Day 53: The Amelioration
Ponies laughed. Glasses clinked. A shot of hard liquor was poured for somepony who wasn’t there.
“Okay,” one of the artificers said, once the laughter died down. He turned to the pictures on the wall. They were neat rows of unframed black and white photographs, each stuck to the wall with drafting tape. They were all photos of ponies: at graduation ceremonies, laboring in workshops, even one criminal lineup where she held a sign that bore her name and the charges. Eyes scanned over them.
“Teague,” one of them said, pointing out the next picture in line. A photo of a Saddle Arabian stallion who wore a guild medallion, with a mare at his side and three kids around him. He wore the traditional saddle-cloth and halter, the cutie mark he chose for himself a quill and spinning wheel. “Did anypony know Teague?”
“I did,” one mare said. A journeymare, Spike realized, for her neck was decorated by two black bands instead of a full medallion. But her masters let her take the center of the engine room, and she cleared her throat.
“It’s, um…” She coughed, her glass floating by her side. “When I was an apprentice in Tawantinsuyu, he was assigned to our guild house, and I got the meet and greet job. You know, show him around, get him settled in the city, all that. And I’m a teenage silly filly and I’ve never met a Saddle Arabian before, much less a stallion. So he shows up and I’m all…”
She blushed and looked aside, and a gentle laugh ran through the room. “I swear I didn’t know he was married. So I’m showing him around the city, hitting on him with all the charm a fifteen year old can muster, and I don’t think he even notices. Finally, we get to the Garden of Things to Come, and he’s got to get rid of the decorations or they’ll be ruined by the steam. So he strips off that saddle cloth, and with the height difference it’s uh…”
She drew a line out from her eyes, and a smile appeared on her face. “And I blurt out, ‘You’re pretty eye level there aren’t you?’ And he turns to me with the most innocent face in the world and politely asks what that means, because he’s new here and doesn’t know all the local turns of phrase.”
More laughter circled the room, and her blush intensified. “What’d you tell him?” somepony called.
“What do you think I did?” The mare laughed. “I stammered something incoherent about Saddle Arabians resembling Princess Celestia and dragged him off before he could ask more. And then I found out he was married and I was so embarrassed about the whole day I avoided him for months until he got reassigned to the interior.” She gave a small shake of her head. “Which is too bad. The other apprentices told me he was one of the best teachers.”
A lengthy silence came over the room at that. Artificers stared into their glasses. Finally, the journeymare at the front lifted hers. “To Teague. I should have known you better.”
Glasses clinked. Everypony drank. A glass of liquor was filled for Teague and poured into the engine’s waste overflow chute. It flashed on contact, steam and a little tongue of flickering fire rolling out of the vent back into the engine room.
Spike stared at his untouched glass, swirling it slowly and watching the liquor inside slosh. “Did anypony else know him?” somepony asked. After a little while, when it became clear nopony did. The artificers’ gazes slowly returned to the pictures. A little yellow Equestrian pegasus was next. “Swift Key. Did anypony know her?”
Somepony did. They got up and started to tell a story about being her bunkmate on a zebrarian freighter during their training. Spike turned away, staring past her to the engine core.
It wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before. Crystal pony ships had no furnaces. Crystal pony ships had no coal. They did have boilers though. The core transmuted liquid water directly into steam using something called “crystallic mana induction” that Spike didn’t understand. He could still appreciate it though. The great crystal sphere rested in the ship’s center like a heart, thirty paces across and utterly flawless. Its surface was transparent, letting Spike see all the way through to where glowing blue rods criss-crossed the clear water within and bubbles boiled upwards.
He could hear the turbines too. There was no pounding or hissing or screeching like there was on Zebrarian ships. It was just a steady purr. The whole engine room reminded him of the crystal empire: big, quiet, elegant, and crafted entirely from shiny crystal. There was no dirt or coal dust on the floor, no team of sweaty earth ponies with shovels. There was only the core, and its purifying light, and there in its aura, the artificers’ wake.
“To Swift Key.” The mare finished her story. When Spike looked back at her, he could see her eyes were watering. “I should have listened to your stories.”
