• Published 6th May 2016
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A Beginner's Guide to Heroism - LoyalLiar



A unicorn wizard must come to terms with what it means to be a hero, and whether that choice is worth abandoning his magical mentor's teachings.

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XXX - Double Jeopardy

XXX
Double Jeopardy

The thought of how many soldiers turned spears and swords in my direction as I pushed my way into the throne room of Burning Hearth castle still amuses me to this day. The threat didn’t really last very long, as Celestia’s sheer stature walking nearby quickly put to rest all thoughts that there was a fight to be had—or at least, that there was a fight to be won. Heavily bundled servants of Cyclone and Jade’s crystalline entourage alike stepped aside as Celestia and I approached our host and my monarch.

Was she technically still my monarch? For all the international political fiasco that my false accusation caused, I’ve never bothered getting a deep enough grasp of ‘citizenship’ to wrap my head around whether her attempting to execute me annulled my place in the Union.

Jade and Cyclone were conversing on the dais that held the old unicorn throne, and both figures turned at our approach. Cyclone was silent, only slightly raising his brow at Celestia’s unexpected introduction into his negotiations.

Jade was… less restrained.

“Celestia? Did you let Coil out?!” The harsh yelling of the armored mare set the room on edge, but even amidst so many tense soldiers, Celestia was calm.

“I did, Your Majesty. I have every reason to believe he is innocent. It’s good to see you again, by the way. And you, Cyclone.”

“Lady Celeste,” he greeted.

Celestia didn’t feel the need to correct him either.

Jade took an aggressive step toward Celestia, drawing herself up to her full height—which was an amusing head and a half shorter than the living goddess. “He poisoned Smart Cookie! He killed Wintershimmer.”

“Hmm? Poisoning Smart Cookie? I hadn’t even heard that. Why didn’t you mention it, Morty?”

I blinked twice before I found the words. “Uh… I mean, honestly, I don’t even know if Smart Cookie has been poisoned at all. For all I know, Wintershimmer just made that one up because he was worried you wouldn’t be pissed enough to run me out of the Union if I had just murdered him.”

Jade scoffed. “You’re saying Wintershimmer lied to me, accusing you of those crimes, just so that I would prevent you from assuming his seat on my council?”

“If half the things I’ve heard about Wintershimmer are true, that wouldn’t be very surprising.” For her interjection, Celestia received a cold glare from Jade. “But if you disagree, we can settle the matter by asking the stallion himself.”

Jade’s response was scornful, sarcastic. “What makes you certain he won’t lie again?”

Celestia’s horn ignited. “I hope this doesn’t come across as conceited, but the only answer I can offer is because I’m the pony asking.”

And then there was Wintershimmer, just standing in front of us. I might seem like I’m being flippant, but I really mean that description. Celestia seanced him not only without apparent effort, but almost without apparent thought. The abruptness of her magic seemed on the verge of impossible. I will remind you that as the foremost necromancer in the world, my opinion there suggested less that Celestia was supernaturally swift, and more that there was something deeper going on.

Wintershimmer was unaware of the minor magical miracle that had brought him to the throne room. He looked around the room for a moment before settling on me, and then on Celestia. “I assume you’ve summoned me for a reason?” he asked bluntly.

“We wanted to discuss Morty.” Celestia waved a wing around the room. “As you can see, your accusations against him are beginning to create a problem for Equestria and the Crystal Union alike. Now that Coil has left the Crystal Union, will you rescind your claims?”

Wintershimmer seemed disinterested in Celestia, casting his focus toward Jade. I took note of the strangely familiar way in which he delivered the single syllable of his answer. “Yes.”

If only the crystal alicorn in the room could have shared Celestia’s sense of humor. “What?!” Jade shouted. “You dared to lie to me? About your own death?”

Wintershimmer nodded, almost as if expecting more from his former ‘ruler’. When she balked at his blunt response, he spoke up. “I have no interest in debating philosophy with you.”

I held my tongue as realization of Celestia’s plan dawned.

Celestia, if you’re reading this, I am not sorry for this or any future solar puns.

Jade was taken aback by this new revelation. “And what of Cookie?”

“What difference does it make to me?”

I dared a quick glance at Celestia; that she wasn’t even slightly grinning made it clear to me just how incredible her mastery of the situation was. Wintershimmer glanced back at Celestia, and with another unbelievably casual flash of magic, the seance ended.

It was no more than the space of a breath before Jade roared in fury. “This is a trick. It has to be! Celestia, what did you offer him? He would not have lied to me! Wintershimmer was my most trusted advisor.”

