//------------------------------// // 2 - How to Survive a School Trip (And Discover New Old Magic) // Story: Arcane Realms // by Prane //------------------------------// Museums sucked. Yet they were still, for some reason, the second most popular destination for a school trip, right behind nature centers but ahead of historic sites with monuments erected in memory thereof. To experience the more hands-on learning and break their everyday routines, students and teachers alike would visit those places in hope of gaining new insight, but sometimes even the most interesting ones—like the famous Castle of the Two Sisters in the now tamed section of the Everfree Forest—weren’t enough to keep the youth occupied with the past. Especially when the strange, four-wheeled machined parked outside presented them with a much more exciting glimpse of the future. “Psst! Guys!” Razzle beckoned to her friends. “Check this out!” Mindful of where their teachers were standing and in what directions they were looking, the trio broke away from the group one by one. “We’re supposed to stay with the rest,” Glavia whispered, but quickly joined the filly by the window. “Oh. What are we looking at?” “It’s called a car.” “It doesn’t look like a cart to me,” Spike said. “Car, not cart. C-A-R. It stands for a Crysteam Automated… uhm, Crysteam, Automated…” “Roadster,” Merrot added. “It’s a crystal-and-steam-powered vehicle that doesn’t require carthorses to move. See that big box up front? That’s the crysteam engine. It consists of a water tank, pipes, four pistons and a special crystal circuit which keeps the magical energy flowing around the engine. The byproduct of this flow is heat that boils the water and transforms it into steam which makes the pistons—and, in consequence, the front wheels—move.” The others watched him in awe. “Did I say something inappropriate?” “I honestly wouldn’t know,” Glavia replied, her stare stuck between the usual lost and straight confused. “I-I apologize if that’s the case, and if it’s about the condenser I was just—” “You’re such a nerd, Merrot,” Razzle quietly chuckled. “Long story short, guys: cars are awesome. The bad news is that you need a unicorn at the steering rod.” The changeling shook his head. “That’s only partially accurate. You need any magic user to periodically recharge the circuit and handle any unexpected shifts in the arcane field while driving, but it doesn’t have to be a unicorn, specifically. But yes, the inventors were unicorns, so they probably designed it to serve their own needs and to fit their capabilities. In fact, I read that they made their first car from a juicer on wheels.” Spike felt like having a mug of cider. A keg, rather. A mug wouldn’t sate him as he usually couldn’t resist the sweet taste of the Apple Family’s finest drink for long. His thoughts went back to the twin salespony brothers—once, they tried to take over the livelihood of his friends, the other time they came up with a supposed miraculous tonic for all ailments, but now they had apparently become legit businessponies. Good for them. The ponykind was exceptionally short-lived, but they had a natural drive to make the most of their lives, to give at least some meaning to their existence, and the likes of Flim and Flam desperately needed to make up for their questionable past. It could have been worse. They could have deforested the land, scorched the sky, and started selling synthetic sunlight for two bits a bottle. Glavia cooed in appreciation. “Mhm. So it’s a machine powered by nature.” “Yeah, well, and magic,” Razzle added. “Magic is a part of nature,” Glavia replied, eliciting a thoughtful frown from the filly. She then squinted outside where an elegant stallion opened the car’s door for his companion. “Merrot? I was just wondering. How do you know so much about it?” “My Queen asked the exchangelings to keep our eyes open for any and all opportunities to help the Hive, so I’ve tasked myself with learning about the latest Equestrian inventions, especially those involving magic.” He stepped away from the window. “Cars are a miss, though. There’s little smooth enough surfaces underground for them to work, and it’s not like we’d start building roads, either. We can all fly, and instead of using wagons for transportation we just call nearby changelings for help. We could be done with our work before a car even starts.” “Talk about efficiency,” Spike murmured. “How about we talk about paying attention?” asked a pleasant, yet heavily accented voice from behind. It belonged to Miss Vesper Bell, their thestral arts teacher who like them was participating in a SGI school trip for the first time. She was one of the two members of the staff who had neither the qualifications nor the toughness of character to refer to herself as a Professor. That lack of guts could have been her downfall, as she was—in Spike’s opinion—too soft on her students. She was a young idealist who still believed she could befriend them without imposing authority and demanding due obedience, but that wasn’t what was keeping her afloat. Though she remained oblivious to the fact, Miss Vesper Bell’s exotic looks advanced her to the rank of a favorite teacher among half the boys in their class. The other half were obviously liars. As for the girls, Spike could speak only for Glavia and Razzle—the former liked her because she liked the subject because she excelled at it, and the latter loved that Silk Stocking was terrible at it. “Well?” Miss Vesper Bell looked upon the three she could level with her stare. “The tour is not over yet. Please come, you can learn a lot of interesting things! And remember, there will be a quiz later on!” Spike cracked a smile and chose to reward the mare. At least she was trying to act tough. For a pony. “Of course, Miss Bell. We’re sorry,” he said. “Razzle, c’mon.” “But there’s a real car outside!” the filly moaned and stuck her muzzle to the window. The elegant stallion pulled something near the steering rod and popped open the flap covering the engine. As he walked back to it, his horn shined with saffron light. “Miss Lulamoon…” “Just a moment!” “I’ll get her,” Spike offered and unceremoniously picked the filly up. “Hey—whoa! No! No, no!” She reached out towards the window, but the window was getting away. She crossed her forelegs and threw her captor a grumpy stare. “Traitor. That was a one if a lifetime opportunity.” “It really wasn’t. All you have to do is take a stroll through Canterlot to have two or three more.” He put her down just before they joined the others. “Besides, you promised not to whine, and I said I’d show you the thing. That was the deal. Honor it.” Not only was curiosity great at reducing the feline population, but it was perfect for shutting adventurous fillies up. With a somewhat stagey offended expression, Razzle took her place between Glavia and Merrot in the last row while Spike knelt on one knee to not stand out too much. Though he could see the mare in the middle quite well, he found it hard to believe that the ex-editor-in-chief of a Ponyville student newspaper with, all in all, a Rich family background, had ended up working as a mere tour guide. Diamond Tiara waited for the murmur to settle down and carried on with her tale. “We call this chamber the Harmony Room. Before they were returned to the Tree of Harmony we’ve seen earlier, the Elements had been kept hidden inside stone orbs much like these here,” she said, pointing to a six-armed monument behind her. “Over sixteen years ago, a unicorn from Canterlot named Twilight Sparkle went on a quest to find the Elements. Just when she found this place and the first five Elements, the Mare in the Moon, or Nightmare Moon appeared and fled with them to the Single Throne Room. The two ponies clashed, but on her own and still without the final Element in her possession, our Twilight was quickly overpowered. Fortunately, she realized what the sixth, missing one was. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell your group what it was!” “Magic!” the students replied as one. “That’s right! With the timely arrival of her friends, Twilight wielded the most powerful magic known to ponydom, used it against Nightmare Moon and freed Princess Luna from under the dark spirit’s control. That was the first of many adventures in which she shared with her five fellow Element Bearers, but to tell them all would call for a much, much longer tour—and not just in here, but across almost all of Equestria… and even beyond,” she finished and beamed with satisfaction. “And that concludes our tour around the Castle of the Two Sisters. Thank you all so much for being such an excellent group, and thank you both Professor Little Tale and Professor Vesper Bell for bringing you to our museum. If you have any questions, please ask ahead!” Spike raised his hand. “Is it true that you were in Ponyville during that Summer Sun Celebration? When Nightmare Moon first appeared?” Diamond Tiara threw him a knowing stare. He winked back. Being more aware than others was so fun he just couldn’t help himself. “That’s right,” the mare played along. “I was just a filly, even younger than you, still waiting for my cutie mark to appear. It was pretty terrifying to see Nightmare Moon when we were all expecting Princess Celestia, and then, when the sun didn’t come up as usual, a lot of ponies in Ponyville panicked. I remember I was super worried about my friend, but my parents didn’t let me go and see her. But the dawn came around eventually, so I guess all’s well that ends well!” “But what about your friend?” Silk Stocking asked from her spot in the first row. “I certainly do hope she made it alright!” Classic Silk. Always after connections and leverages while selling her act as genuine care. “To be fair, Ponyville wasn’t in any immediate danger,” Diamond Tiara replied. “I tend to think of what happened as a really long, really weird night. Still, after that, Discord, Tirek, and other visitors we’ve had, my friend felt she owed Princess Twilight our well-being, so she decided to join the Royal Guard to make up for it. But again, that’s a different story.” She looked around the group, but found no hooves, paws, or talons in the air. “So, if there are no more questions…” Little Tale stepped forth and took a pocket watch out of her vest. “Alright, let’s thank Mrs. Tiara for the tour,” she said, to which the students cheered, some in genuine appreciation, others glad the tour was finally over. “Since it’s