After two weeks Cadenza must have caught on, judging by the sounds from the stairway—or rather, the lack of them. There was no knock at the office door, no subsequent opening of said door, no call for “Principal Cinch!”, not even any muttering. Right away, Cadenza passed the top floor that housed the principal’s office and went up the side stairway. It led to the usually locked door to the roof of Crystal Prep Academy.
This door’s lock was replaced after the old one had completely rusted. These days, though, someone had been to the roof almost every morning of the school week. That someone was Principal Abacus Cinch.
Cadenza, too, learned to climb up here if she needed to see the principal this early in the morning. She never complained about the extra flight of stairs—she probably thought Cinch’s repeated ritualistic relocations were a sign of some positive development brought upon by her recent visit to the other world.
Or maybe it was an excuse for some exercise—to help keep her figure. It did seem that she had someone to impress: Cinch would often see Cadenza on her off hours smiling giddily over her phone. Whatever the case, her coming up to join Cinch on the roof meant that she had something important to say.
Before the dean could utter a greeting, Cinch turned away from her view over the jagged railing—at the back side of the school, so as not to loom over the entrance as all the students filed inside—and said her usual cold but polite hello.
“Good morning, Principal Cinch,” Cadenza said. “There’s something I think you would want to look at.” Cinch eyed the folder she held in her hand. “It’s not that, actually, but that’s for your attention as well. Maybe we could look at it all in the office?”
“Of course.” Her arms behind her back, Cinch headed to the roof access stairway. She made sure to lock the door after Cadenza passed through, even though she trusted her students not to wander onto the roof and somehow fall off. Such were the regulations.
The women entered the dimly lit office and assumed the usual conversing position—Cinch behind the desk, Cadenza standing in front. Only then Cadenza put the folder down and explained that it contained three applications the school had received during the weekend.
Cinch was mildly surprised by that.
“They must think highly of themselves if they believe we would accept new students mid-term,” she said. “Or they’re simply ignorant. I assume you have checked the applications already, Cadance?”
Cadenza nodded. “They seem to be in order. I decided not to make that decision for you seeing how the situation in the school is still somewhat… delicate.”
‘Delicate’ was the right word.
Most students were content continuing their education with no complaints, but Cinch had noticed the occasional Crystal Prepper together with someone from CHS—outside of school, of course.
She was wary of what long-term effects this mixing would have. Something still needed to be done to stave off their culture of excuses and slacking. A strict and demanding curriculum may not be enough anymore.
More importantly, although Cadenza had managed to negotiate the nullification of the Friendship Games tie (that Principal Celestia had proclaimed as soon as Cinch had left the premises that evening), the news of a ‘series of mishaps’ and the subsequent cancellation of the Games made people pay closer attention to both schools.
“Indeed. Accepting three new students in the middle of the year could be a costly mistake with all the eyes on us.” Cinch took the folder and tapped it on the desk, even though no papers were out of place. “I shall look into these and arrange an interview if I find the applications satisfactory. I trust that you can discern whether they can handle our curriculum and our discipline.”
“I understand,” said Cadenza, once again nodding. “The second thing I thought you'd want to see is an article posted online. By one of our students, actually.”
Cinch raised an eyebrow. “Why should I care about what our students do on the internet in their free time?”
“It might actually be important, Principal Cinch. Young people have quite a voice these days thanks to social media.” Cadenza made a vague motion with her arm that Cinch could not even begin to interpret. ”It’s not just their parents that we want to appeal to as a school anymore. Prospective students can form strong opinions from what they read online.”
“I see.” Cinch proceeded to open a drawer and take out a laptop, something she had recently purchased. She set it out and powered it on.
Cadenza reached for the laptop. “May I?”
“By all means,” Cinch said and turned the laptop to her. Cadenza leaned down, took a torn sheet of paper out of her breast pocket and typed the address into the computer.
“Here,” Cadenza said as she pushed the laptop back. “This is a blog post. In essence, a cross between a newspaper article and a diary entry. Anyone can read it, though, and lots of people read what Trenderhoof posts.”