I scoffed—apparently more loudly than I had intended, as Jade’s eyes immediately riveted on me. Never one to recognize the time to shut my mouth, I decided that having seized the floor, it was the appropriate time to continue. “Just like he was the trusted advisor to Halite? Or the warlord before him? Jade, let's be honest: Wintershimmer played you like a violin. I'm inclined to make a chess metaphor, but that would imply you were even a player, and not just a pawn to him. Even in death he’s still got you wrapped around his hoof." Jade took a step forward, but confidence from Celestia's presence kept my mouth running all the same. "Here’s a fun example: Star Swirl has never tried to use a crystal ball and spy on your council meetings. Whenever you saw a Candlecorn flare up, that was completely meaningless magic. Wintershimmer just wanted to convince you not to talk about important matters unless he was present.”

“You lie! You all—”

“Jade, look at me.” Celestia’s voice was calm, spoken at no raised volume and with no unusual force, yet it nevertheless stole the wind from Jade’s shout. If I hadn’t been able to see the lack of magic on her horn, I would have sworn she’d cast a spell. “I have no desire to force you to believe me. I refuse to reach into your mind that way. But I assure you that Morty did not murder Wintershimmer, and he did not poison your husband.”

Jade snarled. “How would you know? Why are you even here?”

Celestia glanced over to me briefly, before turning back to Jade. “I learned of what was happening here from my sister, who spoke to Morty in his dreams. I chose to come personally because my goddaughter asked.”

A teal magic pulled Jade’s sword from its sheath. “First Cookie is attacked on Equestrian soil, and then you take in his poisoner? You even dare interfere in his execution?”

“I don’t represent Equestria,” Celestia rebutted. “I’m not their queen, nor even a princess.”

“You’re their goddess!”

“I am not a god.” Though I wouldn’t call Celestia angry, there was an iron in that thought that I hadn’t heard in her early words. “I may not age, Jade, but I am just a mare.” Her golden magic surged along her horn, and a distinct metallic snap echoed around the chamber. A moment later, it was followed by a ringing clang as the blade of Jade’s weapon rattled on the stone floor, severed cleanly from its hilt. In its own small way, the motion made explicit just how close Celestia was to being a goddess without crossing the line. “Please do not force my hoof. Believe what you wish, but let Morty go.”

“Is that a threat?!”

Celestia hung her head for just a moment, sighing visibly. “I had hoped it would be a calm request. But if a threat is what it takes to make sure everypony leaves this room peacefully, then that’s a cost I’m willing to pay.”

A heavy quiet settled over the throne room. Jade watched Celestia and I. I turned to Celestia and nodded, a quiet acknowledgement of my thanks.

Jade turned to Cyclone. “My offer still stands, Cyclone.”

“I’ve led armies for almost twenty years of my life, Jade. I know an unwinnable battle. And even if we could best the goddess by force, I would not want to. My soul sits heavy enough without committing deicide.”

Celestia rolled her eyes, but followed it up with an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Cyclone.”

Jade turned toward the door, only to fling her head back over her shoulder, still wearing her increasingly more permanent scowl—the sort a grandmother would be inclined to warn about ‘getting stuck like that’. “I’m not going to forget this.”

Celestia replied only with, “I’m sorry.”

It took some time before Jade’s entourage filed out of the room, but in a matter of a few minutes, only three of us remained. Mortal Coil, Cyclone, and Celestia.

The red pegasus spoke up. “Do you believe she will cease her pursuit, Lady Celeste?”

“I don’t know. I can only hope." Celestia's wings fell slack as she sighed, and with that the tension swept out of the room. "I am beginning to remember why I always left politics to Luna. How do you deal with that, Cyclone?"

"In truth?" A bitter chuckle escaped Cyclone's lips. "I'm a tyrant, Celestia." His hoof rapped on the hilt of his preposterous, boat oar of a sword.

Celestia gave a tired nod, glanced at me, and turned back. "I imagine Morty and his friends will want to be on their way soon. Are you able to furnish some supplies for the journey?”

“I can.” The scarred soldier rose from his stolen throne and paced slowly toward us. “Morty, you have my apologies for my condemnation.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t exactly have any evidence, like you said.”

“Nevertheless, I feel I must offer some sort of recompense for coming so close to seeing you killed. Perhaps I can offer--”

Celestia raised a hoof. “Before we deal with that, I’d like to speak to Morty in private now that the affair with Jade is settled. I’m also a bit hungry after the flight from Everfree. Could you lend us a room, and perhaps some breakfast?”