almost half past eleven, you have half an hour for yourself. We meet back at the Tree of Harmony at noon. Scratch that—five minutes before noon. You can visit your favorite exhibits again, go back to take notes, or buy some souvenirs. Souvenirs, not food, mind you! We have a dinner planned in Ponyville.” The group was quick to disperse in all directions. “Are you certain it is okay to set them loose like that?” Vesper Bell asked, troubled by the young ponies going out of her sight. “Relax, Ves. They can handle themselves,” Little Tale replied. “In the meantime, now comes the part you’ll be enjoying the most. Benches, sunbathing, gossiping.” “Thestrals do not sunbathe.” “Then you’re lucky I’m in a mood for chit-chat. Come on!” When everyone else left the scene, Spike and his friends gathered around the monument. Like in those intricate clockwork models representing the world, the central globe was surrounded with several smaller orbs placed on stone arms protruding from the middle. Instead of pretending to be the sun, moon, and stars, they all had symbols Spike knew all too well. A lightning bolt here, an apple a bit higher there, and the one he was looking for—out of his reach. Merrot cleared his throat. “So, uh, what do you want to do now? Should we go and see the tapestries again? They were nice.” Spike shook his head. “Pass. I promised Razzle I’d show her the entrance to a secret room.” “There are secret rooms here?” “Secret rooms, hidden passages, private chambers… you name it,” Razzle said. “A castle’s not a castle without these. Come with us—it’ll be fun!” From the Harmony Room and through the entrance hall, Spike led his friends to the western wing. While the layout remained mostly unchanged, he could feel the breath of fresh air that had livened up the interior. The castle wasn’t just cleaned up but it had been completely renovated. There were new roofs where needed, new slabs of stone where the floor cracked, and even the old torch holders were shining with their now regained gloss. At the same time, it had become a museum and thus gained an obligatory gift store, informational labels, restricted areas, and of course a bunch of tourists. Spike wasn’t sure if he liked this new take on the castle, as without dirty windows and cornered cobwebs it looked almost unnatural. Then again, there was probably no better use for this centuries-old pile of bricks. Twilight mentioned that once she had catalogued every book she could find and had taken the more precious ones to Canterlot or to her private collection, she scoured the castle grounds for magical auras and anomalies and used their energy to ward off the Everfree Forest in the vicinity. After that, she did another hundred and forty-eight things no one but her would be bothered to check. In the end, the castle was restored, but since neither of the Royal Sisters expressed any desire of returning, perhaps giving it a new purpose was the way to go. “Well, this is it,” Spike said as they entered the Western Reading Room. “That niche over there, with the manticore statue attached to the wall, see? There’s a room on the other side with a few more shelves but not much else. Sort of a backup room, I guess.” “For all the books you couldn’t fit in here?” Merrot guessed. “Or those you wanted to hide. But they’re all gone now, anyway. Twilight took them during one of her first Everfree Castle Clean-up Days.” “How many such days were there?” Glavia asked. “Way too many,” Spike deadpanned. Razzle spun around like someone evaluating her new housing opportunities. Only a narrow path around the chamber was available for the visitors. Everything else—the niche, bookcases, two sofas, a flat table with a bowl of fake fruits in between—was sealed off behind a red rope stretched across a few silvered poles. She nodded with content. “Nice, nice. This is a very nice place you’ve got here and I think I’ll take it. The fruity accent’s great, I really like it.” She stared at the statue with desire burning in her eyes. “So, how do we open it?” “What? No-no-no, we’re not opening it. I promised you the entrance so here it is, but we’re not going in. You can’t just go in!” “Okay. Noted.” She double-checked the empty corridors, then took a bold step under the ropes. “No offense, Big Guy, but so far you’ve only shown us some random wall with a cute pet. And I’ll only believe there’s other side when I see the other side.” She shrugged. “Ten seconds and I’m back, I swear. I mean, we all want to see the room behind it, right?” Spike groaned. Some ponies rebelled against the rules because they found them limiting, others did it because they thought them unfair. Then there was Razzle Lulamoon. “You mean you want to see the room behind it,” he said. “Guys, help me out here.” Merrot frowned, calculating his options. “Well… I guess a little peek can’t hurt, and seeing the passage actually opening would validate your claim. For the moment, I have to agree with Lula-Razzle. You’ve technically shown us just a wall, and although we believe you, we have no way of knowing for sure. Of course we have to consider that should we be caught, we’ll likely end up in trouble. So, if you’ll excuse me”—in a burst of green light, he transformed into a pegasus of indistinctive looks—“we have a secret to uncover!” “You two are irresponsible,” Glavia remarked. Razzle threw her a grin. “Come on, girl. Be more adventurous!” Her horn lit as she swiftly scanned the niche. “Alright, so no unusual streams here. This place isn’t more magical than the rest of the castle, so it’s got to be mechanical.” She stomped her hoof on the stone floor, then knocked on the wall. “Hmm. My guess is it’s a moving wall. Maybe it slides down or to the side, or—” She looked back. The slabs in the semicircle within the niche were arranged differently. “Ha! It’s a rotating wall! Classic. The question is, in which direction does it turn? What do you think, Merrot?” “I’m sorry, you’d have to ask someling from the Maker Caste to get an expert opinion on the stonework here.” “I’ll take a non-expert opinion, then.” “Well, realistically, there are two options, so I’d say… clockwise. That means you would want to stand here prior to entering.” Merrot took position to the left. “Right here. There has to be a hidden switch of some kind nearby. How about that torch?” Razzle crawled from under the statue’s belly and made her way to the head. She reached out, but the cast iron holder didn’t want to be pulled, pushed, turned, or otherwise disturbed. “No, that’s not it. But”—she knocked on the statue’s back, receiving a partially hollow sound—“that poor manticore hasn’t been fed for a while now. And I think I know what that means!” she said and flashed a smug smile across the room. With his arms crossed, Spike rolled his eyes to not give the gloating filly any satisfaction, but also to hide his irritation. Razzle and Merrot were doing a much better job searching for the passage than he did in his youth. Of course it was Twilight’s fault, as she was absolutely certain that removing one of the heavy tomes would cause the wall to turn, but since she was too busy rounding up magic in the adjacent rooms, someone else had to waste his afternoon testing that theory. Merrot took a step back. “It’s quite spacious. It used to be an alicorn castle, right?” He broke off the ground and hovered by the manticore’s head. “So assuming your leaders were of similar height as they are now, they would want the switch to be accessible. They are right-hoofed, correct?” He stretched his foreleg to the right and further adjusted his altitude. “It would be logical to put it somewhere…” “Here!” he and Razzle said in unison, staring into the wide open jaw. “Maybe there’s something that needs to be pressed inside?” “Or maybe it’ll bite your hoof off!” Spike yelled. The changeling gulped and withdrew. “On second thought, Lula-Razzle, he may have a point. It may be dangerous.” “I know. Awesome, right?” On the other side of the room, Glavia whispered, “I think she may have issues.” “Yeah? What was your first clue?” Spike mumbled back, then called out to the filly as she hung down from the manticore’s muzzle. “I mean, don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’ll be getting your peg leg! But, you know, do whatever you want. I don’t care.” Razzle’s ears perked at such blatant apathy. She chewed the warning over, chuckled, and faced the beast. “I’m doing this.” “Don’t do this! It’s not worth the risk!” Merrot cried on the verge of panic. “I’m doing this!” The manticore’s eyes were empty, deprived of mercy that would not be granted to those entering the ravages of its chops. Razzle slowly slid her hoof along the hard as stone teeth. She took a deep breath, then exhaled, and proceeded deeper. The cold tongue licking her foreleg was yearning for a meal, she could feel it, and the pointy tail that was lurking over was but one swing away from delivering its poison. Somewhere from beyond the sounds of her hammering heart and blood rushing across her skull, she heard Merrot lamenting something about too much tension. Breath. Trickles of sweat ran down her forehead. Exhale. Razzle knew she couldn’t stop now—she could only go forward on this treacherous path. She stared into the throat’s void and the void looked back, trying to consume her courage. The filly did not blink, nor did she look away, only clenched her teeth and braced for the ultimate sacrifice in the name of exploration. She shoved her hoof in as deep as she could. Spike watched in silence. Glavia reached to her satchel. Merrot screamed. “Hey, look, a lever,” Razzle said, pulled it, and jumped down. Her foreleg, safe for a few smears of dust, was unharmed. “Oh, thank the ancestors!” Merrot sighed with relief, slumping to the floor. The crank of the retracting lever became a prelude to the cascade of metallic click-clacks. They first came from the statue’s insides, then from the center of the wall, and when they went deep under, the entire niche trembled. Stone slabs and bricks rubbed against each other, taking Razzle and Merrot for a ride. “That’s more like it! See ya!” Razzle exclaimed before the turning wall swallowed them whole. An identical manticore dressed in cobwebs and dust replaced its twin. Groaning, Spike trailed his hand across his face. “I guess I should have expected that.” “I think you did expect that,” Glavia said as she sat beside him. “You could have easily stopped them if you wanted to.” “And then put up with Razzle as she