hang on, I'll get my trade paperbacks of Power Ponies! You'll love it, I promise."

Spike raced off to his room, and quick as a flash, he returned with at least two shelves' worth of technicolor periodicals.

"Which do you wanna read? Crisis on Infinite Equestrias? Secret Mares? Contest of Equestrians?"

"Whichever you want, Spike. Just put some coffee on."

Spike was absolutely beaming at the invitation. Before I knew it, I had the warm aroma of sweet mocha wafting in my nose, and I had two assistants collaborating for an impromptu reading session. I wondered to myself if this is where Twilight gained such a love of books. While I was fond of reading, I admit that all this globe-trotting left me with little time for it. Now that I had precious little else, the simple joy of a glossy, four-color trade paperback felt like the most exhilarating entertainment in the world. Spike would stop from time to time if he needed to explain something to me, and I hung onto his every word while Juno projected the images onto a nearby wall. It was almost like being in a cinema, in a way. For just a short while, I was able to to just relax and enjoy myself.

Really, if there was a worry I had, it was that I'd have to ruin my body a second time, and given where I was going, I thought it wise not to dwell on it.


***


"Alright, up we go, boss. We gotta disembark."

Kenta, proving especially capable for his stature, took the task of helping me off the ship. While I was back in standing form once again, I was in little condition to take anything strenuous. Clutched tightly to Kenta, we stepped off the boarding ramp and had a good look at the land. The cobbled roads, a veritable bounty of docks, and that unmistakably crisp saltiness in the air told me this was most definitely a port town, and a major one at that. Burly men with hooved legs, tapered horns, and broad shoulders stood shoulder-to-shoulder with leaner-looking wives with arms that could break watermelons. Some of them were missing legs, others having hooks for hands, and a number of them were wearing patches across their eyes. If there was one thing that they all shared in spades, it was an air of pride. When all eyes turned to the port and saw me hobbling along, they gave glares that pinned me at the feet.

"Look what we got here, boys!" yelled one. "A drunken sailor, maybe?"

"He doesn't have the swagger to be one," scoffed another. "By the looks of it, poor lad can't even walk on his own."

Roughshod stamped his way in front of me, cane at the ready.

"If you have any sense in you, you'll leave 'im be!"

One of the larger ones strode up to him. Compared to Roughshod, he was a towering behemoth. Between his nostrils was a ring of cast-iron, and strapped across his back was an axe that made Napalm's look puny. It was notched intentionally, perhaps during forging. If he swung that over his head, he could've easily broken Roughshod clean in half.

"And what'll you do if I don't, little ass?" grunted the minotaur, cracking his knuckles. "Shout me down?"

"I wouldn't jest, if I were you," I warned the minotaur. "His words are backed with a power far beyond our understanding."

The warrior and the priest both looked upon each other. A fire burned in their stares, their chests puffing up like hot-air balloons as they grit their teeth and scraped the ground. An audible growl grew between the two of them, and  the crowd looked on with folded arms and curious eyes.

Then the Minotaur rocked his head back and let out a roaring laugh.

"You've got some balls, old man!" he said, polishing his bicep. "Who's your limpin' friend?"

"An envoy from Equestria," I called out. "I'm Lance, and I'm here to see your leader for an invitation to Princess Celestia's grand summit."

A squall of snickers stole the wind from my sails. Even the slimmest of steers couldn't resist openly lambasting me, cupping their hands over their faces to try and keep from a catastrophic cackling fit.

"And just what's so funny?" Spike snarled.

"Oh, it's nothing," one of the cows chuckled. "It's just that in Rinth, our politicians have to fight it in the arena."

Spike lowered his guard. "That doesn't sound too bad."

"You'd think that, brother," snorted a deep, booming voice, "But once you see who you're squaring with, you're gonna wish you hopped back on that boat so you didn't have to take the pain train!"

The look on Spike's face told me he knew well enough how this particular steer was. He was a powder-blue fellow with a swagger of confidence in his step and a tacky azure tie round his neck. He also so brazenly wore his heart on his sleeve that I swear you could see a telltale swelling in his bicep. Staring into his eyes, I saw a shine of confidence the likes of which I knew in far few folk. The way he glanced down at me was a cocktail of pity, pride, and empathy.

"I feel sorry you gotta get thrown to the wolves, kid," he said, never once lowering his tone. "But down here, we don't live by strength of voice alone. For your sake, I hope you've got a good therapist."