Glasses clinked. Everypony drank. A glass of liquor was filled for Swift Key. And another name was called.
“To Thunder Bolt. I should have been there when you needed me.”
“To Diaspora. I should have kissed you.”
“To Oxide Brush. You were a good artist. I should have told you.”
“To Double Tap. I should have appreciated all the little things you did.”
“To Leaf Dance. I should have gone on that walk.”
Sometimes the stories were funny, and ponies laughed. Sometimes they were sad, and the room lapsed into silence. Until finally, eyes went back to the board. “Cilia,” one pony said, the next picture that of a changeling in its natural form, frill and hole-filled legs and all. “Did anypony know him?”
“I did,” Spike blurted out before anypony else could speak. The room turned to stare at him. He didn’t get up. He just look down into his glass, and swirled the untouched liqueur.
“I was in Akhal-Teke when it all happened,” he said, his voice straining around the edges. “I just met him. He was there in the lineup with Teague and all the others. The others there told me to take him and get him to safety. But I didn’t think I could. I thought the Saddle Arabians would trust a changeling less.”
His claws scratched at his own scales, hard enough to leave scratches. His gaze stayed down hard, focused on the glass and nothing else. “I picked two Equestrians and a crystal pony instead. I thought it gave them the best odds of escaping. But everything all went wrong. And Cilia was still in chains so he couldn't change forms or fly away. And if he’d been the one I let go instead none of this would have happened and…”
His voice cracked. He struggled to go on. “I’m sorry.” Tears formed in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Silence hung over the room. Nopony knew what to do, and uncertain looks passed from one artificer to another. Finally, one of them stood up. A young earth pony stallion with a bright red coat, nearly pink, his mane frizzy and wild. He wore an Artificer’s pendant around his neck, and a small grey saddle cloth over his back. Spike could see his cutie mark: a heart and a pile of steel bars.
“Come on, kid,” he said, a hoof gently but firmly nudging Spike away from his glass and towards the door. “Let's go for a walk.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” Spike mumbled, as the new pony lead him from the room. “Please don’t tell Twilight I ruined the wake.”
“Not a word,” the stallion promised. He led Spike out of the engine’s pure light, and up the stairs to the deck. It was a new moon and the stars had come out, the crystal deck bathed in shadow. The surface was rough under Spike’s feet, the once smooth crystal sanded down so it was easier for hooves to grip. They were at the stern, and the artificer lead Spike up to the rail, looking back the way they’d come.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asked.
“Spike.” He sniffled quietly, rubbing away his tears. His voice was still shaking. “You?”
“Girder.” He let out a little breath, and patted Spike’s shoulder with a hoof. “You’re the Princess’s valet, aren’t you?”
“I’m her assistant.” He reached up to grip the rail with both claws. “I was visiting the guild house when I saw the guards rounding everypony up. And I thought, since we had diplomatic immunity, I could take a few of them out of the lineup. But we’re Equestrian. I thought it had to be ponies we could pretend were with us! I didn’t have any authority to do anything and I was just hoping nopony realized it and I messed everything up.”
“Were you doing what you thought would save the most ponies?” Girder asked gently, his voice quiet. Spike nodded. “Then you’re okay. That’s what Cilia would have wanted.”
“But I made a mistake!” Spike insisted, his voice torn. “I got ponies killed.”
“We all make mistakes, Spike. But you tried. That’s more than anypony else did.” Girder took in a slow breath and let it out. “And that’s something. And I don’t think Cilia would want you to beat yourself up over it. He always hated when ponies felt guilty around him.”
Silence hung between them a moment. They both looked away and off into the sea.
“When they chained him up, they didn’t run the chains through the holes in his legs, did they?”
“Huh?” It took a moment for Spike to turn his head, the reaction delayed. “No, I… I don’t think so.” He rubbed the tears out of his eyes. “I think they just used regular shackles. Does it matter?”