complains about another blown one-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the rest of my life? Thanks, but no thanks,” Spike said. “Besides, as a dragon, I can appreciate her want for independence, though I would never tell that to her face. It’s in her nature, and understanding one’s nature comes from one’s experiences, so taking away someone’s chance to experience something is just wrong.” “Your kind values freedom, then.” “Mhm. I was taught that unless someone messes with the place you live in, your stuff, or your family, you let them be. It’s sort of a code.” “What if you knew for sure someone’s experience would lead them into trouble? What does your code say then?” Spike leaned on a barrier pole and pondered. He tapped around the top several times, the jingle of his ring granting the focus to his thoughts. While both dragons and ponies had valid points on how to live one’s life, they both missed certain virtues that were so innate to the other. There was no true passion nor desire in the pony philosophy much like there was no genuine caring in the dragon ways. “My code says we should be ready to care more than necessary,” he replied. “But it’s not strictly dragon. It’s a part I kind of figured on my own, you know what I’m saying?” “In a way. Thank you for sharing.” Spike gazed at the statue, awaiting its prompt movement, but such didn’t occur. He puffed his cheeks and exhaled slowly, but he gave up halfway and released his breath in a sharp sigh. “Alright, I’m done. Her ten seconds are definitely up,” he said and stepped over the barrier. “I mean, what’s taking them so long? There’s really nothing to see in there. I’ll get them.” Glavia followed him without delay. “Are you sure about this?” he chuckled. “From what I heard, you have a reputation of what they call ‘a good student’ around the SGI. Isn’t your code supposed to be about going with the rules?” She gave him a mysterious smile and stepped into the niche. “You could say there are parts I’m figuring out on my own.” Surprise made way for awe. When it came to Razzle and Merrot, Spike could generally tell what their way of living was about. He had seen that exact youthful bravado in other ponies, and he could understand Merrot’s anxiety when it came to trying to fit in. He could relate, as for the first couple of months among the dragons he too felt uncertain and lost. As a pony-raised outcast, he was met with distrust, sometimes scorn, and even when he was trying to grasp the widely accepted conventions, it didn’t always work out in his favor. Glavia, however—that girl was something else. Spike pulled the lever down the beast’s throat. Before the floor traveled its full course, he heard the excited voices coming from the other side. “…correct, but why would anyone do that?” “That’s the puzzle! Maybe Spike will know,” Razzle said and straightened up from a weird crouch. Two magical fireflies were orbiting around her sunflower-lit horn, providing enough light to guide Spike and Glavia to the center of the room. “Hello, fellow explorers! How nice of you to join us!” “Playtime’s over, guys,” Spike said. “I’m all in for detours, but seeing that there’s nothing here but old—oh. Oh! Well, this is new.” The shelves stayed empty as he had remembered them and the corners could still use a meet-and-greet with mops and a bucket of water, but what caught his attention was the alarming shortage of floor at his feet. With no stone slabs covering the ground, and no beaten earth underneath to stand on, Spike found himself on the edge of a gaping hole. “I take it that your duties during the Castle Clean-up Days didn’t include filling up the cracks in the floor?” Merrot asked after a while. “Ha-ha, very funny,” Spike replied. “This definitely wasn’t here the last time I visited. Maybe the museum staff dug it when they were strengthening the foundations or something?” “Unlikely. The state of the floor doesn’t support that theory.” Spike raised a disapproving eyebrow. “Sorry. What I meant to say is that there’s dust everywhere, but only dust. They would have to break the floor, dig, take away all the earth, clean the room, and then leave it for a good few years without ever fixing it back. Without coming back at all! It doesn’t make sense, unless the Workers in Equestria are simply that tardy.” “Maybe they forgot.” “Maybe they never came back from down there,” Glavia cut in softly, though it didn’t make the idea any less sinister. “Razzle? We could use some more light down there.” “Sure thing!” the filly said and shot a charged clump of orange magic into the hole. Her unimpressive posture jerked back with the recoil that, judging by her squeak, surprised her, but not anyone else. Upon its much expected explosion, the clump sent magical fireflies all around the shaft. “Nice! It looks like it goes on under the castle. But if you think I’ll just turn back now and go watch the wall rugs and whatnots, then you—” Spike clasped her muzzle. “Relax. This time even I’m game. Just let me go first, okay?” The filly tried to protest. “Listen! If whoever dug this tunnel is still out there, perhaps I’ll be able to bite off their faces before they bite off your hooves. And hey, if anyone asks, I’ll make sure you get all the credit and glory,” he proposed, releasing the grip. “So how’s that?” “Glory’s overrated,” Razzle remarked. “But I guess having four hooves isn’t. Alright—go for it. Shout if you’ll need us. When you’ll need us.” The initial drop wasn’t high. When Spike coughed some fire into his fist and tossed it further into darkness, the emerald glow revealed that the tunnel was going down a steep slope. Solid, but already decaying wooden beams were propped at fairly regular intervals, supporting the ceiling and giving shape to the narrow passage—often too narrow for the average pony to comfortably turn. There was also almost no gravel along the path. It wasn’t anything Spike hadn’t seen before. In fact, it was quite the opposite. “It’s safe! You can come down!” The initial drop wasn’t high—for a dragon, that is. Glavia and Merrot offered to take Razzle down, and soon the group was traversing the mysterious corridor with the orange glow leaping over their heads. “I wonder who set all these,” Glavia said. “This isn’t changeling tunneling,” Merrot’s reply came from behind, “so my guess would be houndrels. They are the only other race I can think of that’s advanced enough to build something like this. Unless you have some other relatively smart underground species in Equestria?” “Nah, it’s houndrels alright,” Spike confirmed. “Diamond Dogs, to be more specific.” “Rude!” Razzle said. “You can’t just call them dogs. Dogs can’t talk, they don’t walk on two paws, and they don’t wear clothes. Some clothes, at least.” “No, you don’t understand—there used to be a pack of houndrel miners near Ponyville who called themselves Diamond Dogs, so it’s fine to call them that. They were never particularly dangerous, if a bit annoying. They made a mistake of kidnapping a close friend of mine once,” he said. As he pondered upon his undeniably heroic youth, an arrogant gloat crept up on his face. “Not to brag or anything, but let me tell you, it did not end well for them.” “Should I feel safe… or concerned?” Merrot asked. Looking back, Glavia gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Spike would never hurt any of us.” “I do count as ‘us’, right? Guys? Anyone? Come on!” The tunnel widened and opened into a cave, the dead end of which greeted them with a dark, round slab. It was mounted behind two stalagmites which joined together by the ceiling akin to two upright parts of a skewed doorjamb. Unlike the solid rock walls surrounding it, the slab between the spires had a coarse texture and looked like it had been hewed someplace else, and only then brought down to serve its purpose. Flexing his muscles, Spike pressed on. “Hnngh! No, it won’t move. It’s jammed. Hold on”—he tore down the veil of cobweb—“letters! Can I get more light here?” GREETINGS PONYS BEEWARE “Greetings ponies beware?” Merrot read the crudely carved words. “Beware of what?” “Dangerous spelling no less,” Spike replied. “That first line… it looks different. Maybe newer. And look here!” TAKE MAGICS BACK “What’s that supposed to mean?” Razzle asked. “Did these guys first want to scare the visitors off but then changed their mind? What’s their deal?” “Beats me. But if they were really that inviting, they wouldn’t have left the door closed.” He took a step back. “Any ideas how to move this thing?” “We blast it open!” “No!” Merrot and Spike exclaimed. The changeling shook his head. “I nominate two major reasons. First, a blast may destabilize the tunnel and bury us alive. Second, it may damage or even destroy whatever is to be found on the other side. Either of these two would hinder our chances at solving this mystery.” “Alright, then we pick the lock!” “What, you’re a locksmith too?” Spike teased. Razzle summoned one of the fireflies into her bag and rummaged through its contents. “No, but I have this paper clip,” she replied. “And also… no, just the clip. Hmm. I guess they weren’t joking about the hairpins in every mare’s bag.” “Are you for real? You can’t just open stuff by shoving any thin thingy in.” “You can open some doors that way. Seriously, you should read more.