"Now just hold on a minute," Spike spat. "You mean he's gonna have to fight just to get an invite across? That can't be fair!"

"Well, sorry to say, but this is just how we do things," replied the minotaur, leaning down. "You can make an appeal with the master of ceremonies, but one of you's gotta fight if you expect to have any weight around here."

Spike and the others drew their eyes to me, Juno looking especially concerned as she stepped in front of me. And yet, with what little strength I had, I strode forward.

"If that is the way I must earn the right to counsel," I reasoned, hissing as my every step stung with a needling pain, "Then I shall see fit to provide you a champion worthy of your time."

"Master, you should reconsider," Juno gasped. "You are barely able to stand. You should not be engaging in combat!"

I turned to Juno, a cringing smile on my face.

"Who said I'd be the one fighting them?"

The minotaur gave a toothy grin, putting an arm around me. "That's the spirit, kid! C'mon. Allow Iron Will to escort you to the Arena."

The name the minotaur had rang somewhat familiar, though I couldn't place where or how. There was just a familiar aura about this steer that just itched my brain something awful. Chalk it up to deja vu, I suppose. With his help, we did at least find our way to a building that on first examination looked like a  forum, requisite marble etched columns included. Here, steers, calves, and cows alike gathered in chatter, coins clattering as they changed hands.

"Welcome to the arena, boys and girls,' roared Iron Will, his every muscle pulsing as he spoke. "Or as I like to call it, the proving grounds. If there's one thing that we like more than mazes and ships, it's a good old-fashioned slobberknocker. You'd best be ready to get pushed to the limit, because we don't listen to anypony who's got even an ounce of quit in 'em."

"While I appreciate the spectacle," I grumbled. "I would like to have words with the master of ceremonies before my muscular system fails me a second time."

"Oh, right." Iron Will scratched his head. "Give me a minute to get you set up."

With that, the bull made a mad charge inside, leaving us to wonder just what to expect from our visit.

"You know, I've been with you for some crazy things, Lance," Napalm noted, "but this here? This is pretty nuts."

"Don't worry, I think I have a plan to deal with this," I assured my pyromantic partner. "I may not be able to fight, but I have the perfect replacement."

"But who could stand a chance against one of those big dudes?" Spike wondered. "I mean, between the seven of us, only two of us are anywhere near the same body type as them; you and--"

As if an anvil had just fallen on his head, Spike came to realize just what was in store for him.

"Sometimes I hate being the number-one assistant," he grumbled.

"That, my friend, is precisely the reason I've picked you," I told the dragon, propping myself against his shoulder. "See, for a while now, you've merely been the assistant, the number-two. You've carried us far, and with little complaint. But I know you; you want to be the hero. You want the chance to prove your mettle and lead the charge. You've supported us for this long, and now I'm giving you the chance you've always wanted to shine."

Spike gave me a half-lidded stare. "You just want me to go so you don't have to be the one who has all his bones broken."

I gave Spike a so-so sign. "A little. Plus you're just the right weight class for this kind of thing."

Spike leered at me for at least thirty seconds before proceeding to tip his arms back and forth as he weighed his options. All the while, he kept humming along to a tune I wasn't quite familiar with. Then, with an enthused grunt, he smacked his fist into his hand.

"Alright, I'm in," he roared proudly. "Where do I sign?"

"Right here!" bellowed Iron Will, waving a clipboard as he sprinted back to us. "Just put your name right there, and we'll head in and set up."

"Sweet!" Spike squealed as he scribbled down on the sheet. "I hope it's like how they do it in the movies!"

Iron Will guffawed giddily. "Kid, you don't know the half of it! C'mon, let's get inside."

Thus, at his behest, the lot of us filed into the facility, a maze-like complex with hallways it seemed only our guide knew the right way through. Not once did his proud stride let up as he marched us down, onlookers curious at their new company. At this point, stares of confusion and curiosity were common to me, but I believe Spike was feeling some pressure from having so many strangers giving him such odd stares.

"Seein' as you're from outta town, we gotta play up your image," the minotaur mused. "You know, really market yourself to the masses and give the crowd someone they can remember."

"I know plenty about making an entrance," I offered. "Kenta and Napalm are good with explosives, and the ass is good at speeches."

Roughshod groused. "I know the term "ass" can refer to my kin, but it's very hard to tell if you're using the term with sincerity."

"Got anything in mind?"

I gave a bold grin. "And how."