Cyclone nodded. “The castle is yours, Lady Celeste.”

“I appreciate the offer, but breakfast and an hour’s privacy will be just fine.”


Cyclone gave us the main dining hall, which still carried memories of my rather bitter parting with Gale, and the last time I had spoken to Cyclone after threatening his life. This time, it was much quieter. I walked down near the head of the table, finding a sizeable plate of bread, cheese, and fruit waiting alongside goblets for wine. I appreciated what the pegasus was trying to do, but without a dozen-odd young pegasi and servants giving at least some semblance of life to the room, the thirty-six seat table was entirely imposing.

Celestia took the large cushioned seat at the head of the table, and gestured with a wing to the place just to her right. “I hope you’ll forgive me for jumping for the head of the table, but I’m not sure the other seats would support my weight.”

“It’s fine.” I sat down and drew in just a single whiff of the delicious food we’d been given. Weeks on the road left me unable to resist something smelling so delicious; my horn ignited and with gentle telekinesis, I served myself. “What did you want to talk about?”

“You, Morty. Specifically, your future.” Despite the fact she had been the one to request breakfast, Celestia ignored the food.

That left a painful gap in the discussion as I quickly chewed and swallowed a bit of bread and a slice of a rich gouda. “I know being the greatest necromancer in the world at only seventeen makes me about the most interesting pony alive, but I’m not sure the conversation is going to be very interesting.” Celestia concealed a small chuckle behind her wing. “My current plans only go as far as making it to Everfree City.”

“That’s a start, but it doesn’t answer my curiosity, nor the question you didn’t really answer downstairs in the dungeons.” I cocked my head, my mouth otherwise occupied with a tart green apple. “Let me try and start differently. What do you want with your future?”

I swallowed, with the sort of swallowing noise that one can only manage to issue with a slight measure of casual surprise. “I don’t know.”

“You haven’t given the question any thought at all? You’ve been on the road for a month now, haven’t you? Nearly two?”

“I…” I shook my head. “Why do you care?”

I hadn’t asked with any particular aggression, but Celestia’s ears wilted just a bit. “I have two reasons. The first is that you’re an incredibly powerful mage. Unusually powerful, if even half the things Gale and Tempest said about your adventures are true. That isn’t much of a surprise, given your mentor’s—”

Nopony said anything, but I know I must have winced or scowled or something that stopped Celestia’s words. I set down my apple, drew in a breath, and forced myself to look her in the eyes. “I’m not going to keep summoning Wintershimmer, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’d rather everypony just forgot about him.”

“I see.” Celestia offered a surprisingly formal nod, and then sighed. “The Triumvirate are worried you might be a threat. Typhoon in particular wants some assurance that you aren’t going to be dangerous to Equestria.”

I very briefly considered making some snarky reply, and then stopped myself. They had a point. “I give you my word that I’m not interested in… I don’t know, murdering anypony? Trying to seize the throne? If I never get involved in politics again, it will still be too soon.”

“Remember that, Morty. It may very well be the wisest thing you will ever say.” Celestia sighed. “Unfortunately, they wanted more than just your word. Do you intend to continue studying magic?”

I shrugged. “I guess. At least, if Star Swirl will have me.”

“You may not have heard of her, since she isn’t terribly old, but Diadem—”

“The one with the school?” I asked.

Celestia nodded with a bit of optimism. “She’s a bit like you, actually, Morty. She’s a natural at magic, with an incredible level of power, and I understand she’s done some very inventive studies on storing spells in crystals in some new shape…” As she spoke, I felt my expression souring, until finally she just stopped. “You don’t like the idea, I take it?”

“Oh, no, it sounds just like me. Mortal Coil, the avid reader, who emerges once a fortnight from his ivory tower to look down on the uneducated masses below.”

“I don’t think that’s quite fair to Diadem, Morty.” Celestia’s gaze turned disapproving. “She’s a very caring mare.”

“A very caring mare who stays up in her private school training apprentices with books and chalkboards.” I shook my head. “I know Diadem isn’t the kind of wizard I would want to be because if she were, I would have heard of her long before I met Gale.”

“I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, Morty.” Celestia sighed. “But it sounds like you’re saying she isn’t famous enough for you?”