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Doors that have locks! Doors that aren’t a big chunk of rock! Rocks have no keyholes, no handles, no nothing!” “Well, I guess I’d be fine with blasting it if that’s what you’re going for.” “No! You just keep the lights on and I’ll think of something,” he said, pacing back and forth. “Let’s see… a tunnel made by Diamond Dogs… a door without a handle… ponies beware… and taking back the magic. Maybe it only opens for houndrels? Do you think you could change into one, Merrot?” Glavia walked to the side and eyed a cavity that was partially obscured by the stalagmite. “We are adaptive, but not to such degree and not without enough time,” the changeling replied, shedding his pony disguise. “We can change into forms we are inherently familiar with, that is into those from which we have received the emotive energy. We hatch because our eggs are infused with a sufficient amount delivered by the changelings of the Feeder Caste, such as myself, to a place called the Spawning Pools. Feeders work among the ponies on the surface, gather as much energy as they can, and then bring it down to the Hive. They leave most at the Pools and use the surplus to heighten the mood across the clusters.” “Hey, I didn’t know that,” Razzle said, fastening her bag. “Does it mean that somewhere out there lies another changeling, uhm, queendom where they can change into griffons? Or dragons?” “It is a theoretical possibility,” Merrot carefully replied, then hastily added, “B-but they’d be well hidden, practically impossible to find! Visiting Hive Chrysalis is one thing, but other changelings may not be as progressive as we are. So I’d advise against it.” He presented his case for naught, for Razzle had already drifted away. “It’s cool. Scary, but cool,” she mumbled and freed the bagged glint. “One thing at a time, though—we have to find the way in. Maybe there’s a secret password?” She took a deep breath and, stomping her hoof, demanded, “Open Sesame!” Just like that, the stone slab tumbled inside the passage. “What—you just—what?” Spike babbled on the verge of desperation. He shook Merrot by the shoulders and pleaded, “Please, PLEASE tell me you did that or else there’ll be no living with her!” “But I did nothing!” “I did,” Glavia said. There was a silver string coming from the mist surrounding her talisman, sank in a cavity distanced from the now opened path. The string bulged, like there was a water balloon squeezing from the other side, and when it finally came through, it took shape of a fox which ran across the space to his mistress. Glavia’s eyes were covered by a band of magic which evaporated as she turned to the trio. “I noticed a hole in the wall. I asked my spirit guide to investigate.” She caressed the fox, smudging his ethereal contours with every stroke. He grinned before turning into mist and returning to the talisman. “Furiel showed me what’s on the other side, and I noticed there was a stone beam blocking the way. I would have never moved it if it wasn’t for his help, to be honest, but together we managed.” She approached her friends. “Shall we?” “Woo-hoo! Girl power!” Razzle bounced up and sent her fireflies forth. The light illuminated it whole. From all around the cavern, grooves carved in the ground flowed towards the center where they joined into a perfect, one-foot-deep ring. There were gemstones embedded every now and then along those lines, many of which had internal cracks or chipped edges. The ring had even bigger gemstones, blacked from within and devoid of their shine. Within the ring stood a massive, barrel-shaped pedestal covered with a tattered veil. “Hello? Anybody home?” Razzle called. “Hmm. Looks abandoned.” “I think it’s some kind of a workshop,” Merrot replied, looking around. “Here, on the table! These are cutting tools. There’s a broken grindstone, too, and this bucket here is full of gemstone shards.” “What about these lines?” Glavia said. “It feels like there has been a lot of magic going through them once. Can you feel it?” Spike opened to the arcane forces surrounding him. The overall saturation across the cavern was low, but whatever particles remained were following the course set by the grooves, streaming from one gemstone to another. He conjured a little flare at the top of his finger and immersed it in the invisible flow. The flame burst and expanded without any effort on his side, capturing the particles that kept on coming. When it grew to the size of a tangerine, he doused the spell and stepped over the center ring. “I can confirm that,” Merrot said, his horn losing some of its glow once he took it out from the stream. “Look. There are twelve lines in total. A single one, a pair, another single one, and another pair. There is a pattern.” “And they all converge… here,” Spike said, throwing the veil away. The pedestal’s flat top was embellished with a mosaic of gems of all kinds. Larger rubies and citrines constituted the most of it, but the picture wasn’t short of shining sapphires, emeralds and amethysts as well. Yet there were scars on this work of art—many gemstones were cracked, others matted, and others again broken into shards. One had a dark smudge underneath which likely remembered the outburst that had pushed the nearby stones away, thus ruining the carefully laid composition. In the very middle, underneath a glass dome, a perfectly preserved bluish flower rose straight from the stone. It’s purple roots slithered between the gemstones, and its chalice was closed. “I-I may require a reality check,” Merrot anxiously said, but the others were too dumbstruck to respond. “It’s a fake, right? Plants like that do need sunlight and water to survive, correct?” “Unless they’re feeding off something else,” Spike replied. “I’ve never seen such a flower before.” “I want to draw it,” Glavia said, taking out her sketchbook. Razzle reached out to one of the loose gemstones, but was quickly stopped by just about everyone’s timely reaction. “What? I’m behaving!” she said. “It’s just there’s still magic inside some of these gems, so perhaps Mr. Flower here feeds on that. Speaking of, you dragons eat gems, right? What would happen if you ate one that’s full of magic?” “Depends how full, but nothing bad most of the time,” Spike replied. “Do you know those sweets that feel like they’re cracking and exploding once you taste them? Like little grains bouncing all around your mouth? It’s exactly like that. But I’m sure not eating these, and we also better not touch the flower, just in case.” He took a step back. “Alright, let’s take a look around. I don’t think our magic jewelers-florists are coming back anytime soon.” “You guys go ahead,” Merrot said and stared at the mosaic. “I think the placing is not entirely random. I just need a minute.” Spike followed deeper into what looked like the living quarters of the cavern. It was crude, but not uncivilized. A desk was made of two stone blocks and a door, but the only chair standing by it—a properly cut stump—was at least covered with a warming patchwork of cloths, the variety of which could contend with the Carousel Boutique’s secondary scrap room. A trail of dried ink led to a toppled vial that had missed its cork somewhere, and the improvised shelves-cavities overhead had scrolls and books all along. He sent a flare to a patinated candlestick and leafed through the most worn-out tome. “Months and years, but no days,” he murmured. “The first entry: November 1200.” Quick shuffling and deal—in the year twelve hundred he was still a magically unconscious baby dragon and Twilight was still an antisocial nerd. November was just a few months into their move to Ponyville. “Guys! I think I found a journal!” “Read on!” Razzle yelled from inside a huge chest, then went back to rummaging and ruckus. Spike cleared his throat and began, “When we once saw the White Lady while her hunt, we desired the power, but we not understand it. We wanted to use her to better mine, but she made a trick on us. Then pack came to take away from us. And gems. Many time later, we pact with the White Lady. Our most fire ruby in exchange her power. Then talk. The White Lady explained she give not her powers, but Diamond Dog showed more gems and his own. We asked. She us understand and discover ours as good. The name of power is magic.” “That White Lady figure sounds ominous,” Glavia remarked between her masterful pencil strokes. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Spike chuckled, lazily turning the pages. “Let’s see. Our Diamond Dog had a knack for magic. Some pictures, tables, even charts.” “No, that’s not it,” Merrot said under his breath. “Sorry? You were saying? Ah, yes, I have a question. How does the houndrel magic even work? You wrote an essay for Professor Ink-Well on that, right?” “Yup. I went the easy way because there were no houndrel spellcasters in the pre-classical era, plus my roommate’s one, so I asked,” Spike said. “Alright, where do I start? You remember the Four ‘A’s model, right? Some houndrels can attune to the streams of magic but they can’t actively align them into spell patterns. However, they can influence the streams in a passive way by using all kinds of gemstones. I think rubies are supposed to make the particles turn right, sapphires left, diamonds to go straight up… but only if they’re flawless, otherwise it goes down. I think. You know what, don’t quote me on that.” Glavia turned to the slightly confused changeling. “Think painting. Rather than using a brush to paint spell patterns, they fold the canvas so that the paint would flow in the right direction.” “Exactly. Next comes the anticipation part, so the moment you’d normally picture the spell effect. They don’t do that, either. They see the result, they know what the outcome will be, but it doesn’t come from them.” “They weren’t holding the brush, nor did they bring the paint,” Glavia added. “After some time, the pattern imprints itself on one of the gemstones. The last ‘A’ is for activation, but that depends on the spell locked in one. Some activate right after the imprint is complete, other require you to throw them, crack them, or put next to some other stones. It takes time, but if there’s one thing I know about them is that they’re patient,” Spike concluded. “Did that help?” “I liked Arva-Glavia’s version better. But here’s a thing—isn’t it just about putting gemstones in order and monitoring the arcane flow? Because anyone can do that!” “It’s a little more complicated,” Glavia said. “You and I see the streams as a whole. They see individual strings in the colors of gemstones through which they have come. That’s why they can be so precise in their work.” “Oh, okay. I guess that does make sense,” Merrot replied. “Well, now I know what I’ll be studying over the weekend. Their take on magic is fascinating!” Pot-sounding clangs came from a nearby equivalent of a room. Razzle, who not for the first time was late for class, emerged like nothing happened. She shrugged casually. “I mean, wow, have you guys seen their kitchen? It’s a mess, I tell you. Also, don’t go in there,” she warned them. Spike snickered and returned to his lecture. “March 1201. August 1201. March 1202. Some of those aren’t even real entries. There are tables comparing gemstones, pictures, short notes… this one just says ‘we progress’ and the rest of the page is empty. And here’s a big picture of some tree,” he said. “Here’s something longer. Diamond Dog met with my brothers in beyond the Jaws. The walk was long and falling rock not helped the walk. The brother who know magic earlier showed Diamond Dog the way. Now Diamond Dog can magic too, and the magic can through