“The holes in a changeling’s legs are part of their respiratory system. If you stuff something into it, they can’t get enough air. So it’s ah…” Girder let out a weak, hollow little laugh. “It’s good they didn’t do that. I wouldn’t want him to be in any pain before…”
His jaw open and shut without finishing the sentence. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think he was in any pain.” Spike said, his voice cracking again as his pitch wavered up and down wildly. “I didn’t see what happened when the fight started. But it was all over so fast. I don’t think he ever felt what hit him.”
“Good.” Girder said, biting his lip and looking down at the propellers. “Good.”
A long stillness came over them. There was just the darkness, and the stars, and the smell of the sea and the churning propellers. Zansikar was behind them, lost over the horizon.
“How did you know him?” Spike asked.
“I asked him to marry me.” Girder laughed a little, and the sound wasn’t as hollow as it had been. It even went up to his eyes. “I was born in Equestria. I did my apprenticeship there. He was one of the other students. We all found out he was a changeling when we were pretty young, but the master wouldn't have it. He said the Guild allowed all comers no matter what the locals thought, and that if we breathed a word about it to anypony we’d all be ejected and banned from the organization. So it was our little secret. Just the four of us.”
Spike turned to face Girder properly, watching as he spoke. Girder glanced his way, and Spike gave the smallest of nods. Girder turned back to the sea. “So um…” He coughed. “We got to be teeangers. And you know how-wait. How old are you?”
“Dragons mature in a weird order,” Spike said quietly. “Intellectually I’m like, a young stallion?”
“Interested in romance yet? Noticing other dragons?”
“No. That won’t happen for a few decades. But, I know how all that works. Birds and bees and stuff. You won’t be corrupting my innocence.” He looked down. “Heh. Some of my friends from Ponyville are hitting that age now. They’re smart but it kinda makes them stupid sometimes.”
“It does! It does make you stupid.” He let out a long hiss of breath, and a smile touched his face. “So of course, when we were kids, we’d play games with him. Turn into this! Turn into that! And it was all good fun. But when we got older, it got a little more, ‘Turn into him!’ ‘Turn into her!’ But playing romance games with a changeling is a losing proposition. And soon enough, we were alone and I’d gone and wished myself flustered. And he uh… he was my first kiss. And my first love. Stupid hormonal teenage love, but, real love.”
Girder rubbed his face. “And he was good. I knew he was doing it because he needed love to survive. But it was a symbiotic thing. He was comforting and sweet. I was a real emotional teenager: angry and sad and bitter all the time. And he calmed me down. He saved me from doing a lot of stupid things. And when I didn’t want to have a certain conversation with my parents, he could be a very respectable mare for a few hours.”
“Heh.” Spike managed a very hollow laugh. “Wasn’t that a little weird?”
“Oh, it was super weird.” Girder licked his lips and smiled. “But, you know, changelings do need love to survive. More than one pony can give them. If you’ve ever seen a changeling feeding off of just one pony, that pony gets really sick really fast. So Cilia was in four or five relationships at any one time. All under different aliases so it wasn’t obvious. But he was our little love bug. And teenage me didn’t… appreciate, seeing my very special somepony kissing some mare. So I got angry, and then I got sad, and then asked him to marry me. Just the two of us. I didn’t care if I got sick.”
“And he told you no?”
“Of course he told me no,” Girder snorted. “Because even if that wasn’t a blatantly stupid plan, he actually did care about me and so he wasn’t going to be the instrument of my assisted suicide. And he told me that. But I didn’t want to hear it. I was so worked up. All I heard was, ‘I’m going to make you love me and then cheat on you whenever I want.’ And I said some things. Things you can’t take back.”
He lowered his head. “We made up. Kind of. I tried so hard to take it all back, but it was never the same. And when it was time for our journeys, we didn’t ask for the same assignment. I did my journey in Zebraria, he did his in Kiria. And then we got different postings, and we kind of drifted apart. I always wanted to see him again. You know. Maybe become friends. But it never ended up happening.”
Spike reached out and put a claw over Girder’s hoof. Girder looked down at him, and smiled. Then, with a theatrical flourish, he mimed the motion of pouring a glass over the side of the rail. “To Cilia,” he said. “I should have loved you for who you were, instead of trying to own you.”
“I should have saved you,” Spike said. He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. “Thanks, Girder. I’m sorry I messed up the wake.”