The grin on Iron Will's face was a welcome sight as we filed into a green room, heads abuzz with ideas.


***


In the tradition of repeating trends, I was yet again behind an entrance in anticipation for another public performance. Unlike last time, I had only Spike and Iron Will with me.

"And you're sure we'll be able to see the others?" I asked, taking a peek behind the curtain.

"Don't sweat it," the minotaur made sure. "I got your buddies the best seats I could find. You'll be able to see 'em, no problem."

"Can we go over the script one last time?" Spike twiddled his thumbs. "I'm not sure if I've got it down."

"No time for that, little buddy," Interrupted the minotaur. "They're about to call us."

"Today, we've got a very special match for you, folks," called a hearty voice over a booming loudspeaker. "They've just flown in all the way from Equestria, and they look ready to lock horns in a diplomatic duel of destiny! For today's brawl, please give a warm welcome to Spike the Dragon and his partner, Lance!"

With a swift slap on the back, Iron Will ushered us out, Spike hauling me up onto his shoulders. a swell of screeching guitars, booming drums, and scorching pyrotechnics filled the runway as the two of us barreled down. A wave of cheering masses greeted us with gusto as we neared a decently large square ring.  While Spike vaulted over the ropes, I took the nearby stairs and tried my best to climb the nearby turnbuckle.

By the time I caught eye of our challenge, I was suddenly a lot less confident of my champion's chances.

You know the phrase "Mess with the bull and get the horns?" This man was that bull, and his horns were something I'd be wise to stay far, far away from. This was not the type of man you'd find hiding in an alleyway, but rather the type that would be standing outside it, blocking the way. His horns were long enough to be weapons all on their own, and polished to an ivory sheen. His hide was shiny and golden, like a living statue. If you'll forgive the morbid imagery, I imagined his arms were large enough to give a pack of wolves dinner for at least a school week. The upper half of his body was a delicately-carved mountain, a wall of swollen fresh and iron bone that could likely flatten me if he ended up falling atop me. Even his legs, tiny as they were by comparison, were throbbing with power.

"I sure hope you have a plan of attack," Spike simpered through his teeth as he leaned into me. "I'm really not liking my odds here!"

"Don't let the referee hear that," I whispered back, nudging him in the arm. "He's coming right for us."

"So!" called a winsome calf in a monochrome-striped shirt. "Any words from our lovely contestants before we begin in earnest?"

Without a second thought, I snatched the microphone from his hand.

"To say I did not expect this would be a legendary understatement," I said, slinging myself onto the ropes for support. "I am typically a diplomat first and foremost, though the ways of combat are not foreign to me. While I would typically be the man in the arena, I am unfortunately still recuperating from from some rather intensive medical treatments. However, should the champion I've given you fall to that of your own and I should happen to regain my strength, I will happily take his place and give you the show you came here to see."

A wave of applause washed over the room as I made my way around the turnbuckle, waving to the crowd with a smile. The referee happily took the microphone back and spent the next few moments whipping the crowd into a fervor, practically soaking in the hype. Then, with a raise of his hand, he brought them all back to silence.

"Well, it's good to know the challenger's tough enough to stay at ringside," called the referee, sprinkling so much ham and cheese into his delivery that my heart very nearly seized up then and there, "but will his champion be able to survive hell in a cell against our five-time heavyweight champion?! Cows and gentlebulls, give it up for Oro!"

Oro flexed his muscles with such vigor that his veins were ready to tear off his muscles like licorice.  As the crowd showered him with praise, he spun around like it was fresh summer rain. He revelled in the attention as a giant cage closed us in and flames like dragon's breath spewed from the turnbuckles. I was lucky that I didn't ruin my body any further trying to duck away from the flames, but the cage that surrounded us bore an ill omen. Then, a loud bell rang out, and the crowd fell into an excited murmur. I clambered back up to the top rope, giving Spike a thumbs-up as he approached Oro. The two of them circled the ring in a manner most gladiatorial, huge spotlights shining over them as they sized each other up.

Then, like two charging bison, the two charged at one another, locking together and pushing each other in a clash of forces. As much as Spike had an impressive start, the strength of his opponent was too great for him. In trying to duck between Oro's legs, he left himself open to being lifted off the mat and dropped on his back with enough force to cause a thunderous sound and an impressive ripple. I cringed as he bounced, but I was more happy that his spines didn't bust a hole in the mat. Thankfully, Spike was a tough nut to crack, and he shakily returned to his feet, letting out a growl of excitement as he charged the bull again, grabbing him by the horns. He dug his feet as deep into the mat as he could, creating ripples in the mat as he bore down, holding the line as best he could.