him. Hide some of the gems instead of trade, because some help do magic. Maybe too help know the secret of the Great Tree on surface. Alright, I get the idea—the guys from around here didn’t know the first thing about magic, but they learned thanks to some other pack which did.” “What about that Great Tree? Anything on that?” Merrot asked. “Or Great Flowers? Great Plants in General?” “I’ll check some of the recent ones. January 1207, close enough. That’s the year when the Houndrel Confederacy was founded and the Exodus started,” he said. “After many tries Diamond Dog knows this: is not possible to choose another Fruit like is not possible to choose another way for the brothers. Every other decided itself what is to be. That is because Diamond Dog tried many time to decide how the Fruit should look, but the magic coming to the disagreed and go own way. Many tries for many moons, but the Fruit wants to be the Unlooked Sky. There’s a sketch of a sun right under.” “A fruit?” Razzle asked. “A sun?” Glavia inquired. “Perhaps it has something to do with your leader,” Merrot said. “She bears the mark of a sun much like Lula-Razzle bears hers.” He gasped and took flight. “Of course! These lines also resemble a sun, or at least its popular depiction in art. The ring is the central discus, and the grooves are the sun rays!” “I’ll just repeat after myself: a fruit?” Spike returned to the drawing. It depicted neither a conifer, nor a tree with regular leaves. He could forgive the lack of colors and instead making the trunk blue and roots purple, but making the crown full of little, bead-like balls was questionable at least. He put the book down. Could it be? The premise was slightly too big to wrap his head around it, but so would be any revelation of such magnitude. “Well,” he slowly began, “if we assume that the Great Tree he’s talking about is the Tree of Harmony…” Razzle’s eyes widened. “No. No way. There’s only six Elements of Harmony, everypony knows that.” “If every pony knows there are only six to seek, then it only takes being a non-pony to keep looking for, or as it is apparent in this case, try growing the seventh,” Merrot said. “Given the rather slim interest in magic among the local houndrels, it would take a push from someone else. Someone with a truly cosmic knowledge of magic. That someone could employ one of the Diamond Dogs, experts on gemstones, to do the work for her.” “Her? Who do you have in mind?” “Well, we are standing on a big sun, are we not?” “Princess Celestia isn’t like that,” Spike said, shaking his head. “Are you certain?” He withheld Merrot’s questioning stare, but pondered nonetheless. Princess Celestia and her sister were no longer bound to the Elements of Harmony, and those were, without a doubt, pretty handy devices when it came to solving problems. Even if he wasn’t a greedy dragon, Spike would feel good having another set—for emergencies. They weren’t something you could just buy at any next store, though. To create them, it would probably take power, resources, and as Merrot put it, a cosmic knowledge of magic. Princess Celestia had it all. Given her reign span, she had probably done a few unrevealed, necessary-from-a-certain-point-of-view things to keep the world from falling apart. “No,” Spike answered after a while. “You’re right. I can’t say I’m sure.” “Just because you are not sure does not make me right,” Merrot replied. “Again, I’m astonished by your lack of faith in your leaders! If you pass a judgment upon them, you should keep to it. Defend it if necessary,” he said and shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just us. Anyway, my theory may not be correct. Maybe it wasn’t Princess Celestia who put this plant here. Maybe our Diamond Dog took a piece, like a seed, from the Tree of Harmony and figured it out on his own.” Glavia walked around the pedestal, giving her sketch final touches. “Do you think he was trying to grow his own Tree? It doesn’t seem he succeeded much.” “He achieved something,” Razzle said. “Go to the last page! If he got stuck on something, maybe he’ll tell us what it was.” Spike returned to the pedestal. “Last entry. It’s from May 1208. The brothers leaving for better tomorrow. The work on the Fruit not done, but when done, but when done, I will no longer be here. The roots are too deep to take with for the road, but it take more time for magic to food the Fruit. The brothers decided we go beyond to live on surface. No more cold. No more dark. I want to see the new land before I end, so I go too. I can be useful—the Great Pack may been built upon faith, but it will grow large on progress, both in magic and in tools. I go, but I don’t want to show ponies the Fruit or my work. I fear they will stop me going south. Take magics back.” “That’s like, what, seven years of studying magic? It’s longer than school!” Razzle said. “He could’ve made a professor after that, but instead he just… left?” “Building a better future for his own kind was more important to him than dwelling upon the past of another,” Glavia replied. “He left those gemstones hoping for the best. Many of them have burnt out.” “Obviously he never had a car. You need to replace the crystals in the engine too from time to time. That’s why they say it’s easier to buy a car than to keep it running,” Razzle said. “Gah, if we only had enough spares to fix the conduit…” For the first time this semester, Spike felt excited about studying magic. Working on an unfinished Element of Harmony was Twilight-level stuff, something he had been denied for far too long. Then again, there was a reason certain things weren’t meant to be trifled with by a first year student. Still, he was much more than just a first year student. “We don’t need those,” he said. “Can’t you see? He set it all up to direct the streams towards the center. The flow of magic worked like a sprinkler that kept watering the flower, well, until it broke.” He picked up a cracked citrine and compared it against the garnet in his ring. His was much more battered. “Uhm, I mean, you don’t need gemstones. Unlike houndrels, we can send magic directly into the flower and feed it. I think.” Razzle bounced up. “I’m game! Do you need help with that?” “Spike and I should not involve ourselves,” Glavia cut in before him. “This is pony magic after all.” “Good point,” the filly replied. “However, if it’s not conjuration I’d rather not touch it. You remember what happened last time. Merrot, it’s on you. Changeling magic is identical to pony, right?” “Yes, pretty much. We’re only powered differently.” He walked around the pedestal. “Speaking of which, what we’re aiming at is sending a sustained beam of magic into the innermost part of the circuit. It is connected with the dome and probably the roots too, so it should transfer the energy further into the flower. What we don’t know is how much energy it will require, and since we are likely to only get one shot at this, I need to be sure.” He stopped by the filly. “Razzle, I need some love.” Razzle blushed. “L-love?” “That’s right. If you hug me, you’ll generate enough love energy between us on which I can feed and thus make my magic stronger!” he proudly said. “Excuse me, have I said something wrong? You seem bewildered.” When the filly gave out but a squeak, Spike rolled his eyes. “Oh boy. Why it has to be me?” He crouched by the confused changeling and whispered. “You see, you guys feed on love energy, so you think of it as a sweet treat not unlike a slice of cake. But for the ponies it means, uhm, it means taking their acquaintanceship to the next level. It involves things like flowers, dates, and kisses. Mustaches too, sometimes, if they’re into it. For the ponies, love is a pretty big word, and you just made our little filly very uncomfortable.” “Ancestors!” Merrot exclaimed. “Lula-Razzle, forgive me! I did not mean to sound insolent! Emotive—or better yet, positive! Positive energy, that’s what I should have used. You will generate positive energy.” She rubbed her neck in further abashment. “Yeah, positive. I can be positive. Positively.” She raised her head and looked at Merrot, her cheeks burning. “Deal. But I have a feeling this will be awkward.” “I apologize for that, but it has to originate from a pony and our choices are limited. Ancestors know this will be an awkward moment for me too.” He performed a quick inhale-exhale routine, then straightened up. “Alright. I am prepared to receive your hug. You can close your eyes if it helps.” Razzle took a step into Merrot’s personal space and shyly wrapped her forelegs around him. “Okay… like this?” “To be perfectly honest, I have no idea. I have never been hugged before.” “Like never-ever? Not even on your birthday?” “Uh, hugging is not that popular among our customs, so I would say no, not even once.” “You poor thing!” Razzle uttered with her eyes wide open and a ‘to heck with all it’ expression painted on her face. “Everyone deserves a hug!” With that, she gave her utmost. Since only another changeling would be able to see and taste the love energy swirling in the air, Spike was left with watching the arcane field surrounding the two. For a brief moment, the particles were drawn between their touching chests where they boiled with the fury of a roaring waterfall. They wrapped themselves around some invisible bubble like they were carrying a cargo precious and dangerous alike. Merrot bared his fangs and hissed it inwards, causing the particles to disperse back into their irregular flow. His horn flared soon after, first with the vivid red miasma Spike had seen many times in classes, but then with a freshly added, glistening layer of deep crimson. “Most invigorating! Uh, you can stop hugging me now.” “I can? Oops! Sorry. I mean—it’s that chitin collar. Smooth, kinda,” the filly chuckled nervously. “I can say the same thing about pony coats,” he replied, equally confounded. “I transform into your kind all the time, but that’s not even close to the real thing. It turns out the texture—” He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s me getting nerdy again. Please stand back!” Spike lined up with Glavia. “These two, am I right?” he whispered through a sly grin. “You may be right. How about you? You seem to know a lot about love.” “Nah. I know a thing or two about being in love, and even more about thinking you’re being in love, but not love itself. There’s a difference.” “Is there really? After all, you don’t need to see the bird to appreciate its singing.” Razzle