“Fame is a side effect,” I explained. “But yes, I suppose. Fame is an indicator of achievement. Wizards who actually do their jobs do things. They use their magic to protect ponies from magical threats and monsters. And those actions basically guarantee stories being told. Stories like that lead to fame. So when I hear she has a school instead of teaching apprentices one or two at a time, and I’ve never heard of something she’s actually done, that tells me she isn’t the kind of wizard I would want to be.”

Celestia sat back in the seat at the head of the table, grabbing an apple of her own. Before she bit into it, she spoke briefly. “What kind of wizard do you want to be?”

“A he…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it. The crisp flesh of Celestia’s apple, a glossy red and yellow thing, crunched quite audibly. “I don’t know.”

She swallowed quite silently. “Then how can you say for certain that she isn’t a suitable mentor?”

“I can tell I don’t want to eat a pile of dung without knowing what I want for dinner,” I quipped, almost absentmindedly. “There’s a part of me that still believes in the kind of mage Wintershimmer talked about being. Not the kind he was, but… traveling from place to place, helping ponies and fighting off evil spirits.”

“Being a hero,” Celestia suggested, before taking another bite of her apple.

“Yeah…” It stung coming out. “But Wintershimmer showed me there’s no such thing.”

Celestia swallowed with an audible hint of surprise. “That’s news to me.”

“He almost tricked me into murdering Clover.” At Celestia’s expression of shock, I added “He made the case she was a warlock, and that the windigoes that caused the exodus to Equestria were under her control. I believed every word of it... until I actually looked into her memories.”

“You’re capable of magic like that?”

I shrugged. “Wintershimmer taught me his spell to extract a soul from a living pony. Modifying that magic to inspect the soul without damaging the bond was trivial.”

Celestia blinked, and then shook her head in amusement. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Morty, but Typhoon was right to be concerned…”

I chuckled a bit. “I’m flattered.”

“...which is why the Triumvirate stipulated that you must submit yourself to Diadem’s mentorship in exchange for sanctuary and citizenship in Equestria.”

“I no longer feel flattered,” I observed flatly. “But you can consider the message delivered.”

“Are you going to abide by it?”

“What was it you said downstairs? I believe it will be more valuable if you hear my answer in Everfree City.

Celestia raised a brow. “Morty… I’m sorry to be the one telling you these things.”

“If you actually agree it’s unfair, and that isn't just a platitude, why not lean on your divinity and actually fix the problem?”

Celestia’s expression grew cold. Even writing this, I’m still nowhere near her equal in the art of diplomacy, but it was obvious in that moment when she put on her armor. “I’m only the messenger, Morty.”

I grabbed another plateful of bread and fruit, avoiding her direct gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you” she answered. “You have every right to be angry. I doubt it comes as much consolation, but that message isn’t why I wanted to know about your future.”

She left me with a moment of silence, during which I picked up a speckled apple not unlike the one she had chosen. “Alright, I’ll bite. Why do you want to know?” I followed up the words with a rich bite into the juicy flesh of the fruit.

“When Gale came back to Everfree with Hurricane, she was the happiest that I have ever seen her . Even when Queen Platinum told her she’d be force to attend court for three months, that didn’t dampen her spirits.”

“Being forced to attend court?”

“What sort of punishment would you issue, if you were her parent? Gale loathes the makeup and dresses and sitting still all day.” Celestia’s eyes drifted to the well-frosted windows of the dining room. “In one of the palace hallways, there’s a hilarious portrait of her from when she was four, dressed in a full gown. The artist gave up trying to get her to give a level expression, or even to have her smile, and just painted her pouting. It embarasses her to this day. I’ll have to show you. In any case, I make a point of having lunch with Gale whenever I get the opportunity, and since she’s been back, you and your adventures are all she’s talked about.”

“I see. So Gale wanted you to check up on me?”

“Probably, but she isn’t one to ask for something like that directly. My point, Morty, is that I care for Gale very deeply, and you made her very happy. So, while I have no interest in getting involved with whatever romance you might or might not have decided to pursue, I find myself hoping I can persuade you to come to Everfree, even with what the Triumvirate has asked. For Gale’s sake, if not your own.”

After that, there was quiet. Not silence, if only because the food was delicious, but quiet.

“A bit for your thoughts,” Celestia asked after finishing a particularly icing-heavy sweetroll.

I shrugged. “I have to go to Everfree one way or another. It’s basically the center of the world. I have an obligation to your sister in exchange for answering my plea. And I promised Blizzard I’d take her—”

“Cyclone’s daughter?”

