Flavor
Notorious flirt. Rarity didn’t much appreciate the moniker, but she wore it well enough. She couldn’t be said to ever lack a kind word, or a genuine compliment, or an appreciative reply. Certainly, she found herself giving and receiving most of such with those of the masculine persuasion, but she could be forgiven her preferences. Couldn’t she?
She could, the mare lounging on a couch decided. Her horn glowed as she raised a delicate glass to her lips and took a dainty sip. The other guests at the soirée also sat on lounges in a circle around a central food platter. Fancypants, the Mayor of Canterlot, was to her right. Fleur de Lis, who was looking as thin as ever, sat to her left. A few other guests of note—the owner of Barnyard Bargains, a rich viscount from the mountainside, a few hangers-on of the same—occupied seats at random around the room. A thousand generous words floated through the mare’s head as she searched for a pony to give them to.
Then Prince Blueblood spoke up, and the mare on the lounge wished very much to not be Rarity at the moment.
“What of you, Lady Rarity? I would have thought you Element Bearers would be tracking that vicious assassin down.” The blond-maned prince’s beverage had been diluted to the tenth degree by water sometime in the last few hours. He had still somehow managed to lose what little subtlety he possessed in the first place.
The mare who regretted being Rarity sighed, brushing her purple curl out of the way of another sip of juice. “As difficult as it may be to believe, your Highness, I’m afraid I’m not the first pony the Guard looks to when recruiting adventurers.”
That earned her a general chuckle around the circle of ponies. Rarity was a beautiful mare, there could be no mistake made, but she wasn’t the most physically fit. She kept herself healthy, and that was the extent of her expedition in exercise.
The viscount munched on a cheese cracker hors d’oeuvre. “He has a point. It was only a few years ago you were featured in just about every headline as the Knight of Generosity.”
“While that may be true, Viscount”—she briefly fumbled over his name. Some sort of stringed instrument?—“Viscount Dulcimer, it sadly is not the case nowadays. Things change. While the connection between my friends remains strong, our powers cannot be said to be the cure-all, end-all for every problem that Equestria faces.”
“Surely you could do something,” Blueblood muttered into a glass of almost pure water.
“Give the mare a break, husband,” Fleur said, hissing out the last word in a thick Fancy accent. “Let the lady be and push on with the business.”
“I agree. Let’s talk about our new business venture.” Fancypants smiled. “We should be careful about asking ‘what more can you do,’ lest it be asked of us, also.”
Blueblood narrowed his eyes and spoke no more.
The mare silently thanked the two of them for forcibly removing her from the spotlight. There was a time to shine, and there was a time to pass barely noticed. She reclined more comfortably and faded into the background of the conversation. She paid the words no mind unless they were to her directly. The words weren’t why she was there.
She was there for the emotions.
There was a general excitement from most of the ponies there, mostly business owners and investors. It tasted like bubbles in the air, popping on the tip of her horn. There was a constant feeling of frustration from Blueblood as he struggled to keep up despite the fog in his brain. That tasted, no surprise, like alcohol; tart and musty. A similar, duller annoyance rose from Fleur as she beheld her husband’s antics.
But there was a subtler strain running through the gamut. A hint of an almost-flavor, contained and repressed. The mare who called herself Rarity shut her eyes tight as she tried to discern its source. It had spice. It had vigor.
“Lady Rarity?”
The mare’s eyes snapped open.
Filthy Rich of Barnyard Bargains gave off an aura of light, silky concern. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m sorry, I was just…” The mare cursed herself for neglecting to keep up appearances as she scrambled for an excuse. “I was just trying to imagine what the project would look like.” That was what artists did, she told herself, they visualized.
“That’s where my construction company comes in, Miss Rarity.” Viscount Dulcimer’s horn glowed as he lifted schematics into the air. “A four-story building is already under construction for our indoor marketplace. Once it’s done, all we need to do is move your respective stores in and rent out the rest of the space to anypony who cares to join up.”
“A marketplace, raking in the cash rain or shine. In downtown Canterlot, no less.” Blueblood smirked at Fleur. “Not a bad investment, if I do say so myself.”
Fleur shrugged. “It’s your cash to invest, husband.”
The mare faded out of the conversation, focusing once more on the emotions. This time, she was careful to at least look like she was listening.
There! The spice. The vigor. The faintest hint of ill will. The anticipation of something horribly wrong going horribly right. Again, she couldn’t immediately discern the source, but the target?
Blueblood, just as suspected. Someone wanted something very bad to happen to him. Someone was looking forward to that certain something, maybe even catalyzing the awfulness into action. But who?
Fancypants was Blueblood’s buddy from their school days, perhaps the prince’s only real friend. He put up with his antics regularly. That was the history the mare knew. On closer inspection of the stallion’s disposition, she found only the bubbling excitement of a dinner party, and a refreshing splash of interest in Viscount Dulcimer’s project.
Fleur de Lis, wife of Blueblood. The result of a marriage of convenience, some said, in which his bank roll was enriched and her status elevated. Other said it began in love, but soon soured like old milk. Either way, she harbored the most open negative feelings about the prince. But there was no spice. No edge. It wasn’t her.
Filthy Rich was awash in a sour field of self-disappointment, hidden beneath his outer wall of genial interest. The servants were focused on their duties, leaving little room for diabolical plans. The other prospective business partners were checked off one by one as the mare calling herself Rarity examined them.
Then she focused on the viscount and found the source.
She lifted her perception from the emotional layer to the visible. She saw how even in the midst of his presentation, his eyes kept flickering from the blueprint to Blueblood. The spice intensified when a third object intersected his gaze: An unopened bottle. The bottle being saved for the toast. Could it be poisoned?
“In conclusion,” Viscount Dulcimer said as the mare focused on his voice, “Prince Blueblood is correct when he says the indoor marketplace is a wise investment. Shall we drink to a successful business venture?”