threw them a glance of disapproval. “Focus, you guys! Something’s happening, you can get all lovosophical once we’re done here!” Spike and Glavia looked upon each other and snickered, but then raised emerald and silver flames respectively—just in case. Streams of magic arced around the pedestal, taking gradually smaller circles as they closed in on the dome. The glass soon yielded under the torrential influx, cracking, allowing them to pass forth, through the rubies and citrines of the inner circuit and right into the flower itself. Awakened by the caressing strings of red and yellow energy, the flower’s chalice bulged like it was taking a long-awaited breath, then pulled away its petals to reveal a crystal token hidden within. It wasn’t much larger than a bit, but more scarlet than the most ripe of strawberries. Twirling, the token shot up through the glass dome, shattering it. The heat gathered underneath radiated across the cave, turning the swirling magic into a pleasant, warm wind. The token grew, expanding its crystalline structure a fraction of an inch at the time into four cardinal directions akin to those set by a compass rose. Its edges blazed as the colors were changing, first with pure white, through yellow, and finally with ruby red to match the rest. “It’s so bright!” Merrot shouted, shielding his eyes from the blinding light. “It’s like staring at the sun!” Razzle yelled back. “You can cut it off now!” “I already have!” The crystal token was drawing magic on its own now. The grooves filled with raw energy seeping from the ceiling, the embedded gemstones exploded one by one as waves of magic crashed through them, but the token’s desire for power was insatiable. The magic kept coming faster than it could soak into its surface, so the excess combusted and wrapped it with a scorching layer of golden fire. The flames grew twice, thrice, then ten times as large and imposing, taking shape after the extraordinary trinket shimmering at their heart. “Stay together!” Spike commanded, raising a shield bubble around himself and his friends who eagerly contributed towards sustaining it. The magic burst violently over the pedestal, hurling the remaining gemstones and sending flames all around. The shield held thanks to the concerted effort, but the rest of the cavern was not so lucky. What was paper turned to ash, what was made of wood was set alight for few moments, and whatever metal tool had been left on the tables was now melting. When the fire retracted and collapsed into itself, a high-pitched, screeching sound not unlike the cry of a phoenix was heard—or so it resembled one. The fires ceased. The token was gone. All that remained was a smoldering mess. Razzle conjured a single firefly to make up for all those which had been consumed in the blast. “Everyone alright?” Spike asked. “I am well,” Glavia replied calmly despite her trembling. Merrot coughed thorough the smoke. “I’m—fine! What was that? Just what on depths was that? Did we just create an actual Element of Harmony?” “More like we turned it on,” Spike said. “Though I’m not sure we should have. It’s just—whoa, that was something.” “It’s not here!” Razzle ran back to the pedestal. “But it looked exactly like Princess Celestia’s cutie mark. You were right, Merrot—it had something to do with her!” “Are you sure?” Spike took out an Equestrian bit. “Look! This is Princess Celestia’s cutie mark. It has eight streaks coming from the middle. That thing had more like four.” “I’m telling you it had eight, though the four main were longer, that’s for sure. I don’t know about you, guys, but for me that’s close enough.” She jumped on the pedestal and proudly announced, “What we saw must have been Princess Celestia’s seventh, secret Element of Harmony. Ha! This is the best museum trip ever!” She jumped down, clearly having trouble containing herself. She kept trotting back and forth in amassing excitement. “I’ll have to visit the Archives soon. Maybe even today! Surely there’s a book or a scroll or a something treating about how the Princesses used the Elements in the past. Do you thing that’s a good place for a start? I think it’s a good place for a start.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Right, go for another research. It’ll end like your last one. You gave up on searching for your mysterious unicorn after, what, two weeks?” “I haven’t given up. I am taking a well-deserved break to analyze the gathered data. Oh! I just realized! The White Lady from the Diamond Dog’s journal had to be Princess Celestia. Princess Celestia taught them magic!” “No, wait, you got it all wrong!” Spike laughed. “Remember what I told you about my friend who got kidnapped? She’s a white unicorn and she can make a good use of the gem finding spell. The White Lady part definitely means her.” “Is your friend a powerful spellcaster?” Merrot asked. “Skilled enough to pass her knowledge onto others?” “Well, uhm, not exactly. She’s a fashion designer. I don’t suppose anyone would ask for her tutoring when they had Twilight around the corner.” “So it could be Princess Celestia,” Glavia said much to the filly’s merriment. “You are not interested in the hard facts I’m throwing at you, are you?” “Ha! I’m an explorer!” Razzle exclaimed. “In this business we don’t let silly things such as facts distract us!” Spike stood defeated by his friend’s unquenchable enthusiasm. There was just no reasoning with her when she was at her best-slash-worst. “You know what, how about you just explore the way out of here? The others are probably already waiting for us.” She stepped before the group with a grin. “Sure thing! Follow me!” “The exit is the other way,” Spike deadpanned. Unshaken, Razzle pivoted back and marched with the same smug joy on her muzzle. “Then we’ll go the other way. Onwards!” Spike looked around the cavern one last time. The smoke was quick to disperse with the cooling draft, revealing the smoldered pedestal. It didn’t look pretty, but he wasn’t sorry about the mess and any guilt he could possibly have he threw away. For once, the dragon mantra felt fitting—it just wasn’t his lair, it wasn’t anyone’s lair at this point, so there was really no reason to care. His only regret was that the flower had been obliterated with the rest of the gemstones. Of course it was never about the flower. Spike couldn’t tell what happened to the strangely shaped gem or whether it really was the Element of Harmony. If it didn’t break, and he was pretty sure it didn’t, because unleashing that amount of magic would have been fatal, then it must have sent it somewhere, but where to was beyond anyone’s guess. He didn’t worry too much about it. Dabbling in high-end magic was fun and all, but it wasn’t his place to go on some silly dragon quest, no, those things were better left to Twilight. She loved cryptic journals and she probably had more than enough time to be bothered, but Spike almost wished his next assignments to involve long, boring, and most unadventurous treaties. After all, he agreed to start with the basics. * * * Was she ready for this? That question had been haunting Twilight ever since she had the opportunity of watching young and gifted individuals during their enrollment try-outs. They all had skills, there was no denying that, and those who had been accepted had a talent too, so it would be a terrible loss if they couldn’t make the most of it during their school years. Regrettably, with several classes and dozens of pupils, the professors couldn’t afford to work with each of them individually, but at the end of the day that was the only way the magical aptitude could flourish. At least that’s how Princess Celestia was running things, whether it was about Twilight, Sunset Shimmer, or likely many talented unicorns before them. Two were needed to play that game: the teacher and the student. Twilight had certain skills in the art of spellcasting, there was no denying that either. The mark on her flank was the stamp on her talent certificate, and she knew she was going to have to deal with the prospect sooner or later, but given the choice she would rather go with the latter. It wasn’t like she was afraid of anything—no, sir, there was nothing to be afraid of! Except maybe having to prepare a challenging but still balanced and reasonable curriculum. And of course reorganizing her entire schedule of daily routines to include yet another someone else’s timetable. And let’s not forget about taking full responsibility, again, for someone whose personality was only taking its shape. She could picture it, but at the same time it was all so new, unfamiliar, uncharted, unknown, and unlikely to succeed. If she didn’t hate it, she sure was frowning meaningfully at the concept. Considering the above: she felt kinda ready for this. “I guess it was alright,” Silver Spoon said. “It wasn’t a night to remember, but it wasn’t terrible either. We went bowling. He’s a bit of a bowling freak, so I’d say he’d planned to go to a place in which he’d have the high ground, so to speak.” “Indeed,” Twilight murmured back, her thoughts elsewhere. “I don’t even like bowling that much, but okay—I can respect that. Everyone’s have their share of weird hobbies, myself included, so it’s definitely not a deal-breaker. Especially since he’s a solid eight. I mean, what a dreamboat!” “Mhm.” Silver Spoon eyed her inquisitively. “Also, Princess, since Discord is dropping by tomorrow, do you want me to turn the furniture upside down or will the simple banner swap for honey-soaked streamers suffice?” “By all means, please see to it.” Twilight bit her tongue one mindless response too late. Discord was on vacation with the Pies, probably not even on this earth if him saying he’d take young Cotton Candy’s wish for an otherworldly trip to the heart was anything to go by. According to Pinkie Pie, all reservation were on him as well, so he couldn’t be possibly dropping by until at least after next week, which assuming that Silver Spoon was not terrible at her job meant Twilight had just spaced out. Double-check—she looked around, wondering how did she find herself inside the Royal Castle already. The last thing she remembered clearly was getting into the carriage, removing her beautiful, barely acceptable boots, and drifting away. Case closed. She turned to Silver Spoon with an apologetic smile, glad that at least one of them was paying attention. “I’m sorry, captain. I must have been only half-listening,” Twilight admitted. “You were telling me about