“You’re fine, kid,” Girder waved it off. “You’re just hurting like everypony else. Saddle Arabia hurt us all.”
“They did." Spike asked softly. Then, he abruptly added, "And now you’re going to get your revenge on them, aren’t you? You and your Water Palace and Orlovian friends.”
Girder frowned, his brow furrowing as he considered Spike. But he answered the question plainly: “Yeah. We will. Rivers will turn to blood, and the skies will rain fire. The gold’s gonna melt off the buildings and the cities that rose from the desert will return to the desert.”
“They haven't done anything,” Spike said, gripping the rail tighter. “The pony who hurt Cilia is dead. I was there. Her name was Inspector Pasha and Cobalt shot her. You’re only killing innocent ponies.”
“We’re not killing anypony. They’re killing themselves by starting a war they know they can’t win, and then snubbing the one group that might be able to help them.” Girder shrugged. “You think the Orlovians bother to consult us on their war policy? Like they’ll start a fight just because we ask them to? The only thing we ever hear from them is demands for more tools and complaints that everything is too expensive.” He said the last words with a sneering, nasal inflection and let out a snort.
“We’d have supplied Saddle Arabia just as well and just as much as their enemies. But they didn’t want us. Too proud and too superior. And now their pride is going to turn to poison in their veins. And they will die, and their empire will fall, and their precious golden age will come to an end. And everypony will say we were the villain, just because we saw it coming. But we tried to help them. We offered them a chance to renounce the old ways. It’s not our fault if they wouldn’t listen.”
Spike frowned. “Were you quoting that old fable on purpose?”
“What old fable?” Girder frowned back.
“You know.” Spike gestured back the way the ship had come. “The djinn who cursed King Al-Haifa.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s a Saddle Arabian...” Spike froze mid sentence. “Nevermind. Sorry. I just… I don’t want anypony else to get hurt.”
“Yeah. I know.” Girder shook his head. “Sorry. I know a got a little over the top, there. I’ve mellowed a little since I was a teeanger, but I guess I’m still kind of an angry pony.” His tail swished. “I think I’d forgive them though, if they wanted it. If they realized they made a mistake and stopped this whole thing. I may not be Equestrian anymore, but friendship is still magic.”
“That’s good, I guess.” Spike nodded. “I don’t think that’ll happen though.”
“No, I don’t think it will either.” He stepped back from the rail, and flicked his tail. “So why do you hang out with us jerks anyway? Not that I mind.”
“I was thinking of apprenticing with the Guild after Twilight’s trip is over.” Spike swallowed. He looked from Girder to the ship, then out to sea, weighing his words in his mind. “But I’m afraid.”
Girder tilted his head, ears askew. “Why?”
“None of you are what you were. Like you! You were born in Equestria, you know that friendship is magic. But you're not Equestrian anymore. An Equestrian would never condone what the Guild has done.” Spike’s tone picked up, and his words suddenly turned accusative. “They’d be disgusted with themselves for even considering it!”
Girder listened as Spike yelled, but his face remained impassive. “It’s true,” he finally said, with a certain amount of resignation. “Haven’t been back there in a long time. Don’t imagine it would really be my home anymore even if I did visit.” That gave him a moment’s pause. “Still. If it bothers you so much, why not join a local guild? Don’t let our reputation fool you, lots of the world’s best tinkers and engineers work local.”
“They…” Spike’s words slowed, and his volume dropped. “They don’t work on interesting projects.”
“They work on exactly the same equipment,” Girder said firmly. “In fact, a lot of the time they just buy our work and install it themselves. The Iron Crescent Rail and the Friendship Express are the same engine with some superficial modifications.”
“Yeah, but their machines aren’t…” He bit his lip. “Pretty.”
“Pretty?” Girder’s brow furrowed.
“Beautiful. I mean...” Spike said, stumbling through every word. “They aren’t… they don’t have that… something. Yours do. Yours are special.”
“Beautiful like a pony is beautiful?” Girder asked.