The servants came and poured glasses for all those present. The mare looked into her own. Was the viscount planning to poison all of his business partners? It made no sense. The flavor of his ill will was directed only at the prince.
She turned her eyes to Dulcimer and watched him down his whole glass, a smirk on his face. Immunity was possible, but highly unlikely. It didn’t add up for him to be the only investor still alive. He would be caught instantly.
Blueblood swirled his drink around. He brought the glass to his lips.
The mild spice running from the viscount to the prince jumped from bell pepper to habanero. The hair on the back of the mare’s neck stood up. It was time to either act or watch a pony die.
She coiled her legs beneath her, leaped over the hors d’oeuvres table, and knocked the glass out of his magic grip. The room went silent as everypony stared at her.
She ducked her head and grinned. “W-would you believe me if I said it was p-poisoned?”
The door slammed open. A disheveled mare walked in, one with a pure white coat and a purple mane. Her frown was intensified by the waved of boiling anger rolling towards the mare who called herself Rarity. Worst of all, the two of them seemed to be wearing the same dress.
“That mare,” the newcomer said with an accusatory hoof, “is an imposter!”
It was at that point that the mare who called herself Rarity noticed several servants carrying hidden blades underneath their coat sleeves. She also noted that calling herself Rarity was a moot point.
The disheveled Rarity stalked towards the accused. “She drugged me with some sort of magic and left me in a closet! A broom closet! Arrest her at once!”
The servants looked at Blueblood, waiting for him to make the call. The prince’s already foggy mind had no hope of coping with the circumstances. “Um…”
“Grab her!” the viscount helpfully supplied.
The servants rushed her. With no other options in sight, the mare sprouted wings from her back and flew to the ceiling. They were thin, translucent, membranous wings. Once at the top, she flipped over and grabbed the plaster with cloven, claw-like hooves.
The real Rarity shrieked. “Dear darling Creator, it’s a changeling!”
“Kill it!” Blueblood said, some semblance of wit reentering his head. “Bring it down!”
The changeling dove down through the doors, passing by Rarity along the way. She ducked as it flew overhead, its disguise disappearing in a burst of green fire.
The servants chased after the changeling. Once they had gone, Rarity put on a smile and turned to the other businessponies in the room. “I trust the meeting went well?”
The changeling ran into a branching corridor. Once it was out of sight, it climbed up to the ceiling. The servants following it failed to look up when they rushed past. Its chest heaved while it waited a few moments before dropping down. It raced through the Blueblood wing of Canterlot Castle, searching for an out-of-the-way room to take a new face.
It was a stroke of genius to use a pony whose whole life had been recorded by the media. Plenty of openly-available history. That part of the plan went exceedingly well. That said, next time the changeling needed to take more care in making sure the pony wasn’t a light sleeper.
The clack of armor sounded throughout the castle as the general alarm was sounded. The changeling sighed in relief as a hideaway came into view: A broom closet that wasn’t the one Rarity had been napping in. Just as the changeling reached it, a shout came from the end of the hallway.
“Changeling!”
A spear hit the wall right beside the changeling. It yelped and took off at a full gallop, its wings beating and its hooves scraping the marble floor. Its multifaceted eyes widened. It was heading away from most of the escape routes it had planned out if the operation went south.
The air shimmered as a fireball zipped past.
The changeling narrowed its eyes. There was only one viable exit strategy. It turned down one corridor and jumped straight at a stained-glass window. The glass rattled as the changeling’s body collided with it, and the creature was thrown to the ground.
There wasn’t nearly enough time to craft a new face before the changeling was surrounded by spear points. “What are you waiting for?” Blueblood said from the rear. “Stab it! Don’t let it get away!”
The changeling swallowed the phlegm building up in its throat. It turned to one of the guards. “Th-the gig’s up, Bugly! They’ve g-got us!”
The guards turned as one to face “Bugly.” With their attention elsewhere, the changeling zipped out from among them like an arrow from a bow. It flew through the corridors of the castle in a mad rush, not paying much attention to where it was going.
Its journey took it to a long, thin bridge between two towers, a skyway. At one end, two unicorn guards and a pegasus were barring the way. The changeling was flying so fast that it didn’t come to a stop until it was in the middle of the skyway. A quick glance said that yes, the glass enclosing the bridge was thicker here than at the stained-glass windows.
The skyway was soon blocked off at the other end by more soldiers, backed by the prince. The changeling lowered itself to the floor and spread its forelegs wide. “I s-surrender.”
Most of the soldiers stopped their forward rush, though they kept their weapons and horns trained on the changeling. Prince Blueblood, however, didn’t get the memo. He shouldered a golden-armored guard aside and lit his horn. He fired a blast of half-focused, half-raw magic energy at the changeling, which spiraled down the skyway in a tornado of crackling lightning.
Instinct took over. The changeling leapt over the maelstrom of murderous energy, letting it glide past unhindered. It continued to the three soldiers on the other side. The leftmost unicorn’s armor glowed bright yellow as its built-in shield enchantment worked to save the guard from being torn apart by the drunken spell. Metal shrieked and hair singed as the wayward spell exploded in a ring of light and force.
The ring cut through the top and bottom of the skyway, severing it from the tower. Thanks to the designers, the bridge was supported fully by its connection to the far side, though it still wobbled in the force of the destruction. The two unicorn guards slumped to the ground as smoke billowed out of their end of the corridor, produced by melting glass, burning carpet, and the aftereffects of a crazed spell impacting a sturdy enchantment. The pegasus jumped through the smoke.
The guard’s hoof glowed, his armor’s enchantment adding an extra boost to his strength. The changeling ducked the punch, then skittered between the guard’s legs. It held its breath as it moved through the heavy smoke, seeking shelter on the far side.
It found shelter in the form of a quiet guest bedroom, long unoccupied save for a weekly cleaning. The clank of armor through the castle was slower, cautious, searching. They’d find the room soon enough, but the changeling would be gone before then.