“She wants to get away from him,” I answered briefly, before shaking my head. “When I go to Everfree, I can’t exactly say ‘no’ to the Triumvirate. I don’t have anywhere else to run away to if I get in trouble with them. I’ve pretty much burnt every bridge a pony can at this point. I can give Diadem a chance, but everything I’ve heard about her says that she’s not the kind of mentor I want. I care more about using my magic to go out and do things to help ponies than I do about studying it academically.”

Celestia inclined her head a bit at that. “I’m curious, Morty—how did you come to that conclusion? Was Wintershimmer not an advocate of academic study?”

“Not… It’s a little odd to describe. I learned tons and tons of theories and magical history, but he never had me read it out of books or memorize it by brute force. I always learned by discovering things myself—he and I would actually repeat the experiments that old mages did, and he would only tell me the name of the original pony who invented the spell or figured out the rule after I’d figured it out on my own. He did make me memorize the names and dates and so forth after the fact, but that always seemed easy after working out the initial theory. But more often our lessons were practical. Perhaps weekly, we would be out in the wilds hunting down a cragodiles or bugbears or some other monster threatening the Union.”

“Hmm…” Celestia nodded. “For all his flaws, I can’t deny the quality of your education.”

“You would if you heard him lecture on philosophy.” I coughed twice into my hoof, making my voice as raspy and sunken as I could manage. “Evil is the name of the monster under an adult’s bed. Ponies are afraid of the cold arithmetic, but society is much like a grapevine. Prune the buds that are not yielding fruit, and the whole plant grows stronger.

“He believed that?”

“He practiced it; it paired nicely with his views about perception—not only was he ‘the evil wizard’, but he went out of his way to make sure he was seen that way in public. That way, ponies would be intimidated enough by his reputation that he would get his way without having to actually use his magic. I let him convince me it was an act that justified the damage… Can we not talk about Wintershimmer?”

“As you wish.” Celestia nodded. “Is there something you’d like to discuss instead?”

That was a surprisingly difficult question; what I wanted was a distraction from our prior topic, more than any active pursuit. Thankfully, my mind quickly provided an answer.

“Why pull your trick in the throne room?”

“Hmm?” Celestia grinned knowingly. “What trick did I pull?”

“You didn’t actually seance… Wintershimmer… a second time. That was an illusion, right?”

“Correct.” She quirked a brow. “Did I give myself away? When did you suspect?”

“Well, I knew something was up with the efficiency of your supposed seance. It was just too efficient. Too fast.”

“That early?” Celestia nodded. “And here I thought the fact that he only spoke sentences lifted directly from our earlier conversation would have been the part that gave it away.”

“The line about ‘debating philosophy’ was when I realized the quotes were word for word. Before that, I assumed it was something more involved. It didn’t seem like how he would reply to Jade; he loved forcing her to acknowledge he was the real power in the Union. But that being the case, I’m curious: why restrict yourself to his exact words? You’d heard his voice, and seen what he looked like. Why not just make it up?”

“Hmm… Every unicorn has their talents, and illusion is not--” Celestia’s partial answer was cut off by the door to the dining room opening. Into our company came Graargh and Angel, escorted by one of Cyclone’s soldiers. Both my companions rushed over to me, with Graargh’s tiny ursine form offering a tight hug around my waist.

“Morty!”

“Master Coil, oh, I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Me too,” I answered. “Graargh, Angel, this is Celestia.”

“A pleasure.” Celestia dipped her head. “Graargh and Angel; I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Gale.”

“Why is mane magic?” Graargh asked.

Celestia chuckled at the bluntness of my companion. “Before we continue, how do you say your name?”

Graargh roared.

“Well,” Celestia took a short breath and then unleashed an impressively passable imitation of Graargh’s noise. “My mane comes from the same magic that lets me move the sun.”

In response, Graargh stepped toward Celestia, and to my mild concern, gave her a hug. “You say name!” He roared. “Like!”

“Why thank you.” I sighed in relief that he hadn’t offended her, as Celestia reached a wing down to hug him back—a motion whose heartfeltness made up for the awkwardness of maneuvering her considerable size toward a bear cub who was hugging her without falling out of her seat. “Graargh, I hear you have a very special talent.”

“Do?” Graargh asked, turning his head not unlike a puppy.

“You sometimes look like a pony?”

Graargh’s nose wrinkled up with irritation. “Am bear!” he shouted.

“We know, Graargh,” I offered. “Look, like you did on the boat yesterday. What did you say again?” I scratched my chin briefly “Can you play pretend for us?”