“Beautiful like the railroad is beautiful. How it twists the landscape around it and makes villages spring up by the tracks. Or like the new airship engines that could circle the world without stopping. Or like the telegraphs Twilight gets every day. Or like steam power or like ships the size of a city or like… this!” He gestured sharply back at the Amelioration behind them. “Like… I don’t know.”
“Oh.” Girder smiled, and a little half-laugh escaped him. “I’m sorry, kid. I hate to be the one to have to tell you this. But that’s because it’s not machines you’re in love with. That sweet, sweet scent you’re smelling is power.”
Spike’s motions slowed, and he stared up at Girder. “What do you mean?”
“Every local guild builds machines. They tinker and work and make things slightly better or more efficient. But where this symbol goes?” He reached up, and gestured at his medallion. “Forests are clearcut, mountains are leveled, cities rise from the dust, gravity is defied, and empires take to the waves. We make ponies rich and ruin nations. We change the world and shape it in a new image. That’s what’s got you on tiptoe.”
“No it… I mean. No you don’t.” Spike closed his hand and looked back up. “The ponies who pay you do that. You’re just mercenaries. You don’t control the end result.”
“So?” he asked, his tone even a little light, despite the lines around his eyes. “Haven’t you ever thought change was beautiful? Just for its own sake?”
For a moment, Spike hesitated. “I…” He drew the word out. “At Griffonstone. There were sawmills. And a lot of fresh construction. And ponies and a railroad and a bank and, I don’t know. It was nice.” He swallowed. “A lot changed.”
“And a lot will change tomorrow, and the day after that, until what was is gone, and there’s something new. And that new thing will in turn be changed, and destroyed, and remade. And it will never stop.” Girder flicked his tail back and forth. His ears perked up.
“It’s why we have to give it all up,” he finally said. “There are sacrifices you make when you join the International Guild. A guild master has no nation. He serves no princess or king. He carries no banners and honors no causes. Because Equestria, Celestia, princesses, nations, they believe power is a means to an end. Some of their ends are good, some of their ends are bad. But it all has to be for something.” He gestured at himself. “And that’s why the Friendship Express isn’t beautiful like Griffonstone is. Because no matter how much rail gets laid, Equestria will still be Equestria.”
“That’s wrong,” Spike insisted, his tone straining at the edges. “Power isn’t the point. It can’t be the point.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s how villians think, and because your machines kill ponies!” Spike snapped, a gout of fire shooting out of his mouth as he bellowed. Girder pulled away from Spike’s sudden outburst, his ears folding back. Spike jabbed an accusative claw at the ship behind them, its crystal deck bathed in the twilight. “Because that thing isn’t a work of art. Because it’s a weapon and it was built to kill ponies and because you’re destroying the world!”
It took Girder a moment to recover, and to slowly sit forward. He took a breath, and straightened his ears. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to upset you. And who knows? I’m not the best judge of character. Maybe I misread you entirely. Lots of ponies join local trade guilds, and are very happy. And if that’s what you want to do, I think that would be a very interesting apprenticeship for a talented young scholar.”
He reached up and rubbed his jaw. “But just take a bit of advice, okay? I spent a lot of my life worried about the pony I was supposed to be. Stressed and angry. Not asking questions in class because I was afraid of looking stupid in front of the masters. Hiding my real feelings from Cilia. Dragging a shapeshifter home and lying to my whole family because saying I liked stallions felt awkward. All it did was make me a miserable, unpleasant pony to be around.”
He waited a moment to see if Spike exploded again, but all the little dragon did was wrap his arms around himself. “There comes a time when you have to stop worrying about who you’re supposed to be and accept who you are.”
“I don’t want to be like you.” Spike’s tone wavered. “You’re an amoral mercenary who has no problems selling weapons to the highest bidder.”
“I’m an engineer and an artificer who wants to change the world,” he replied firmly. “It’s up to other ponies how they want it to be changed. But you know? Even if you do join the Guild, don’t worry.” He tapped his medallion once. “These things aren’t magic. They don’t eat your soul. There’s no ceremony where you sacrifice your love for Equestria. The Guild didn’t make me the way I am, I joined it because it fit me. Ponies who can’t deal with what we do just drop out and pursue other things. And it really is that simple. Whatever you end up doing, it’ll be right for who you are.”