Cinch recognized the name. Trenderhoof. Participant in the Friendship Games, disqualified in the first round. Romantic. Somewhat meek but can talk passionately about things he considers important. Loves new experiences, but only if he can share them with others afterwards. Travels around the world at any opportunity (with his parents’ money). Aspires to be a journalist.
“He visited Canterlot High at some point after the Friendship Games,” Cadenza continued. “Seems like he wanted to immerse himself in the CHS environment and see how it differs from ours. That’s pretty much what the article's about.”
Cinch skimmed through the text.
Crystal Prep, get with the times!
The article started with cheap and unabashed rhetoric, possibly the weakest that Cinch had seen in recent memory. A photo of Crystal Prep under a glum overcast sky next to a photo of Canterlot High’s front yard glowing in the afternoon sun, smiling students walking by.
No rational reader would fall for this obvious juxtaposition, but Cinch knew perfectly well that even that was too much to ask for.
If I were to pick one word that comes to mind when I look at the students of Canterlot High, it would be “happy”.
The text went on and on like that. Trenderhoof sang praises to the lackadaisical attitude that dominated the halls and classrooms of CHS.
Of course, a prospective student and someone like Cinch would likely draw different conclusions from this narrative. The former would be attracted to an easy school life. To Cinch, however, the described behavior seemed unnervingly unnatural, which was perhaps not too far from the truth, considering what stood right in front of Canterlot High.
Magic... Magic originating from a parallel world seeped out of that portal.
Cinch had no concern for the way those horses on the other side dealt with it, but allowing it to spread through the real world was simply unacceptable. The signs already showed—Canterlot High was slowly turning into a miniature version of the equine dimension.
Cinch had a suspicion that its graduates would fare about as well in the real world as one of those horses.
I approached a recent transfer to CHS, one Twilight Sparkle. Once the top student at Crystal Prep, she had decided that a more social and welcoming environment might be better suited to her for the rest of her education.
There was a short interview with Cinch’s former star student. Twilight was made to sound positively enchanted by the fact that people wanted to talk to her and ‘be her friends’. Of course, what was left out was that those people only wanted her to do their homework.
Then again, that would’ve been the case in a normal school, not CHS.
Thankfully, any mention of the disastrous Friendship Games was omitted. From Cadenza’s description, an article like this was precisely the sort of platform where a student’s claims of how evil the principal was would have been taken seriously. Perhaps Trenderhoof had some sense after all...
Canterlot High realizes that the best work is done when the people working are happy. It creates a friendly space that does not wear one’s very soul down to the bone. Bashing our hands with rulers and piling up so much grindwork that we don’t have free time between school and sleep is not in style anymore, Crystal Prep. Maybe you should learn from the ones that have moved ahead of you.
...Then again, maybe not.
Cinch closed the laptop and looked at Cadenza. “I assume this has already been read by our students?”
Cadenza nodded. “I’ve heard many of them talking about it. It seems to have made quite an impression.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, originally only a few students changed their attitudes,” the dean said. “The ones who had a certain... bonding experience near the Friendship Games’ end.”
“The Shadowbolts,” Cinch said with a nod. “Understandable.”
“They stuck together after that,” continued Cadenza, “and I think they made friends with the Canterlot High finalists as well.”
Cinch nodded again, slower.
“Now that almost the entire school has read this article, everyone’s thinking about its message.” Cinch’s lips formed a small snarl, but Cadenza didn’t seem to notice. “It really inspired them, Principal Cinch. Now everyone’s making friends.” She grinned. “With each other and the CHS students as well. They talk in the hallways between classes. People actually smile, which, I don’t know if you noticed, was not very common before.”
“I would expect such an article to provoke envy,” said Cinch. “It does a rather thorough job of minimizing our accomplishments and glorifying things that a school is not meant to provide in the first place.”
“School is almost like a second home to people, Principal Cinch.” Cadenza tilted her head. ”It’s only natural to try to form bonds here.”
“Is it now?” Cinch stood up. “All of my years in Crystal Prep indicate otherwise.” She slowly walked to the window. “Even you’ve worked here long enough to know that everyone here functioned perfectly fine before. Grades have always been high across the board. People coming out of Crystal Prep became successful.” Cinch opened the blinds and looked outside. “Canterlot is polluting their minds.”