It looked in a mirror and beheld a nightmare. A nightmare to ponies, at any rate. Black armored exoskeleton, blue-green multifaceted eyes, long fangs, a scraggy horn…
It lifted its hooves to its face. Holes bored through its forelegs. Its wings were torn and perforated. Its ears were low and scratched. It took a few steps away, its hooves close together as though it was afraid to do anything besides just inch backward. It kept its head low and its shoulders hunched.
Its horn sparked with green fire that gradually covered its entire body. When the flame extinguished, a new pony stared at the reflection. White coat, bleached blond mane, pink eyes, color-wheel cutie mark. A stallion of little merit and less fame.
He dressed himself with a coat he found discarded in the servant’s quarters. He took a pass through the kitchen, took a tray piled high with food, and walked calmly through the castle. If anypony noticed him, they quickly ignored him. The one or two guards that questioned him bought his ready story immediately, even giving him an escort should he be accosted by roaming changelings.
Or maybe they were following him to make sure his story checked out. Either way, they let him go in the end.
He delivered the food cart and headed straight for the exit. He passed by an argument near the doors, between Blueblood and Viscount Dulcimer.
“I was just attacked by a changeling in broad daylight!” the prince said. “I am in no condition to continue the meeting!”
“But—” the viscount raised a hoof as the prince thundered off, accompanied by several guards.
Dulcimer sat down beside the window the changeling had smacked into. Unlike the windows in the great hall, this did not have a scene from history inscribed on it. It was just patterns and colors.
The viscount was a sturdy, strong stallion, not quite as well-built as the prince, but close. His pink coat might have looked silly if he didn’t carry it proudly. His purple beard was fashioned into a goatee, and his mane was pulled back in a ponytail. He turned to the disguised changeling as he passed. “What do you suppose the changeling wanted?”
“B-beg pardon, yer Grace,” the changeling said, “I don’t fink I know all o’ wot’s goin’ on. Just been passin’ through when th’ alarm wus sounded.”
He hesitated a moment before carrying on. Viscount Dulcimer spoke up again. “What’s your name?”
“Bl—” The changeling cleared its throat. “Crisper, yer Grace.”
The viscount smirked. “Don’t mind me too much. I remember what it was like to be a servant. Viscount isn’t a hereditary title, after all.” He turned back to the window. “Fascinating cutie mark, by the way.”
The changeling’s eyes subconsciously went to the viscount’s cutie mark. An open fob watch. “I ’spect just ’bout every mark has somefin important be’ind it, yer Grace.”
Dulcimer went back to watching the window. “Crisper” trotted away at a polite pace, resisting the urge to dig into the emotional flavor of the air. Even a slight use of such magic might cause suspicion during a ponyhunt.
The changeling slipped out from underneath the guards’ collective nose. The street in front of the castle bustled as reporters got wind of a new story breaking. Questions were flying about whether the attempt by a changeling on Blueblood’s life was connected to the near-assassination from earlier that week.
The changeling swam through the reporters, stood on the edge of the street, and clamped onto a passing carriage. He slid in through the door and took a seat across from a middle-aged mare. “It’s D-Dulcimer, Chief,” he said. “There’s n-no evidence, but the emotions c-came from him. H-he’s the one who w-wants Blueblood dead.”
The curtains in the carriage were drawn, enclosing both occupants in shadows. The mare crossed her light-gray forelegs. “Well, at least we know who to watch.”
She sniffed the air. “Were you on fire, Blankety?”
“I’m a ch-changeling, it happens.” Blankety Blank tapped his hooves together. “S-so, my cover’s blown.”
“And how.” The Chief rubbed her eyes. “We can’t exactly let you jump right back in after that.” She brushed her purple-white striped mane out of her eyes. “What exactly happened back there?”
“M-my face pony woke up, just after I kn-knocked a cup of poison from Blueblood’s hoof.” He shrugged. “They p-put two and t-two together. I t-tried to surrender, since m-my cover was blown re-regardless, but Blueblood wasn’t taking any p-prisoners.”
“So you got out.” The Chief leaned forward and patted his shoulder. “You did good. You saved Blueblood’s life and uncovered the pony responsible.”
“I should have found some evidence, stopped him for good,” Blank said. “Now what?”
The carriage stopped. The Chief opened the door and led them into the back door of the Canterlot Police Department building. “Now we get you the heck out of here until things cool down. Until the ‘changeling attack’ becomes a fluke memory.”
A pony ran up with a folder tucked under their wing. “Twilight Velvet, Chief! Canterlot Health just reported a missing quart of ambrosia.”
Police Chief Twilight Velvet took the folder and flipped through the pages. “Timeframe?”
“Within the last couple weeks, ma’am.”
“Right next to the assassination attempt. That’s an odd coincidence if there is one.” Twilight Velvet shrugged. “Follow the thread. It might lead us to the whereabouts of this ‘Hurricane’ pony.”
Twilight motioned for Blankety to enter her office. She closed the door behind him. “I’m gonna get you out of Canterlot, but I’m not sending you far. Ponyville’s pretty quiet right now, not a whole lot of snoops around. My daughter will give you a nice place to get settled in.”
Blankety Blank nodded, shuffling from hoof to hoof.
“I recommend you treat this as a vacation, Blank,” Twilight said. She sat behind her desk and pointed him to a chair. “Any work you do might just draw attention. I’d rather not lose my best asset.”
“I-I—” Blank rubbed his short mane. “I’ve never had a v-vacation before, Chief.”
Twilight Velvet sighed. She activated the coffee machine she kept in her office. “Then think of this as a learning experience. A starting line to living like other ponies.”
She poured them both a mug. “Besides, my daughter knows a dragon who can teach you a lot about being a pony.”
Blankety Blank murmured contentedly as he guzzled his coffee. His eyes snapped open. “Wait, what?”