your date. With Strike, was it? How did it go?” The mare looked away. “Oh, you know. Nothing worth mentioning.” “I take it there won’t be another with that gentlecolt?” “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s complicated,” she replied and gave her most melancholic sigh. “Is the search for your one true love supposed to be that difficult?” Twilight aged momentarily. Though she had that particular stage of life already behind her, she didn’t feel competent enough to guide anyone through it. Where’s Cadance and her expert supportive attitude when you needed it? “The pursuit of love is like a journey to a place about which you’ve only heard, but have never seen,” she said. “About which everyone asks, but no one gives real answers. It is a journey of heart on which you head out alone, but nonetheless together with dozens of others seeking for the same. Sooner or later, you cross paths with them and discover that some have similar expectations regarding your destination, so you travel along. Sometimes you go astray, but then you find out that someone else has gone your way too. And when you are lost together, it is when you find each other.” She smiled to herself. “In the end, love is just the matter of bumping into the right pony one too many times.” “Statistics. Great. So helpful,” Silver Spoon retorted, then groaned. “My apologies, Princess, it’s how I cope. I can tell you have enough on your head, you shouldn’t have to bother yourself with the love life of a guard. Sorry.” “How about I bother myself with the life of a friend?” Silver Spoon’s pace became unsure, sluggish, until they both stopped. Twilight put her hoof on the other mare’s armored shoulder. “It has been over a year since you were assigned to me, Silver. I am proud to have you as the captain of my guard, but I would be honored if you considered me your friend. If there is anything you’ll ever wish to talk about, even if it’s not related to my safety but to your well-being instead, do let me know.” She leaned in with a smirk. “Just make sure I’m all ears first, if you will.” “Thank you, Princess. I-I appreciate that.” Twilight took a step back into her utmost royal stance, giving Silver Spoon space to regain her composure. “Now—captain—if you would be ever so kind and help me dress up.” “You mean, right now?” Silver Spoon grabbed the suitcase off her back. “There’s still another corridor before we get there, Princess.” “So there is, but this is an official visit. Whether I like it or not, and for the record I don’t, they are the part of my ensemble, not only proper but also required for the occasion. I have to wear them and I will do so proudly.” Twilight put the hoof boots on. Surprisingly, they were not terrible in touch. Silver Spoon must have secretly tinkered with them, maybe asked a local blacksmith to make the inner part smoother. They were still a pain, but at least not unbearable. “Speaking of friends and relationships,” Twilight said as they set off, “how’s Diamond Tiara faring these days?” “Better now. She took it hard when her marriage went to shreds, but I think she’s worked it through. Lately she’s been travelling a lot, checking if the museums and amusement parks are in a good shape. She sometimes stays longer and part-times as a tour guide not taking a single bit for it.” “She volunteers?” “Well, you know. They say that the Marelin Amusement Group is what defines today’s entertainment, and as the member of the board DT’s probably fine. I think she’s just really into history and culture. Wouldn’t tell—back at school she surely wasn’t.” Upon reaching the large, double doors, the mares were greeted by a Royal Guard unicorn of a shapely, bearded chin and a deep voice. “Princess Twilight Sparkle. You are expected,” he announced, but his eyes quickly escaped towards Silver Spoon. Instead of opening the doors as he was supposed to do, he glanced at her, did a double take, then smiled broadly, albeit with a dose of uncertainty. “Warframes?” Silver Spoon beamed and laughed. “Wave! Back from Yakyakistan, I see?” “You see what you see, but what I see? Congratulations on hitting the rank-up!” “Yeah, technically you should be saluting me right now,” she chuckled, to which the stallion straightened up like a string. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, may I present Lieutenant Wave Heart, the finest warder I know.” “I am pleased to meet you, lieutenant,” Twilight replied, and when he took a deep bow to her outstretched hoof, she mouthed towards the other mare, “ ‘Warframes’?” Silver Spoon’s cheeks reddened. “That’s how they used to call me back at the Academy.” She upped her glasses. “They once asked me what would I do if the lenses fell off in the heat of battle. I replied I’d still see the bad guys well enough to strangle them with just the frames. So then they nicknamed me and made me the hero of impossible, made-up war stories. We shared a couple of laughs and in the end the name stuck. Fun times.” Twilight felt bad for not knowing that detail. “I see,” she replied. “Well, captain, lieutenant, I believe the Princess and I will be more than safe beyond these doors. You two can take a few minutes off if you so desire.” Wave Heart shook his head. “You are most kind, Princess, but the protocol clearly stands that the royal chambers cannot be left unguarded at any time.” He looked around. “If only—oh, I’ve got it—Warframes, quick, do your snooty face!” he said and beckoned at a bulky guardspony who popped up from a nearby corridor. “Hey, hey, buddy! I need to step off for a moment. The change is in twenty, fill it up for me until then, alright?” “Aw, but I have just finished my gate shift!” “Fifteen. I’ll tell the swap to come early,” he said, but the other stallion didn’t seem convinced. “Uh, listen, the captain here—who is in a pretty big hurry and also outranks you and me combined, mind you—has requested my immediate report on, uhm, the tactical situation in Yakyakistan. I have to get some files from the post, so I need a replacement. Technically I could issue an order, but I’d rather take a volunteer.” Trapped between the cold and pleading stares of his superiors, the guard had no choice. Wave Heart gave him a punch. “Awesome, you’re the best, I owe you one. What’s your name again?” “Private Root Primer, sir,” he replied and proudly clanged his breastplate. “Are you a gardener, private?” Silver Spoon asked. “Not anymore, ma’am! But fighting crime is much like fighting weeds. You have to root it out!” he said, profoundly amused with his own joke. He watched Silver Spoon and Wave Heart trotting down the corridor with a smirk on his muzzle, but once he turned around and faced with the waiting Twilight, he became dead serious. “Oh, the doors, right!” He bowed. “Princess.” Twilight took a sharp breath. Silver Spoon was her friend. Wave Heart was Silver Spoon’s friend. The two would likely befriend the guard who closed the door behind her. There was friendship all around Equestria, so why was it so difficult to think of the pony before her as a friend? “Princess,” she greeted her mentor. Princess Celestia put away the magazine she was reading—the latest issue of Cosmare, of all things—and gave the other mare a heartfelt hug. “Twilight, my first and only name is Celestia. How many times will I have to remind you of that?” “At least once more, Princess,” Twilight replied and walked to a fiery bird seated on a golden perch. “Hello, Philomena.” She petted the phoenix who squawked happily in response. “Of course I mean no disrespect by keeping to the conventionalities despite your earlier wish. Wishes,” she added, realizing that the topic had been surfacing once every year on average since her mid-twenties. “It’s not something to get over with, either, although you’d think it would be so. I guess… I like when everything around me has its place. B-but that’s not to say I want to put you in any specific place, that’s not what I meant.” She sighed and smirked before giving the response she had received earlier. “My apologies, Princess, it’s how I cope.” Princess Celestia patiently heard her through her rambling. “You do seem a little tense. Perhaps something warming will help if you’re interested?” she said and invited Twilight to a short table which had a proper tea set already prepared. “That would be lovely, thank you.” “This blend I have received quite recently. The Equestrian Marine Biology Association dried one of the seaside plants growing near Halcyon Bay called the wreathgrass and mixed it with your regular green tea.” “Wreathgrass? I’ve never heard of it.” The teapot hovered in Princess Celestia’s magical grasp, pouring the steaming liquid into the cups standing on a silver plate. “It does not surprise me. I signed the official naming decree only this morning.” “So… is this wreathgrass any good? Does it taste like sea?” “See for yourself.” Princess Celestia put the teapot away and looked into two equally filled cups. “Oh, silly me, I forgot about the filter. Would you prefer the one with less or more dregs?” “It doesn’t really matter as long as they stay down. More please,” she said and reached for the cup, but the alicorn raised her hoof. “Please, allow me to play your host today. You should know that the wreathgrass tea is a bit bitter on itself. I highly recommend sweetening it first. White, brown, or crystal?” “Brown is fine, thank you.” “Loose or cubed?” “Loose,” Twilight replied, by now really enticed by the divine aroma tickling her nostrils. “One flat teaspoon, thank you.” Princess Celestia complied with Twilight’s every wish and added one flat teaspoon of brown sugar into a cup that had more dregs sinking into the pale yellow-green depths. She moved the plate closer to her. Finally, Twilight was but a touch of a tongue away from tasting the warm goodness. She knew that the other alicorn was, to put it lightly, the most ardent fan of tea in Equestria, but making the ritual-scale ceremony out of serving it was—again, to put it lightly—a pretty darn overkill. “Biscuit?” Princess Celestia asked. Twilight was glad she hadn’t already picked up the cup, because else she would threw it at the nearest wall. Princess Celestia was testing her! She was intentionally trying out her patience, asking questions that didn’t matter in the long run and were only putting the essence of the experience further away. Was she counting on Twilight to slip now, after all those years of being ever vigilant in her presence? She should know better than to