“Can try,” Graargh answered cheerfully, his brief irritation flowing away like raindrops down glass.

I smiled. “Actually, there’s something I’d like you to try. Pretend to be Celestia.”

Graargh looked up. “Celestyuh big. Hard pretend. But I try.”

What ensued was about a minute of miniaturized ursine groaning and squinting. I had begun to give up hope when, all at once, there was a flash of green flame. When it cleared as quickly as it had come, standing on the floor beside Celestia was a tiny white alicorn with a static rainbow mane.

“Do good?” he asked, with a voice not unlike I imagined Celestia would possess after sucking down just a bit too many alchemical fumes.

I broke into laughter, and Celestia hid a chuckle behind a wing, but it was clear from the way her ears slid backward that something serious was on her mind.

“Why laugh?” Graargh exclaimed, jumping up and down—and to my amazement, briefly hovering in the air by flapping his miniature Celestial wings. “Am not funny! Not laugh!”

"Graargh..." I whispered. "You just... Celestia, did he just fly?"

Instead of answering me, the immortal smiled at her smaller self. “Apologies, Graargh. I did not mean to laugh at you. That's an excellent impression."

"Graargh," I asked. "Can you use that horn? Can you do magic?"

“How I do magic?” Graargh asked, looking up at me, and then at Celestia.

“He likely can,” Celestia interrupted. “Though it will take some training. Of course, that is only if he is what I believe him to be.”

“Am bear!” tiny, high-pitched Celestia shouted. She then glared at me when I laughed. “No laugh!”

“I’m…” I failed to finish my apology at first, due to my continuing laughter. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive,” Graargh answered with a pronounced pout, folding Celestia’s forelegs across his chest.

“Celestia, if I might be so bold, how can he use magic? I thought Star Swirl proved that even if you use transmutative magic, you can’t produce magic in new body parts. Isn’t that what he wrote his Omniomorphic Spell to prove?”

“I don’t know,” Celestia replied with a shrug. “I enjoy a discussion of magic with Star Swirl, but I learned magic… well, a very long time ago. All the theories and names he references came about since then, and I haven’t been around equine civilization long enough to pick up on all the formal terminology. What I do know is that a very long time ago, there was a species of creatures who could shapeshift in a way that broke two of the most fundamental rules of unicorn magic. They could use wings and horns that they grew, and they could copy a cutie mark. And as you see on Graargh’s flank…”

I sucked in a breath of pure shock. “That isn’t just an illusion above the surface…”

“If it weren’t my flank, Morty, I might encourage you to feel the coat for yourself.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the corner of Celestia’s mouth curve up as she teased me. “Have you encountered any other creatures like Graargh?”

“No. We’ve been looking for his parents, but they… well, we haven’t found them yet. I admit, I was looking for a pair of bears though.”

“They bears! All are bears!”

“Thank you, Graargh. I understand.” Celestia turned her attention back to me after that minor comfort to her tiny self. “Luna and I will look into the matter of his parents personally.”

“Both of you?” I looked down. “Is Graargh a dangerous spirit?”

“Not a spirit. And Graargh himself is certainly not a danger to you. I would prefer not to go into more detail; the fewer ponies who know that Luna and I are pursuing this matter, the better. For the moment, let Graargh stay a bear cub, since he certainly seems to prefer that, and don’t worry about it further.”

I frowned a bit, fighting between my curiosity and respect for the fact that both immortal alicorns considered the issue important enough to get involved. It wasn’t without disappointment, but I let myself settle with the thought that I had enough issues on my plate without getting involved in some sort of ‘war in heaven’.

If only I had known…

Celestia rose from her seat and stretched her wings. “Well, Morty, it has been a pleasure to speak with you, and I hope to do so again when you reach Everfree City. Pick your battles well; if you irritate Cyclone about taking Blizzard with you, I very much doubt I’ll be able to fly back in time to help.”

On the spur of the moment, I replied with a rather bold offer. “If you wanted, you’d be welcome to join us.”

The proposition earned me a smile. “I appreciate the offer, but I have my reasons for giving you your space.”

“Is this about making me confront whether or not I want to learn from Diadem?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Celestia asked, though her grin told me I’d hit the point on the head. “For two thousand years I slept in nature, and now there’s a cloud bed with pegasus down pillows waiting for me. Safe travels.”

I nearly jumped a foot in the air when Graargh, still speaking as a tiny squeaky Celestia, shouted beside me. “How do magiiiiiiic?!”

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