***
It was long after hours when Time Turner heard a knock at his front door. He stumbled out of his workroom, welding goggles pushed up on his forehead. “We’re closed!”
The knock insisted.
Time unlatched the locks on his door, mumbling all the while. “Oh, ‘closed’ just means ‘I need to knock harder,’ is that it? ‘After hours’ is another way of saying ‘everypony’s welcome,’ is that right? Well, let me tell you—”
He opened the door, revealing two mares covered from head-to-tail in mud and smelling of much worse. He stumbled back. “Um. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“An opportunity to help Celestia,” the taller mare said. On closer inspection, Turner realized that she was an alicorn. A specific alicorn. “You have a materials lab, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Time Turner said after a second. “Hardness testers, heat-treat ovens, even a spectrometer. Why?”
“We’ve got a couple of artifacts to examine,” the shorter mare said. She scratched her mane, causing mud clumps to fall to the ground. “We can’t find out too much about them until we know what they’re made of.”
Time Turner licked his lips and held his breath. “My lab is specifically for metals.”
“That’s what made me think of you,” Twilight Sparkle said. She levitated the wing blade out of her saddlebags. “They’re small throwing knives based on an old design.”
“An ancient design,” the shorter pony added.
Time Turner moved to the side to let them in. “If it’ll help Celestia, you’re certainly welcome to use my lab. I’d like to… request you get yourselves cleaned up, first. Shower’s upstairs and to the right.”
The shorter pony looked down. “Oh yeah. I guess we’re kinda dirty. A little.”
The mud on Twilight Sparkle’s face cracked as she frowned. “I don’t think we have time for—”
“There’s always time to keep me from vomiting on my instruments,” Time Turner said. “Upstairs, shoo.”
The short pony pulled off her pith helmet, revealing the grayscale mane beneath. “I’ll save the hoofshake for later, but I wanna say it’s a real honor to meet you, Turner. You’re a legend with the Knights.”
Time Turner’s ears flopped down. “Thank you, but legends often differ from facts, Miss…”
Twilight stepped in. “Time Turner, this is A.K. Year—”
Daring Do pushed her aside. “Daring Do, in the flesh.”
Twilight threw her legs up. “Right. Why do we even have secret identities in the first place? Who needs ’em?”
Time’s eyebrows shot up. “Daring? As in the actual Daring Do?”
Daring Do crossed her forelegs. “So you’ve heard of me?”
“You might say that.” He took a deep breath to say something further, but gagged on the Everfree air. “Ugh. Daring Do in my shower is not quite as sexy as fan fiction led me to believe.”
Daring stared at him with wide eyes. She burst out laughing.
Twilight felt a headache coming on. “Well, both of us need to get cleaned up. You start setting up the devices, Turner.”
She walked swiftly up the staircase, Daring Do on her heels. Time Turner watched them go, before entering his workroom to clean up a few loose tools.
***
Evening fell over a half-finished building in Canterlot. Construction crews packed away their tools, shut of the cranes, and left for home in one rush-hour mass. Only the forepony stayed behind to lock up. He was about to seal the last gate when he was tapped on the shoulder. “Hay, this area’s off-limits.”
“I don’t know about that,” Viscount Dulcimer said. “I’m the owner.”
The forepony jumped. “Oh, boss! Didn’t know you were coming by.”
The viscount rested his foreleg around the forepony’s shoulders. “I didn’t either until earlier today. I’m a little bit curious about how the construction’s going on.” He looked behind himself. “Coming, Scuttlebutt?”
Scuttlebutt, the viscount’s personal aide, was a short, thin pony. When he smiled, it often reminded ponies of a rat about to eat cheese. On that note, he smiled altogether too often for most ponies’ taste. “Yes sir.”
The forepony puffed his chest out. “We got a lot done today. First two floors are good, just need to move the stores in now. Windows need installing on the third floor, and the iron skeleton’s just about finished up top.”
They walked towards a set of stairs. Dulcimer slowed down. “Pardon me, Forepony, but my assistant has a bad knee. Are any of the elevators active?”
“B, C, and F are, boss.” The forepony pushed a button, causing magical currents to open the elevator doors. “Running on local siphons right now, but we’re hooking it up to the grid in a couple weeks.”
“Excellent,” Dulcimer said. “Come along, Scuttlebutt.”
The three ponies piled onto the elevator. Viscount Dulcimer pushed the button for the top floor. “I hope you don’t mind. I like to take every opportunity I can to see Canterlot at night.”
“No problem, boss.” The forepony sat down. “We’ll start the tour on the top floor is all.”
“What’s your name, Forepony?” Dulcimer asked.
“Stacks, sir.” The forepony chuckled. “Stacks of pancakes, stacks of bricks, stacks of bits, it’s all good.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Stacks.” The viscount looked at the glowing buttons as they hit the second floor with a “ding.” “What do you know about changelings, Stacks?”
Stacks shrugged. “I know they’re bad news, boss.”
“Alright,” Dulcimer said. His voice took on an edge. “What do you know about assassinations?”
Forepony Stacks blinked. He fought the urge to scuff his hoof. “Assassinations? Like what happened to the princess?”
“That.” Dulcimer tilted his head. “There was also a changeling assassination attempt on Blueblood’s life today. What do you know about that?”
Stacks couldn’t stop his ears from laying back on his head. “Don’t know nothing, boss. I’ve just been working here all day.”
Dulcimer shut his eyes and nodded in understanding. “So you mean to tell me that you didn’t find out about my plans to poison Blueblood. You didn’t go to the police with a hint about the time and date. You didn’t send it in anonymously to avoid being caught.” He opened his green eyes and smiled. “And it wasn’t your fault that a changeling interrupted my murder?”
Sweat poured out from under Stacks’ hardhat. “I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about, boss.”