As I watched them go at it, I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander in search of my friends, who were getting just as hyped up as the rest of the crowd. Napalm was hollering with popcorn kernels stuck in her teeth, Nia and Juno were watching the match with a close eye, Roughshod seemed to be desperately wanting the place to be quieter, and Kenta just sat there, panting wildly. Good of them to enjoy the culture, I supposed.

Oro maintained a terrifying physical advantage, pushing Spike into the ropes, threatening to topple him clear over the topmost one if he could. But where Oro was a large, stern presence, Spike’s smaller stature and sleeker figure allowed him a chance to squeeze out of danger, catching the steer flat-hoofed as he stumbled into a turnbuckle. Spike didn’t have long to center himself as Oro charged full-tilt for him. Spike only barely managed to dive out of the way, ankle and fetlock grazing as they crossed one another. While Oro rebounded off of the rubbery ropes, Spike caught hold of the turnbuckle, snapping around to catch the minotaur as he slingshot his way into him. The two kissed the mat again, locking themselves at the legs in a terrifying tangle. Spike strained his calves considerably, hoping that Oro’s more svelte extremities would give out before his own.

To his dismay, Oro’s lower body proved far more formidable than he’d foreseen, his upper body undoing the knee knot before mounting atop Spike and wrapping his arm around the dragon’s neck. While admittedly a fair strategy, Oro had forgotten perhaps the most fundamental rules of fighting a dragon:

Never, under any circumstances, leave the mouth unrestrained.

A puff of emerald flame wooshed across the bull’s face, filling it with ash and forcing him to recoil, releasing Spike with a hiss as his hands flew to his flustered face. Seeing an opportunity too good to waste, Spike sprang for the ropes, throwing as much of his weight onto them. The ropes creaked with the stretching rubber, forming a noteable arch that captivated the gasping audience. Like a slingshot, the bend grew larger and larger.

Then, with a loud, thunderous twang, Spike shot out towards the minotaur, legs out like a spear in a mighty dropkick that landed true on the bull’s chest with a thunderous thud. The force of the impact was enough to make the bull stagger, if only for a few feet. The crowd showered the dragon in praise, whooping up a frenzy as he hit the mat with a bounce. While he wasn’t actively playing up his actions, he certainly knew what hyped the crowd up.

Shame that he didn’t take time to condition himself beforehand, else that might not have taken so much out of him. Oh, he was able to get back to his feet, but not without a half dozen shakes and more puffing than a bakery’s smokestack. Oro dusted himself off, practically unfazed by Spike’s kick. He even cracked a smile as he patted his chest. 

“Nice try,” he grunted, ducking down. “Now let me show you how a man uses the ropes.”

The steer wheeled around on his heel, rushing full-tilt in the ropes and bouncing into them with one mighty leap. Then, like a bullet from a sling, he surged forth. As he flew, he brought an arm out, catching the flat-footed dragon in his bicep and bringing his face into the turnbuckle with a hard smack. I and at least one other patron recoiled as we saw a red spatter stain the mat. Spike only barely stayed up, his forehead bruised and bloodied as he hung himself up on the ropes. I could tell from the look in his eyes and the thickness of his breath that he’d need some help getting the wind back in his sails.

“Keep it together, Spike!” I shook the ropes with the enthusiasm of a chipper chimpanzee. “You’re not gonna let this goliath walk all over you, are you? I know you’re tougher than this!”

As Spike pushed himself back onto his feet, the scales on the sides of his head twitched. For a few precious seconds, he stood there, taking in the din of the crowd and searching for his center. He barely moved at all, and when he did, his motions lacked any kind of rhythm or reason. It was as though the head trauma made him forget where he was, like he needed a moment to remember what he was doing.

Thankfully, the telltale clang of a ringside bell helped to return him to his senses, despite what little seemed to remain. He dragged himself back to our corner, where he cringed trying to recline against the turnbuckle. He let out a hiss as I wiped the blood off his face with a cloth from my pocket.

“Okay, big guy, that round could have ended better,” I sighed, dabbing the blood off as best I could, “but what’s important is, you’re not down yet.”

“But how am I supposed to take someone like him down?” Spike whimpered, motioning to the minotaur. “He’s massive!”