Having sent Cadenza off to summon Trenderhoof—as soon as the current class finished—Cinch phoned Principal Celestia. Plans were brewing in her head and they required Trenderhoof to be allowed to visit Canterlot High and publish his observations. Cinch was not certain Trenderhoof would agree to her proposal, but she did not want his excursions to seem suspicious to the CHS principal if he did.
Cinch managed to sound convincingly forthcoming and sincere to Celestia, who approved the plan without hesitation, but not before suggesting they talk in person sometime soon. To that Cinch had to reluctantly agree with the promise of arranging it when she had the time (coming from Celestia, “sometime soon” meant “delay as much as you want”).
Now all she had to do was present her offer to Trenderhoof in the... correct light.
While she waited, Cinch decided to look over the applications that Cadenza had left on her desk. She picked them up, came to the window, turned her back to it and started looking through the papers. The light was softer than the lamps’.
Three applications. Three girls. A lot in common, possibly applied together as a group. Seemed to meet all the requirements. No real families though, one legal guardian listed for all three of them.
Meaning they were probably not related to someone important, and thus declining these applications wouldn’t make any new enemies.
Accepting them, on the other hand, could have quite a diverse range of unfortunate consequences. They could underperform and spoil the school’s academic record. Or they could distract other students with their sudden appearance and potentially unusual behavior.
Cadenza’s hypothetical approval was not a guarantee that the girls would be fit for Crystal Prep, after all. She was too kind sometimes.
Cinch decided not to take the risk. She tossed the papers back on her desk and turned to the window, looking outside once more, then opened it and propped her arms on the windowsill.
The fact that she had just decided to deny top level education to three young women based on a collection of pure hypotheticals didn’t escape Cinch, but she struggled to doubt her decision.
She looked down on the street, at the people walking and driving. It was still early in the morning, so there were not that many. Even so, the city already looked like the hive of activity that it was.
Most of the people out there had not graduated Crystal Prep and they were perfectly fine. Busy with their lives, having purpose and somewhere to be. And Cinch could say with certainty that if there was something her school wasn’t, it was anybody’s last choice. These Sonata, Aria and Adagio would simply have to pick another school, one that could afford to accept them.
As Cinch idly observed the city life, several knocks came from the door. She sighed, closed the window and took her seat. The city noise must’ve drowned out the school bell. Cinch opened the laptop with Trenderhoof’s article still on the screen.
“Come in.”
The door opened and instead of Trenderhoof, in walked Twilight Sparkle’s older brother and Crystal Prep alumnus, Shining Armor. Cinch hadn’t seen him since he and Cadenza fetched her contact sheet for Everton. The dean had brought her the sheet, of course, but Armor, his brotherly encouragement duties completed, hadn’t had a reason to come back.
So what did he want now?
“Hello, Principal Cinch,” he said, approaching the middle of her office and awkwardly stopping there. Despite his uncertain mannerisms, his tone was stoic and serious.
“Cadance told me about that one student’s article. The one she had shown you today.”
Cadenza talked to Armor outside of work? Well, this shed light on one more mystery Cinch hadn’t cared about.
“I know what prompted your decision to get Twilight to participate in the Friendship Games, Principal Cinch,” Armor said in a mildly accusatory tone. “Canterlot High’s growing reputation. You thought it was a threat and you stooped to blackmail!”
Principal Cinch kept a neutral expression on her face. She wondered, however, why Shining Armor only now decided to confront her about this matter. He was incredibly defensive of his little sister and he certainly had a reason to be angry. Had Twilight not told him until yesterday, perhaps? Surely Cadenza would have.
“Twilight said that it was no big deal, but I saw how shaken she was after the games. And now there’s another reason for you to see CHS as a threat.” Shining lowered his head to glare at Cinch even more intensely. ”I want to make sure that you do not do anything against that school now that Twilight’s there. I’ll report your blackmailing if I have to, even if Twilight asked me not to.”
“Shining Armor. Why would I deliberately seek to damage Canterlot High’s reputation? I’ve only ever sought to curb its rise. I never wish harm, however indirect, to come to any student,” Cinch said calmly.
“And what do you call what you did to Twilight?” Armor raised his arm. “My poor sister suffered abuse for an entire day at those games!”