The elevator “dinged” again as they hit the third floor. Viscount Dulcimer patted Stacks’ back. “My mistake, of course. I didn’t mean for the information to fall into your hooves. That was an oversight on my part. There really wasn’t anything else you could have done. It was your civic duty to turn me in.”
Viscount Dulcimer traded a glance with Scuttlebutt. “And if you had concrete evidence, it might have worked.”
Forepony Stacks was an earth pony. He lifted bricks for a living. He was no slouch in the muscle department. When he threw the punch at Viscount Dulcimer’s head, it really should have flattened it. Instead, it clanged uselessly against the wall of the elevator, rocking it on its pulleys and metal cables.
The viscount’s voice came from behind the forepony. “Tisk, tisk. You don’t have time for this.”
The forepony gaped. There had been no flash of teleportation. No blur of movement. No flicker of illusion. There was no way the viscount could have moved that fast.
A hefty weight hit the back of Stacks’ head. He tumbled to the ground under the blow from Scuttlebutt’s buck.
“We’ve arrived on the top floor, sir,” Scuttlebutt said. His cheese-eating grin crossed his face. “How would you like to take care of this problem?”
The doors opened, allowing Scuttlebutt to exit. Dulcimer walked out and leaned his face close to Stacks’. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to fire you. I’m not going to kill you either. Your family will get your full life insurance, plus a hefty care package from the company. I’ll take care of them far better than you ever could.”
Tears dripped from Stacks’ eyes. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna kill me?”
“I’m not.” Dulcimer’s horn flared bright. A bubble of magic gripped the metal cables above the elevator. The cables rusted right before the three ponies’ eyes. “But it’s not the fall that kills you.”
The cables snapped. The breaks disconnected. Stacks screamed as the elevator carried him down four stories to a crushing end.
“Speaking of insurance,” Scuttlebutt said, “our premiums are about to go up.”
“But for the publicity this is going to get?” Viscount Dulcimer smirked. “It won’t cost nearly as much as what we’d pay the advertising agencies.”
He walked to the edge of the fourth floor. The walls had yet to be added, so he was standing in open air. Lights sparkled into existence like ground-bound stars. “Though Blueblood’s still among the living, I’ve managed to root out an information leak, sealed several contracts from various businesses, and learned that my enemies have a changeling.” He turned to Scuttlebutt and smiled. “All in all, it’s been a pretty good day.”
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Ooooh, two chappies in one! Interesting way to introduce characters to each other, and also start ratcheting up the intrigue and suspense.
Someone's jealous!
He's a heck of a friend, still hanging with Blueblood after Bluey marries his ex. I like that you made Fancy the Lord Mayor.
I find it hilarious that most ponies expect the mane 6 to jump in to action to save the world, even Blueblood, but otherwise treat them like normal ponies. I guess hero is kind of like garbage collector in equestria, very handy when they're needed, not that impressive when they are not.
Also, is Twilight Velvet in charge of a secret police force? I ask because being the editor of a famous author is a full time job, and so is being a police chief, but maybe she needs the editor gig as a day job.
Overall good fun, I'd ask if we're ever going to meet sober Blueblood, but I get the feeling that is not a common occurrence.
5199948
All in a day's work. Or a couple week's worth.
I don't know what you're talking about. She just so happened to be curious about this biologically compatible to dragons female that Spike knows. No ulterior motives.
I have it on good authority, my own, that Fancy and Fleur's relationship was a pretty nothing relationship. Big man he is, giving up the chick who used to follow him around everywhere.
That's pretty much what we see in the show. "Elements who?" Ponies have a despicably short long-term memory when it comes to life-imperilment.
She probably finds time the same way Daring Do finds time between swinging over bottomless pits and dueling Ahuizotl to the death multiple times a month.
Bit of backstory: Twilight edits for Daring as a personal favor to a friend. We'll see more of that over the course of the story. She doesn't do editing for a living any more than Daring writes for one. And Daring only writes about one book a year, if that. Not quite full-time job there.
As for the secret police force thing... Missus Velvet is Chief of the very public CPD. She just so happens to have rather secretive assets at her disposal, should she go to the princess for assistance. But that part's a plot point, so I won't be digging deeper.
Besides, we rarely see authors making use of a police force. It's always the guard. It makes it seem like Equestria is constantly under martial law. I wanted to do something a little unique.
Maybe he needs to run into a sobering experience?
5203144
Whatever you say. She should look on the bright side, clearly
Oh man, that makes it way more intriguing, spinning it 180* like that. No wonder Fancy puts up with his friend's drunken shenanigans, he feels guilty about unloading a stalker on Blueblood and trapping him in a loveless marriage! That does make you wonder how Fleur nabbed her white/blond whale. Say what you will about Blueblood, he's been shown to have excellent skills in discouraging gold diggers.
I blame the lack of professional country music in Equestria. When is Fiddlesticks going to start releasing albums about the Price of Harmony and selling hoofbands and cartstickers that say "I support the Elements?"
That is a very good point. In the comics they show that at least the larger cities have a police force, but generally in the show it seems like Celestia's never heard of Posse Comitus. I always made the idealistic assumption that both crime and foreign invasions were rare enough that combining the guard with the cops made sense, and nobody thought of a downside. Separating cops and the military, like pretty much all other legal safeguards, are invented after an abuse has occurred, so if there haven't been historical abuses of a power, it won't be strictly regulated.
Either he's halfway through his twelve steps already, or it will never happen, because changling assassins are about as sobering an experience as you can have.
5203205
Who knows, there may be hope yet...
Sometimes, defenses can be lowered. Sometimes, a dart slides past the shield and pierces the heart.
Sometimes, you find that being a princess is a worthy enough reason to live with a lush.
That would be pretty awesome. It probably won't happen until ponies equate "I wasn't eaten by timberwolves today" with "I live next door to Applejack."