expect her most faithful student to burst into flames like some filly. “Don’t mind if I do,” Twilight replied with a smile and grabbed the treat, but put it down in favor of taking her first sip. It was terrible. Insipid. It was absolutely, abhorrently undrinkable. Yet Princess Celestia didn’t seem to mind. Was that a practical joke or a challenge to overcome? “How do you like it?” she asked. “It’s definitely something original, though I’m not sure I would still call it a tea, but perhaps we’d have to discern teas from other hot beverages first.” Princess Celestia took another sip, so Twilight mirrored her move. Ugh. The bitterness of wreathgrass was beyond anything she had ever tasted. It was a disgrace to the entire family of teas. “The aftertaste is quite refreshing, wouldn’t you say?” As far as swallowing a balsam pear wrapped in nettles and dandelions was, indeed. Twilight put the cup away as changing the topic was her only chance of survival. “Princess, I was meaning to ask you something. I understand that another opportunity arises in the east, in the Griffon Kingdom, to spread Equestria’s influence. And I mean the regular influence this time.” “Indeed.” Princess Celestia took another sip without a slightest wince and put the cup away as well. She helped herself to a biscuit. “Our standings with the Kingdom have never been better. We are lucky that King Gostiel stayed open-minded to our message despite the opinion of some of his High Talons. Obviously he will need time to wrap up certain matters after his late predecessor, but I expect an official invitation from him in a few months,” she said. “Just like around Queen Chrysalis, I want you to represent Equestria, but like you said, through regular means this time. The art of diplomacy is not flawless, but it should suffice in this case.” “When I go, I think it will be an excellent learning opportunity. I was thinking… perhaps it could be the opportunity for someone else besides myself.” “Do you mean Starburst, perhaps?” Twilight laughed. “Gosh, no! She has her hooves full with the second grade. Do you know how much homework she’s getting? I wasn’t getting that much, and you know I was participating in all extra credits. On top of that, we asked Rainbow Dash for some extra flying lessons for her, and she’s also going through a phase of being really into the Royal Guard and all things related. I think she has enough teachers to need another one.” “Someone else, then?” “Yes, the thing is… When you first decided to take a student in magic, how did you know that you were ready? How do you know that the time is now, that you’ve accrued enough knowledge, skills and competences that you can start passing them onto others? What would constitute a good student for someone like me? What if I choose one but my choice turns out wrong? What if I won’t be a good enough mentor for someone entrusting me with their education and pretty much their future as well?” Princess Celestia didn’t respond immediately. “Are you enjoying your tea?” “Yes, Princess, it’s wonderful, but that’s not what I—” “Know that you will do me no disrespect if you say what you really think. Quite the opposite, I would very much appreciate your honesty on the matter.” Twilight did not roll her eyes only because she knew it would be impolite. To fight off the urge, however, she went through a hailstorm of internal twitches and spasms. She breathed out the tension slowly. “Frankly, it tastes terrible and I consider issuing an edict to ban it around Ponyville. Its only redeeming quality is the aroma, but one could also call it false advertising.” Princess Celestia took another large sip, held it in her mouth, tasted it in its entirety, then swallowed it. Wincing, she stuck out her tongue in a particularly undignified manner. “Bleh. It really is unappealing, is it not?” she said and chuckled lightly at her student’s surprised face. “Yes, I suspected you wouldn’t like it. There are few ponies who would. But you have made a brave choice of tasting it even though you could as well decline my invitation and go straight to the matters troubling you. You’ve also made a few minor choices, like which cup would you take or how much sugar would you add.” “It doesn’t matter how much crystal sugar I would toss in, it’s the wreathgrass that’s killing it.” “But the scent was inviting, was it not?” Princess Celestia replied. “You never know the taste before you try, much like you never know if the consequences of your choices will be good. A teacher may choose a student who’s promising in every aspect, but that doesn’t mean one will not fail the other. You say the amount of sugar doesn’t matter—yes, and all those questions I’ve asked you couldn’t possibly change the flavor, but they did hold you from experiencing it. And right now, it is only you who is standing between you and your student.” Twilight looked into her cup. It indeed looked better than it tasted. “So you’re saying that I should stop asking questions whether I’m ready or not and just go for it?” Princess Celestia smiled. “You are ready, Twilight. You have always been. You only have to take this first step, make the choice, and work your way from there.” “I hope you’re right,” Twilight said, still unsure. As she wondered how on earth was her mentor putting the ‘tea’ back in ‘teaching’ so easily, she realized something funny. “There is a flaw in your logic. Respectfully.” “Oh? Is that so?” “Yes! The moment I realized the taste I wanted to throw it away. Following your metaphor, I can as well give up on my student at the first sign of trouble.” “And bereave yourself of all the wonderful things you two can achieve together once you’re past the worst?” Princess Celestia replied. “Wreathgrass has wonderful warming and relaxing capabilities, but it takes time. I advise patience, now and in the future alike. Give it a few minutes now, and remember to give enough in the future.” Twilight shoved another biscuit into her mouth. All that philosophizing was making her hungry. “But how do I do that? How do I find my student?” “I believe that schools are the institutions in which you will find the most. May I recommend starting with the SGI? There are many young and talented spellcasters there, some of whom I had the pleasure of acquainting.” “That’s still over a hundred candidates to choose from. Logically, I should consider only the most talented ones, the most hard-working and those with the greatest potential. But grades measure none of that.” “You want to be fair in your judgment, it is commendable. I propose a solution that will bring the best out of them while not necessarily forcing them to impress us with their academic prowess. I propose a competition.” “Like the Moonstone Cup?” “Goodness, no. The Moonstone Cup is a dangerous event on a much greater scale and in all of the SGI’s history there has been maybe a handful students who would survive the preliminaries, let alone compete. I am thinking of something smaller, but grand in its own right, here in Canterlot. After all, choosing a student for the Twilight Sparkle calls for flair, wouldn’t you agree?” Princess Celestia said, to which Twilight grinned vainly. “There has been a certain tradition at our school, a talent show, so to speak. It’s called the Capricious Comet Contest.” Twilight nodded. “I read about it in old yearbooks. When I was younger, I really wanted to participate. Why was it discontinued?” Princess Celestia’s stare became distant. She left the table and walked around the chamber. “I was reluctant at first, but Luna convinced me that it is time to reanimate that tradition. A lot of good things have come out of it in the past.” It didn’t take perfect cognition to notice that Princess Celestia wasn’t answering Twilight’s question, but the mare didn’t push it. She had known her mentor long enough to know that if she wasn’t telling something, she either didn’t want to talk about it, or the time for discussing it had not yet come. Nevertheless, she couldn’t hide her more pony side—the side that was seemingly carrying a burden—but Twilight was glad it was still visible. Seeing the leader of all ponies being and feeling like one of them was making her that much relatable. With her expression full of mirthful serenity, Princess Celestia leaned in over Philomena and let her nuzzle against her cheek. “I expect to be occupied with certain elementary issues in the coming months,” she said. “This is why I would like you to oversee the preparations for the contest.” “I see where you’re going with this,” Twilight replied. “You want to set up a competition and have me accept the winner as my protégé. That’s what this is about, right?” “No. I wish you to be as close as possible to the participants so you could take your time to consider them.” Princess Celestia giggled. “Though I admit, announcing the reward in form of your tutelage would be most amusing.” Twilight snorted and joined in petting the phoenix. Philomena yawped happily, flattered by the attention she was getting. “Amusing, maybe,” the mare said, “but it could as well cause some candidates to resign right off the bat. I imagine not everyone would be thrilled to spend their time with me personally. I may be the Princess of Friendship, but that doesn’t mean I can or will get along with whoever I meet. It took me some time to realize, but friendship isn’t always the best of ways. Sometimes it takes love. Sometimes it calls for being just colleagues, coworkers sharing a mutual goal.” “Indeed. Equestria may have been founded upon friendship, but it was no friendship that began it all. It was merely a choice to seek out better life.” Twilight walked to the window feeling wonderfully warmed and relaxed all of a sudden. She stared at the straight line of hustle and bustle cutting through the afternoon cityscape. Somewhere out there, there was someone with incredible potential only waiting for her guidance, something she both could and would provide with all her heart and soul. If her teacher was saying that she was ready and—logically—a teacher was wiser than a student, then she, as a student, should accept Princess Celestia’s judgment. If she believed in her, then perhaps Twilight would be wise to show a little faith herself. She was most certainly ready for this. “I will personally oversee the preparations to the next Capricious Comet Contest, and while I’m on that”—she paused, pondered a while longer, then ultimately nodded to seal the deal—“I will find myself a student.”