“I seem to recall you being here in the office, encouraging her to participate in the games too, Shining Armor.” Cinch took some papers on her desk and shuffled them. The school bell rang. “And if you think the games were the only thing weighing down on her, you are tragically uninformed. That little experiment she had insisted on conducting—instead of preparing for the games, I might add—unleashed utter havoc, and the CHS students screaming at her for it affected her much more than anything I did.”
Not even bothering to look at her accuser, Cinch took the now neatly stacked papers and put them in a drawer. Only after that did she raise her eyes to meet Shining Armor’s again.
”Perhaps her miserable performance in the archery event was my fault? Perhaps her general inability to handle any kind of pressure is my fault? Perhaps I forced you to encourage her to participate in the games even though you, as her brother, should have been able to foresee how she would handle it?”
Shining Armor’s expression darkened, but before he could let his emotions get the better of him, he was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by Trenderhoof poking his head inside. When the student saw that Cinch wasn’t alone, he immediately ducked out with a muttered apology.
Cinch locked her hands and leaned back into the chair.
“Now, preparing Twilight for adult life is not my concern anymore. Canterlot High will have to teach her discipline. But I can assure you, Shining Armor, that I have no ill intentions towards any student, mine or otherwise.” Cinch sighed. “My only goal is to keep Crystal Prep ahead of every other school. If someone starts, shall we say, gaining on us… it is my task to make sure we establish ourselves as unmistakably superior.”
Shining Armor looked like he was about to protest, but Cinch cut him off.
“The author of the article is waiting outside.” She waved her hand at the door. ”As soon as you leave, I will be arranging for him to write even more, so that we may learn of Canterlot High’s successes... and beat them at everything they excel at. Nothing more will come from this.”
Shining Armor did not look entirely placated with her explanation, but Cinch hadn’t really been aiming for that.
“So, you see, there is no reason to be concerned for Twilight.” Cinch allowed a shadow of a smirk to fall on her face. “What you ought to be concerned about is how your constant interactions with Dean Cadance may be affecting her job performance. You wouldn’t want to hamper her efficiency, would you? We both want her to keep her job.” Her voice turned frigid. ”Now, if you don’t mind, I have to see Trenderhoof before the next class starts.”
The young man furrowed his brow.
“Alright, Principal Cinch,” he said through his teeth. “My little sister’s finally becoming happy. You better hope nothing you do ruins that, or I won’t be put off by your threats. I’m sure Cadance will understand.” With that, Shining Armor turned around and left.
“Children, all of them,” muttered Cinch to herself as the alumnus stomped away, still visible through the door he hadn’t bothered to close behind him.
She had told him the truth. Part of it, at the very least. She did, indeed, harbor no ill will towards CHS and its students. If anything, she was going to do them a big favor in the near future.
Trenderhoof leaned into the doorway once again.
“Um, you wanted to see me, Principal Cinch?”
“Indeed,” Cinch said. “Come in.”
The young man glanced at Cinch’s open laptop. He held his breath for a few seconds before looking back at the principal.
“Mister Trenderhoof, it has come to my attention that you have written a particular article recently,” said Cinch in a deliberately colder than usual tone. It seemed to work as Trenderhoof slowly nodded with a strained gulp.
“Do not worry, you are not in trouble. It is, for the most part, a fair article.” Trenderhoof’s expression turned to one of slight disbelief. “However, I find your direct comparison between Crystal Prep and CHS to be… counterproductive. This is not how one goes about pushing for improvement. And I have done quite a lot of that, so I speak from experience.” Cinch slowly closed the laptop in front of her. “Unfavorable comparisons do not encourage, they annoy people and push them into denial.”
Trenderhoof still didn’t have anything to say. It was clear his article had not been intended for the principal’s eyes, and the boy was uncomfortable with her having read it. He moved his jaw as if he wanted to explain or defend himself but could not find the courage.
“Tell me something, mister Trenderhoof.”
Trenderhoof held his breath.
“Do you, personally, feel that in terms of education Canterlot High measures up to Crystal Prep?” Cinch locked her hands. “And be honest. Never be afraid to offer criticism.”