This Equestria isn't nearly so idealistic. Ponies like the Flimflam brothers regularly get off scott free. It isn't unheard of for Diamond Dogs to kidnap ponies. Dragons have to be dealt with very, very carefully. There's the Unholy Abomination Attack of the Week...
All in all, not much of a shortage of need for peacekeepers.
Nightmare Moon seemed pretty abusive, you ask me.
5203336
How? Dragons and ponies are clearly biologically incompatible, you'd need some sort of potion from a master alchemist to pull it off.
Stallions marry mares that resemble their aunts, I guess.
Turns out no, if the story is any indication. No more than a pretty flank makes up for a scheming social climber. Maybe things went sour once the topic of the "royal succession" came up.
To be fair, it might also be ponies equating "my town got wrecked by parasprites, bunny stampedes, fights over stuffed animals, and a magnet for jealous showmares hopped up on alicorn power, library-blasting centaurs, and Discord" with who they live next door to.
Sure, makes sense, this is a more grounded realistic story, and that will always invite in a bit more edge. I would say that those examples in canon, at least the first two, are more about the unbelievably forgiving justice system, but certainly Equestria is a dangerous place.
I dunno, if you go by canon she just went nuts and started wailing on her sister. Terrible, but not really an abuse of governmental power, unless alicorn magic counts as government power. Probably the safeguard they implemented from that was making Celestia do lots of cheesy photo op activities like brunches in small towns and that sun-raising ceremony every year, so she feels loved and less likely to flip out herself. And Chucklelot, that's clearly a NMM-safeguard.
5203573
I have not shown, through prose or appendix, if change occurs with potions or magicks. Twilight's become a breezie in canon, but I go deeper in my personal fanon. Power outputs matter, who's casting it, too. In Equestria, happy endings come harder for you.
*Chortle* I wonder if he recognizes the resemblance or not.
Hay, word on the street is that her flank is to die for.
Cough. Well, it seems like they'd have done something about that one way or the other. I mean, there had to be some physical attraction somewhere in there. At least at the beginning. Sour dispositions ruin the handsomest/prettiest smiles.
In Fluttershy's defense, the whole Discord thing was Celestia's idea.
When your justice system is "Shoot it with friendship and see if it explodes or not"...
It's amazing the things you can do if you use Canon as a foundation instead of a fence. Sure, their final confrontation was a one-and-done deal, but there was the growing jealousy to consider. The time of seduction by the Nightmare Forces. The cloak and dagger rendezvous with various underworld entities who stood to gain from Celestia falling from power...
It was a pretty awesome story, all told. I may tell it one day.
Ah, Chucklelot. Birthplace of some very, very strange fan art.
5206166
...especially when the masseuse sees you have scales! (Never have I been gladder that this
exists).
You know after the wedding (that Celestia had to officiate) Luna was laughing into her pillow for 12 hours straight. With the Royal Canterlot Guffaw too, so it got blamed on a flock of nocturnal geese.
In Celestia's defense, she thought it was understood that if you choose to live in the town next to the forest of hungry monsters, you've basically agreed that you are an adrenaline-addicted thrill seeker and the Equestrian government is obsolved of anything that happens to you.
Luckily Cadance murdered Sombra, otherwise under Equestrian legal precedent, she would have to co-rule with him.
Well they certainly didn't take the precaution of locking up dangerous magic. But now I like to imagine there is a specific bill passed in Parliament forbidding Eternal Night/Day. And I do like your idea, I wished during the season finale Tirek went to Luna and was all "I've come to collect your soul. Also, I want my chariot back. "
Now I hope there is a little Blueblood the 53rd or Lily Flower or something running around.
What I wouldn't give for a comic that was just Cadance, Twilight and Blueblood's Chucklelot performances.
5206411
I never seem to catch my own double entendres before I imply something that wasn't quite implied.
But now that the implication is there, it fits altogether too well. C'est la vie.
Part of the joke is that she hired Spike to plan the bachelor party again. He bought a cake from Pinkie. Blueblood's eyes lit up like stars when he saw the giant thing roll in...
There was a resounding murmur of dismay when Spike started cutting it up and serving it.
Fluttershy missed that part of her rental agreement.
I can only see good things coming from that.
He would revolutionize exercise with his "Staaaiiirrrsss EVERYWHERE" reform.
His intimate knowledge of crystals would bring scientific advances to every part of the world.
Rarity would finally have a decent pony to pine after.
Also, Spike murdered him. Honestly, how could you have forgotten already?
To which every Equestrian would say, "What's parliament?"
Ahem. That's not to say they don't have a rough equivalent. I haven't quite come up with a name for the Gathering of the Mayors, but it's safe to say "Mayor" is roughly equivalent to the term "Governor."
There are things older, darker, and deeper than Tirek.
Ahahahahahaha!
Not quite yet, I'm afraid. Not quite yet.
Ah, I, bwah...
Hmm.
That would make for a very, very interesting story, I think. There wouldn't be visual gags, it being a textual medium, but...
Hmm...
Huh.
I go to ponder.
5206573
Considering it's Spike, and the draconic penchant for throwing grudges, he should be relieved that Spike didn't pick up the cake and throw it at him. Besides, special cakes are illegal in Equestria, ever since Celestia's 500th birthday. (Poor Chippendale. I'm not sure if being eaten in one gulp or being stomach-pumped was worse. )
I read a great story with that ship, but I forgot which one... But it would be great to see one of fabulous pony's romantic schemes pay off for once, and then see how Prince Blueblood gets along with Queen Rarity.
Perhaps because Drake Hasslehoff (he's huge in the Crystal Empire) has been too busy reminding Rainbow Dash to remind me. I was going to point out how it was Cadance who fired the magic beam into the Crystal Heart that killed him, but then I remembered that it was the joy of all the Crystal ponies that powered the heart, so I guess it was like a community murder? Like a stoning?
I think it's a "gaggle," like with geese.