I spun Spike around swiftly and looked into him with a steely eye. “Compared to what you and I have seen before, this guy’s nothing.”

Spike stared into me for a moment before nodding knowingly. “What’s the plan?”

“Simple,” I replied, pointing to Oro’s legs. “Minotaurs, much like bulls, rely heavily on their ability to maintain momentum. The legs, therefore, are both its greatest asset and its worst hinderance. What I want you to do is use his momentum against him and tap into that draconic power inside you.”

“But how do I do that?” Spike puffed, looking to his claws. “I can’t just wish to get stronger, just like that!”

“Yes you can!” I shouted, squeezing his shoulders. “You just have to want to. All you have to do is channel that will inside you to succeed, that desire to be the hero, and that determination to see it through to the end.”

I pulled him close to me, close enough to see the white in his eyes. “Now, do you want to win?”

“I want to win,” Spike replied flatly.

“Louder!” I demanded, shaking him by his collarbone. “Do. You Want. To Win?”

“I want to win!” he shouted back.

“Put your heart into it!” I roared. “Are you going to win?”

“I’m gonna win!” Spike roared back.

“Then get out there,” I cheered, pushing him back onto his feet. “Get out there and show this crowd what kind of fire burns in that heart of yours!”

With a proud growl, Spike reared his head back, and mustering all his power, let slip a glorious green cloud of fearsome fire. The crowd’s newly-rejuvenated hype cut the air like a bombshell, forcing me to shield my face from its sheer intensity. When I lowered my arm, I felt a noticeable change in the air. An invisible fog weighed around the arena, and there was a certain pressure radiating off the recuperated drake. It was a warmness that seemed to emanate from his muscles as he steeled himself.

“Alright, big guy,” Spike growled, wiping himself off with a returned smirk. “What do you say we turn up the heat?”

As he lifted himself up, Oro let out an incredulous snort. “You’ve got a big mouth, for someone who got his head bashed in,” he chortled, cracking his joints. “Let’s see if you can handle a second round.”

With that, the ringside bell clanged to life briefly once more, and the two closed in on each other again. Spike’s steps made the mat sink markedly deeper than before, thudding along with voracious vim and vigor as the two met chest-to-chest. A certain, unseeable power flowed around the ring. It was an aura of strength that seemed to radiate from their bodies like the mist from their sweat. Their infectious bravado filled me with a peculiar strength and vitality that helped keep me on my toes.

Then, that mass of testosterone and bravado detonated with the violent clash of the two toned titans’ fists. Spike kept hopping on the mat, his feet shuffling in a dizzying tango as he buffeted the bull with a barrage of blows to the abdomen. Oro answered his attack by tensing his muscles, turning his abs into a steel curtain as he wrapped his arms around the dragon. Spike reciprocated the embrace, wrapping around Oro’s waist and using his head as a wedge to force him into the corner. Then, with the grace of a stag beetle, he wrapped his foe in his arms and reared back, chucking him with a terrifyingly fierce suplex. While he wasn’t thrown significantly far, the shift in momentum was enough to give the bull pause. Before he even had the chance to get his bearings, Spike lunged at him, bashing his forearm across his forehead. 

The crowd gasped, this sudden turn causing them to grow quieter in anticipation. 

It was then that Spike decided to do something reckless. Something incredibly reckless, at that. Something so reckless it looped in on itself and became brilliant.

He started climbing the cage.

Forcefully, he clambered his way up, trying his best not to bend the bars. Each rung he climbed was greeted with the whine of straining metal and creaking turnbuckles. The cage shuddered violently the further up he reached, a nagging worry for his safety and mine growing ever louder in turn. Even if I’d wanted to flee for my own safety, I was just as trapped inside as he was. I could only pray that the cage fell away from me in the event of its forthcoming structural failure.

As he reached the apex, at least ten times his body length, Spike freed one of his arms to dangle like a big, scaly gorilla. A symphony of shrill cheers shrouded the the arena as he cupped a hand around his ear, taking in the thrill of the moment. He took a deep breath, his pectoral muscles tensing as he jutted his elbow out, bracing his arm against his head and peering down at the long drop he was about to make.

Finally, after licking the sweat from his lips and whispering an inaudible prayer to a higher power, he leapt from the wall and allowed gravity to take the reins.