“Well, um... I can’t really say.” Trenderhoof’s voice trembled a little. “It’s not like I attended any of their classes. I didn’t even visit the school. I just talked to people.”
“I’m not asking for a report,” Cinch said. “In your head you obviously have quite the finished picture of CHS—just from talking to the students. You can make a... somewhat educated guess.”
“I haven’t really thought about that, Principal Cinch.” Trenderhoof tapped his chin. “Nobody complained about their education, I can say that.”
Cinch smirked. “Precisely.”
“What do you mean, Principal Cinch?”
“Unless young people changed when I wasn’t looking,” Cinch said, “our students probably do complain. Or they would if asked by a third party.” She waved her hand. ”Yet our school is widely acclaimed as the best learning institution in the city.”
Trenderhoof slowly nodded.
“Do you understand where I am going with this?” Cinch continued. “If they do not complain, it means their school isn’t pushing them, isn’t challenging them.”
“Many people I talked to did remark that attending Canterlot High was... pleasant.” The boy finally relaxed, so Cinch decided to make a push.
“With all this in mind, I have a proposal for you, Trenderhoof.”
The boy tilted his head. “What kind of proposal?”
“As I said, direct comparisons between our schools are counterproductive,” Cinch said. “It makes our school look worse for those who don’t understand what makes a reputable school.”
Trenderhoof looked at the floor.
“However, simply providing positive examples has the opposite effect, inspiring people to do better,” the principal continued. “You want what is best for Crystal Prep, do you not?”
“O-of course!” The boy nodded hurriedly.
“Then, should you agree to my proposal, I would have you periodically visit CHS and gather information on their methods, practices and so on. It would be beneficial for all, Crystal Prep included, if Canterlot High’s successes were properly explored and documented in a way that we can learn from.”
Trenderhoof raised his finger but Cinch knew what he was going to ask.
“I have already confirmed it with Principal Celestia,”—the boy raised an eyebrow—”so you will have unrestricted access to Canterlot High’s grounds, and you will be able to report on what they do right—and how they do it.”
The boy’s downcast eyes darted around for a second, then his brow furrowed and he looked at Cinch.
“I will have to think about it,” he said.
Cinch raised her eyebrow. “What possible reason can you have to decline?”
“You asked me to be honest earlier, Principal Cinch, so I will be.” Trenderhoof balled his hands into fists. He was slightly trembling, but the boy’s eyes looked forward stoically. “The reason I write is because I want to give people my honest, informed opinion on things. What you’re asking...” Trenderhoof looked down for a few seconds. “What you’re asking sounds like pushing an agenda. Like telling people just what you want them to hear. I’ll have to figure it out.”
Cinch had to commend the boy. Underneath his meek mannerisms hid a sharp-minded individual. He would make a good journalist. She wished he’d forgotten his integrity at the moment, though.
“Besides,” Trenderhoof continued, “how you’ve already arranged it with their principal... I hope you forgive me for saying it, but this feels like you’ve made my decision for me before even asking. And this is just pressuring me to agree.”
As he finished his part, the boy’s resolve visibly faltered. He cast his eyes away from Cinch and put his hands in his pockets.
Cinch slowly leaned back into her chair.
“Those are reasonable worries, mister Trenderhoof.” He immediately glanced at her. “I shall not rush you. Take your time to think my proposal over. I believe you’ll agree that your ideals will not be betrayed, and the school will benefit from it.” Cinch paused for a second. “What I mean to say is, given enough interest among the students, some innovations in Crystal Prep are not out of the question. Inspire people to strive for excellence and means will be provided.” Cinch looked at the boy who stared back at her. “You may go.”
Trenderhoof nodded and left.
Cinch thought back to the worrisome revelation between the lines of Trenderhoof’s article. After speaking to Cadance she was certain that Canterlot High’s influence was rapidly spreading among her students. Whether it was due to mind-altering magic or just an alluring temptation of carefree school years, the source of all the trouble was the portal.
The principal was not going to let it undermine all the work she had put into Crystal Prep over the decades. Others would disagree with her, but she was long used to being the only one who knew what was best. No matter how malicious the act would look on the surface... If one approached the situation rationally, permanently shutting off the magical flow by destroying the portal would be nothing but a kindness.