Surely you speak not of the Smooze, for nothing can stop it! At least, nothing 1000 years ago, when they hadn't developed sophisticated sandbag technology.
Dang, there are no thinking cap emoticons.
I was really wondering about the fahr-verse Rarity and when she turned into a changeling, but then it became clear. Interesting job position for Twilight Velvet, head of the Canterlot police is definitely not something I've seen her as before (though I can think of one or two stories that involve Canterlot police actually existing in addition to the royal guard).
Hah!
I really hope something terrible happens to Dulcimer.
5206667
Chippendale later formed a team of Rescue Rangers with Monterey Jack, Gadget, and Zipper, giving up one line of work for another.
The author is a close and dear friend of mine.
Well, maybe, but not in this series.
Ha!
That's a good way to looked at it. A crystaling, perhaps, or a loving. The Crystal Empire, where "I Heart U" is taken as a serious, deadly threat.
Gaston the Griffon, Lord Mayor of Cloudsdale, takes offense at that.
Smooze was just a pawn. A means to an end. True, it ended up being an end to their means, but he's just one of the many monstrosities from before recorded history.
But we do have rough equivalents.
5207509
Don't worry, you didn't accidentally skip one. Maybe purposefully skipped one, but not accidentally.
Twilight Sparkle's family is a band of fighters, literally and figuratively. My first thought was that she would be a veteran Royal Guard, which she still is, but moving along to Police Chief gives her reason to be active in the story. I figure she's not one to just lie down and retire.
I figured that was either funny or cringe-inducing bad.
Either way, I get a reaction.
You're gonna be waiting a while to see him get any sort of comeuppance.
5209884
I didn't watch the show much, but weren't the Rescue Rangers always afraid of getting eaten by a giant, white, gluttonous cat?
You know the reclusive author M. Y. Hobby?
Spike should really record some songs and sell them in the Crystal Empire, like "Hooked on a Feldspar" and "Rhinestone Cow."
I think "I heart U" was a quote from that famous Crystal Empire play, "Basic Instinct," where the actress stabs her lover to death with a sliver of the Crystal Heart. The actress was an inspired choice, but what else can you expect from a Crystal Pony named Sharing Stone?
Well too bad for him. There's only one of him currently, so a Wing of Mayors would be silly. By the way, since Griffon guns and gunpowder are still pretty rare and hard for non-Griffons to acquire/use, is it true that in Equestria, no one shoots like Gaston?
Uh oh, I think things are going to get Hocus-pocus in Equestria soon.
5210509
Umm... No, I don't think Fat Cat wanted to eat them so much as he was just hoping to pull of an evil scheme or two... But I don't really remember either.
That depends. Are you referring to Miles Yosemite Hobby or Michael Yaeger Hobby?
Can't say I'm familiar with that particular play, though I wouldn't be surprised.
Not quite. Gaston is one of the Equestrian-born griffons, without many ties to the glorious homeland. Also, unless you're willing to pay an almost literal king's ransom on the black market, there is absolutely no firearm exportation from said homeland. He probably hasn't even seen such a weapon.
Yet.
Eh, hocus pocus, alakazam, zoot zoot, bippity boppity boop. You've got your pick of magic words in Equestria. The most powerful is still 'please,' though.
5211618
Ok fine, but tell me that at least no one fights like Gaston, douses lights like Gaston, and in a wrestling match nopony bites like Gaston (I imagine with a beak, that's got to be true).
5212684
There were a few comments on Lord Mayor Applejack to that degree about his political style.
"Noooo Ooooonnneeee....
Votes like Gaston!
Makes speeches like Gaston!
No one gubernates towns in the sky like Gaston!"
"I'm especially good with my filibusters!"
"Bring your ballots to Gaston!"
"A medalist in the Equestria games
That's where I got most of my fans
And now that I run in a different race
My political leanings are bland!"
"You know, Applejack, I've been thinking..."
"I know.
Luna has taken Celestia's place,
and her sanity's only so-so.
The gears in my head have been creaking
This government thing is a breeze
There's so many bills that could now be passed
Luna can't understand legalese!"
5252742 Hey, remember that time I said comedy was your destiny, rather than serious adventure? (Or maybe it was Sith Lord Pinkie)
Clearly I was wrong, I should not have been using words like "rather" and "or;" instead I should have been saying "also" and "both."
This is why the very best long stories are like neopolitan ice cream, several complimentary delicious flavors all the way through.
Oh, and as for Gaston, I've heard that when he was a cub he ate four dozen eggs, 'cause he heard it would help him get smart, and now that he's grown he eats five dozen eggs, so his I.Q. is quite off the charts (self-reported). I just hope he's not skeezing on Sweetie Belle.
5252997
Well, you didn't come right out and say "MyHobby, stick with comedy," but the implication was there.
I'm glad you think so. I've been trying to keep myself balanced, writing stories of both lighter fare and this, the slightly dimmer variety. I want to be well-rounded, because, like you said:
Absolutely. As far as storytelling goes, sad moments make the happier moments more special, and the happy moments give the sad that much more weight. It's wonderfully synergistic. Take this story right here, we open with a big shocker in the form of Celestia falling victim! That leads into an extended sequence of sorrow and mourning. It slowly perks up as we meet the citizens of Ponyville, until Dulcimer is introduced via chase scene!
Next chapter's even going to have a few lighthearted moments, just to keep the readers on their toes.
If he'd been in Ponyville a few years back, he'd have organized the mob that went to capture Nightmare Moon.
"Through the night
O'er the cliffs
Past the pony-eating flora
It's a Nightmare but it's no reason to hide
"Comb your hair
Swallow fear
Manticores are just a bother
The forces of good and evil will collide!"
I'm not saying you just wrote a subplot for Rhythm and Rhyme, but I may be required to give you a co-writing credit.
5262569
There are other authors who pull that off with their stories as well as you do, but I can't think of another single author blending a 'verse together with these tonally different but thematically similar stories.