Bang. A deep, thunderous boom of distorted tarpaulin rattled the arena, causing both rope and cage to shudder furiously. Fearing the inevitable, I dropped off the edge, holding my arms over my head at the guttural groan of structural destruction. My knees creaked and crackled as I struggled to kneel down, the adrenaline high only barely keeping me from giving way. I shut my eyes as tight as I could and held my breath.

Of course, had I not been so caught up in the mania of self-preservation, I would’ve remembered that cages don’t typically collapse inward. I suppose mistakes like that happen when you’re in a panic for your own safety and the vast majority of your body’s still effectively numb and vulnerable.

The great cacophony of crashing metal swarmed around me, making a noise so loud that the ringing threw me off-balance and forced me to the ground. For a brief instant, I was engulfed in total bedlam, everything around me slowed to a slither as my brain tried desperately tried to make sense of the mayhem. Amidst the chaos, I could only pray that whoever helmed the machinations of my fate was feeling particularly kind or merciful.

Then at last, after what felt like an hour, the storm of steel and debris ceased. At my heels were the tarp that hung around the arena, at my back its ropes, and in my ears the empathic roar of the crowd managed to cut through the wall of noise to shower the room with praise. I craned my head around as best I could, wincing as still-healing nerves jolted in protest, and saw my friends hopping out of their seats in a wild hype over what had transpired.

Meanwhile, Spike groaned back to his feet again as he dusted himself off. Though it took him a moment to understand what all he’d just done, once he was cognizant of his conquest, he was cheering just as loudly and proudly as the rest. After a few beats, the dragon’s priorities swiftly shifted back to me, rushing to my side in a frenzied sprint.

“Oh geez, are you okay?” He wheezed, his overexertion starting to catch up with him. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Well, besides all of my nerves screaming internally, I’m perfectly fine.” I replied hoarsely. “You may want to make sure the man you just speared with your elbow from a four-meter drop is fine, though.”

Spike’s eyes nearly popped right out of his head as he hooked his arm around my waist and slung me over his shoulder. “Shoot, you’re right. Just stay on while we check.” 

“Not like I have much choice,” I mumbled back.

Spike hurdled over the rubble like a mighty gazelle and quickly put his head to Oro’s chest, hoping he hadn’t seriously hurt him. As I hung limply from his shoulder, I kept a keen eye on that chest, looking for any signs of breath. His stomach was still rising and descending—however shallow it appeared—so he must not have been mortally wounded. At the very least, we were keeping him company while we waited for professionals to arrive.

And arrive they did, the wail of a powered guitar screaming around the arena as geysers of flame and sparks shot up from the runway. At the summit appeared a minotaur whose size was yet larger than Oro, his bronzed abs statuesque and his gold-tipped horns keen enough to punch through a tree with impunity. Accompanied by two buxom attendants, he strode down, a long violet cape draped across his shoulders as he welcomed the adoring cheers of the public. Across his face streaked the sweat of a man who would never allow himself to buckle beneath the burden placed on his shoulders.

As I stared weakly into this bull’s eyes, I was left with no doubt that this was a bull who commanded great respect.

“Young man, I am impressed!” the steer snorted. “It’s not everyday I see a cage match end that intensely.”

Spike rubbed the spines on his head with a nervous sweat. “Y-yeah. Sorry about that.”

The bull guffawed, rearing his head back for a guttural laugh that sent ripples all across the arena that the audience rebounded in waves.

“Kid, you’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about!” he declared proudly. “You managed to best the people’s champion with all that the Powers gave you, and you looked damned good doing it.”

The crowd affirmed the king’s praises, trickling down a wave of whistling and whooping. I was certain Spike would be cringing, but I suppose having to carry someone on your shoulders might require one to accept flattery just a touch more willingly. Then again, Spike had probably been in this scenario just a tad bit more than I had, so what did I know? He had his moment in the spotlight for a change and I was happy.

“Ah, but where are my manners?” The king asked with a blindingly radiant smile. “I am Vince McBullion, master of ceremonies and lord of this fine realm.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” I groaned, craning my head up. “I’d shake your hand, but I think most of the adrenaline that was keeping me up is gone now.”

“That’s nothing to worry about,” Vince replied with a rumbly chuckle. “What’s important is the matter at hand. Your champion has bested mine fairly in this hallowed ring. As is our tradition, his entitles you to my personal attention. Name anything you’d like, and I’ll see to it that it is fulfilled.”

Spike smirked cheekily. “You might want to get a quill.”