Spike was quiet for a long time. “And what if who I am isn’t so good?”
Girder shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t figured that part out myself. But you’ll be in good company, and you’ll be amongst friends. And you’ll be happy. Even if those friends are amoral mercenaries.” He added a snort.
“Yeah.” Spike swallowed. “Yeah. Sorry. I totally… you didn’t deserve that. It’s been a stressful trip and I—”
“Kid,” Girder held up a hoof. “It’s fine. Really. I’ve been there. Sometimes you’re hurting and you just need to be a jerk for a bit. No harm done.” He lowered his head to look Spike in the eye. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “I think I’m going to go back to Twilight now though, if that’s okay.”
“I think that’s a very good idea.” He turned back to the ship, and Spike headed off with him until they came to their fork in the path. “Good night, Spike.”
Where Girder went down into the depths of the ship, Spike went up to the elevated second deck, and the officer’s quarters therein. Twilight’s room was second from the end, and he reached up to grip the handle. “Twilight?” he called, but when the door slid open, the room was dark.
“Twilight?” he called again. “Are you uh… did you just turn the lights out to watch the stars again?” There was no response. He could see her outline in bed. “Twilight, are you awake? I really need to talk to you.”
She stirred briefly, but then fell back asleep. Spike bit his lip, and then stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him. Feeling around in the dark, he eventually found the little pile of blankets that served as his basket. He curled up inside it, and shut his eyes.
But sleep would not come.
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First!
7672085
Hooray!
Now tell me what you thought of it.
7672093
Fucking Brilliant.
Spike was very mature, and I liked how you described changlings, with the holes being a way to breath.
So basically, Spike both does and does not want to become Niv-Mizzet.
7672168
Wow, that is an obscure reference. I haven't heard that name in awhile.
The war on oil and coal stil are very active to this day
I think Spike is, in many ways, completely right about the Guild. It's an amoral force of change, doing things because they can and not often bothering to think if they should, or what their customers will use their engines and contraptions for.
At the same time, I think that every individual Engineer we've seen has been a pretty okay person. Which just reinforces how, if we're not careful, a lot of good and decent people can, for what seem like entirely fair reasons for each of them on the individual level, end up collectively doing things that are pretty bad, sometimes even outright evil.
I wonder if the story ends up with Twilight taking the rest of the Mane Six up to Moon, to blast the whole damn planet with Orbital Friendship Deathray...
7672643 His claimed aims (feeding and protecting his people) are aims, conquering other nations are the only means available to him to achieve those aims.
And I think betraying Saddle Arabia is a bit rich. Deep State is giving them a warning as an inducement to avoid war. Surely they know about the deadly fleet of the Water Palace that would obliterate the coastal cities of Zansikar if Zansikar went to war on their side, but Saddle Arabia was willing to let that happen in their grand quest to fight necromancy. Saddle Arabia had apparently written off large portions of Zansikar as acceptable collateral damage to their foreign policy, and now Deep State is returning the favor.
My own computer is currently out of order (the part that will hopefully fix it is supposed to arrive tomorrow), so I might have less commentary than usual. Still, if nothing else, I ought to enjoy reading this. :)
[checks]
Ah, so Teague was in that line…
"clear nopony did. The artificers’ gazes"
"did, the"?
"Key.” The mare finished"
"Key," the"?
[checks]
As was Cilia…
"just look down into his"
"looked"?
"Sorry.” Spike mumbled"
"Sorry," Spike"?
"new moon and the stars had come out"
"moon, and"?
"any pain.” Spike said"
"pain," Spike"?
"Good.” Girder said, biting"
"Good," Girder"?
"We all found out he was a changeling when we were pretty young, but the master wouldn't have it."
Is something missing here? Currently it seems to say that the guild master wouldn't have them finding out, which doesn't seem to match the following text.
"teeangers"
"teenagers"?
"But, I know how"
"But I"?
"did." Spike asked softly."
"did," Spike said softly."?
"Then, he abruptly added"
"Then he"?