You often see a couple of big adventure stories making up a 'verse that have a few comedy or slice of life stories as basically a garnish, but you've made adventure, comedy and slice-of-life have equal weighting, and that's really impressive. I guess it's in how you distribute the world-building.
My favorite Disneyland ride is Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. This seemed relevant somehow.
We already had some of those with Drunkblood. (Maybe they weren't actually lighthearted, at this point I have a Pavlovian response of laughter to Blueblood drinking).
Assuming she didn't just kill them, Nightmare Moon could have pulled off a whole "Home Alone" shtick on Gaston and his followers, what with all the traps she and Tia built into the castle.
I should warn you, I've lived in LA, so I know at this point to ask for a producer credit, points off the back end (whatever those are) and a private trailer.
5262646
I was going to mention Estee's Tryptic Continuum, until I realized that there's the main darkventure story and a bajillion sadjedy/sliceofcomedy side stories (with a couple other adventure stories). But I think that comes the closest, of all I've read on the site.
Sometimes I wonder if it's a good idea. I mean, obviously they're good stories, but I can't help but wonder if doing so alienates readers who aren't you. Is somebody who liked Fahr Drill going to say "hay, this story with a dark tag featuring Celestia falling victim to an assassination attempt looks like a fantastic continuation of the series!" I dunno. I guess I just hook 'em as they come.
I sure hope it's distributed, rather than haphazardly sprinkled or reiterated ad nausium.
I've only gone to Disneyworld, myself, so I feel unqualified to comment.
It might be Pavlov's doing, yes. I didn't expect those scenes to be boring, no, but loveless marriages aren't the first place I go to for comedy.
I love that episode.
Best part is she can do it from the organ room, playing a haunting melody while all around her comedic chaos results. 
I don't suppose you also want to star in the movie adaptation?
5264239
It's bundling. You probably gain more readers who like some of your stories to read other stories in genres they normally wouldn't read, than you lose in readers who won't read your stories that are in their favorite genre because it's tied into a verse with elements in different genres. I think you net out ahead.
And yeah, Estee (another favorite author of mine) probably does come closest, but they do have an adventurous central narrative (not that there's anything wrong with that).
As long as you've got comedy's, adventures, and slice-of-lifes, all with load-bearing background and properly-buttressed character insights, the weight of the plot is evenly distributed and it won't come crashing down. That there's some solid worldbuilding.
I've watched a fair amount of Oscar Wilde & George Bernard Shaw, so watching wealthy nobility drink and bicker at each other is hilarious to me on a deeply ingrained level.
It's all fun and games until someone (could be Gaston as well as ponies) gets their hands on Inspiration Manifestation. Man would I love to see a fight between an alicorn and someone under that curse.
Tempting. Who's attached to direct? Spielberg? Cameron? Finish?
5264346
Ooh, bundling like those "6 fantasy movie" bundles in the Walmart clearance bin! I got it!
Actually, hopefully more like the "Watch all the Lord of the Rings movies before you see The Battle of Five Armies" bundles.
You might be right, there. It sound good to me, at least. I guess I'll never know for sure unless people speak out in the comments.
Mine does, too, with some arguing. Of course, there's some real, consequential character development through all my stories, so it's not a purely adventurous narrative. Heh. Look at me, I'm prolific.
A six story world building at that. And I'm not even an architect.
Fair enough! I've contemplated a few Fancypants and Blueblood stories based off of that premise alone, so I see what you're getting at.
Maybe a little off-subject, but I've just started seeing Fleur as some sort of pony Hyacinth from Keeping Up Appearances. "It's pronounced 'Blehblogh'!"
It would be an epic for the ages.
Maybe I'll have to watch that episode again to see what they ended up doing with it. It could factor into some villain's plot here or there.
Owie Bolt, a pegasus who needs no introduction. Cycle Bay is producing, better known by his penname Big Boom.
5290659
I was thinking more like a steam bundle, but that is a solid example.
It does now, but it started off with a few colts and a fahr, so maybe it's just a different order of things. Instead of starting by asking everyone to buy in to a 200,000 word adventure, you start with some small comedies, then some larger slice of life, readers feel comfortable in this peaceful, interesting version of Ponyville and Equestria they've come to know. Then you flip the table and scream "Guess what? Someone jacked up Sunbutt! Now sh!t's about to get real"
And we have to know more!
Shining Armor is planning to propose to Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, who receives 3000 pounds a year income, and Fancy Pants tries to dissuade him, while Blueblood makes acerbic quips in a corner. You only have to have one drawing room.
Fleur loves her some candle-lit suppers.
It seems similar to the alicorn amulet, but somewhat less corrupting and way more powerful. Lot of mileage there.
Wow, and all of a sudden I have other commitments. Every since Cycle Bay made that movie about carts that are actually golems in disguise, I've been avoiding his work.
5290750
With some Lord Mayor shenanigans somewhere in there, but yeah. I don't plan to drop the Slice of Life aspect either, as far as overarching plot goes.
That should probably be the short description of the story.
It's telling that I spent the first five minutes after reading this comment trying to figure out how many bits were in a pound.
More than that, to my eye it looked like while the amulet corrupted... the book controlled. Like it was a Sapience unto itself. A malevolent Sapience.
That's your prerogative. I personally liked Metamorphers better than Ragnarok, but I've been a fan of those since the year 984 CE (Celestial Era).
Huh. Color me unobservant - even when Blankety-as-Rarity was tasting the emotional atmosphere, my thoughts tended more toward "is this some new Generosity ability?" than toward "changeling". I didn't figure it out until "she drugged me with some sort of magic".
Clearly the Viscount isn't what he seems. Hard to narrow it down beyond that at the moment, though. Current guess at his dodge is that he's got some sort of bilocation trick.
Trust me Time Turner fantasy is not always as accurate as reality.