"the buildings and the cities"
"buildings, and"?
"Inspector Pasha and Cobalt shot"
"Pasha, and"?
"I know a got a little over"
"know I got"?
"forgive them though"
"them, though"?
"The Iron Crescent Rail"
"Railway"?
"like the telegraphs Twilight gets"
"telegrams"?
"reached up, and gestured"
"up and"?
…Yeah, maybe telling the intelligent and politically very well-connected dragon to cast off his morals and embrace his lust for power for power's sake is not the very best idea…
"Kid,” Girder held"
"Kid." Girder"?
7674386
I'm not so sure about that. Girder is right that Spike worrying so much about what he should do, as opposed to what he wants, will make him miserable. It would be hard for Spike not to recognize that after Akhal-Teke. Spike has repeatedly gotten screwed over for doing what he thought Twilight wanted, while doing what he personally wanted seems to have always been the right decision.
At this point, Twilight seems principled while the Guild seems powerful. Spike is being thrown into a position where he feels he has to decide between the two, and he really needs both. Girder is telling Spike that he can have both by apprenticing, then dropping out if the power threatens to become amorality. The questionable claim is that Spike can keep his integrity after joining the Guild, and that he'll actually drop out if he finds the Guild is changing him in ways he wouldn't like upon reflection.
Spike really needs that power, if only so he can do a better job being principled, but he's afraid that power will turn to pride, and that pride to poison in his veins. Once you acquire a lifestyle of progress, scale, growth, and power, it is difficult to go back.
But he really needs it.
7674790
I agree that a position with more power and without a loss of morals would be better for Spike, yes, and that joining the Guild and then dropping out might give that; I was more referring to the earlier parts of the conversation, though, before dropping out was mentioned, and in any case, as you say, there's the question (which I imagine he's asking or will ask himself too) of whether he'd be able to get to the point where he should drop out without losing the desire to.
I love the guild, and I hope Spike joins it in the end.
pendant, sir
7677141
You don't know for sure. Maybe he just really likes sports.
Ahem. Corrected! Thanks much.
We are waiting
7747673
Two chapters are currently being edited! Another three are being cleaned up for editing. All that's left after that is the epilogue. :)
7744379 "no one could predict the greed of humankind that came from gold" a quote from unknown thinker
*cracks knuckles* Alright, let's do this. I just finished dragging myself through another story I didn't enjoy, and being able to come to this as a palate cleanser was my reward-to-self.
Oh man, everything about this chapter. I can't even decide what to quote for truth. The wake, the changeling headcanon, the power discussion, Spike growing up. Spike growing up. Among other things, this is quite possibly the finest Spike-growing-up story I've read on this site.
Why must you already be in the Royal Canterlot Library?
This is a hell of a chapter. Echoing horizon on not knowing what exactly to quote. The whole chapter I was comparing to the Spike of day 7, who looked to the Guild for advice because he thought they were smart, knowledgeable ponies. The Spike who acquired a guild medallion is not the Spike of this chapter. He's seen too much of what the guild's creations can do, and too much of the kinds of things ponies in power use it for.
I worry that the Equestrian view of the world is clouding both Twilight and Spike's judgement. It's easy to fall into the trap of painting people in black and white. Chain Link is good. Deep State is a monster. The Saddle Arabians are good. Orlovians are evil. Guildsponies are amoral mercenaries. Girder does some of this as well - Saddle Arabians must be evil, since they hurt his friends. The world doesn't work that way outside of Equestria. The Orlovians are necromancers, but they have a rich history and their people are being oppressed. Chain Link was a good pony, operating inside an oppressive regime. The Saddle Arabians have good principles, but in the pursuit of defending themselves from evil, are killing innocents. The Guild wants to change the world, and many of their inventions make life better. But they also give power to ponies who can and do use it for ill. Deep State is willing to conquer a whole nation in a bloody war, but he is doing so because joining the losing side of a war will get his people killed.
Nopony in the whole story is wholly good or evil, not even Celestia. Putting people into boxes is going to get our heroes in trouble.
Hm. Spike and his temper are too young for the level of power and influence he's been granted.