Pandemic: Stirrings in the World of Human Magi

by Corascal

Les Affaires Familiales

Nineteen Days after ETS Pandemic Begins

Marguerite Poirier’s late grandmother’s study was a large room with thick Persian carpets, floor-to-ceiling dark-wood bookshelves along the walls, a floor globe tucked in the corner that glinted with recent polish, an old stone fireplace, and a pair of elderly electric lamps that would help fill the room in a warm glow in the evenings and nights. Marguerite’s three favorite features were the trio of hand-carved chairs with lion paws for feet and velvet feather-cushioned seats, the immense desk, and the large sunlight-flooding window behind it, that could open up to a balcony that gave a magnificent view of the Poirier estate, filled with meadows, forests, and a short path to the warm Mediterranean Sea.

Marguerite Poirier had worked very hard to be named the successor of her grandmother’s estate and stature as head of the Poirier Magic Family, which made this study hers.

When she turned seven, as was tradition for most Magi Families, she was given instruction on the process of not only breaking the First Lock on her magic, but also on how to convert a chosen body part into a magic focus to cast spells. She distinguished herself by converting all ten of her fingers, thus enduring months of painful circulation and concentration of magic that would force most mages to settle for two to four fingers. Since then, she endured long nights in order to study the centuries of the accumulated wisdom of human magi as well as early mornings in order to practice whatever magic she was able to perform.

But scattered all over the desk in front of her were reminders to the sprawled-out and groaning young lady of seventeen as to the myriad reasons why scientists, with their theoretical and/or technical knowledge, rarely made for practical politicians.

Give her enough chalk and a few blackboards, and she could explain in complete detail how a ley line operates and is maintained, using the one her own house sat on and her family maintained as an example of what kind of influences age, geography, climate, human population and general mood could have on a ley line. But tell her to mediate between the bickering Gossier and Merle branch families situated in Breton on who had more right to more power coming from the same ley line that fueled both families’ magic for generations, like the spread of files and papers under her left arm were stating, she would instantly draw a blank.

Under her right arm were a series of missives from French Caledonia requesting more resources in order to deal with aquatic chimeras that had escaped into the Pacific Ocean over two years ago. To her left were a series of reports detailing discovered intrusions into the De Verley branch family estate in French Guiana, namely stolen research regarding alchemical manipulation of stem cells.Mixed in with those reports were messages from a deep agent in Siberia investigating the Rasputin-branched Yakovlev family’s experiments at the site of the infamous Tunguska Event of 1908. To her right were more reports regarding the status of ongoing priority experiments and research, the finances of the various branches as a whole, etc.

But as she lifted her head up, she could only glower at what was dominating the front and center of her massive, centuries-old, hand-carved, wooden, crystal-topped desk. Sitting there was an unorganized pile of files, papers, documents, and portfolios that painstakingly detailed everything that the Poirier family had been able to gather regarding the global headache that had swept the world known as ‘Equine Transformation Syndrome.’ Analysis showed that the largest numbers of those affected were in America and China, while Russia was suspected to have been similarly impacted. Europe took less of a hit, as did both Latin America and Africa, while Australia had suffered the least fallout.

What perturbed her the most was how much they really didn’t know about how the spell worked. The Springers had told everyone that they had detected the wide-reaching spell a week before its effects had become known to the public. Dissecting the magic itself, however, proved to be a far more strenuous task, as the underground human magic society quickly learned that it was far and out the most advanced spell they had ever come across. When everyone learned about the presence of the Equestrian ponies – Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer and the like – they were relieved that none of the human factions had been responsible, but apprehensive in that the truth about magic had been revealed.

While the human magi were grateful that the Princess of Friendship (there were more than a few double takes at that piece of information) had revealed a broad explanation of how the ETS pandemic had worked, they were vexed in how they were unable to glean further information without risking exposure. This was due to the multitude of government officials and ordinary people transformed into ponies who were now more susceptible to noticing magic than ever. This meant they were unable to get their hands on the firsthand research notes and equations that had been used to devise both the original spell and the counterspell. Essentially, what they were left with in order to dissect the spell was the equivalent of a middle-school textbook diagram of a jet engine, which is useful for explaining the concept, but practically useless for building one.

The transformation spell was a source of perpetual fascination for Marguerite Poirier, but simultaneously frustrated her to no end. And it certainly didn’t help the poor girl that she had personal stakes in this affair.

She heard a knock at the door to her office.

She shot up in her seat like a spring to glare at the door with blazing eyes. “I TOLD YOU I’M BUSY MAURICE!” she pitched the pen she’d been using to write down her thoughts in her notebook across the room into the door, making a very unsatisfying *thunk* against the wood before hitting the floor in a muffled *thud*. “IF I NEED YOUR HELP, I’LL CALL FOR YOU!”

“Marguerite,” a soft female voice emanated from behind the door. “We know you’ve been stressed for a while now. That’s why your father and I would like to help you. So, could you let us in, please?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Alright. Just a moment.” Marguerite relaxed herself slightly, and pushed herself out and up from her desk and chair. She smoothed the wrinkles in her white blouse and blue jacket, straightened out her navy blue maxi skirt and neatened her ponytail. Then she crossed the room in shiny black buckle shoes and long white socks with nervous steps to the door. After sucking in a couple deep breaths to calm herself, she laid her hand upon the knob and turned it to open the door.

She remembered looking up at her mother’s rich and smooth brown hair that swayed like long grass in a gentle breeze, long and delicate arms tipped in the fingers of a violinist, a thin form and legs like a birch tree, and a fair and gentle face set with emerald eyes and that smiled like the crescent moon. Her father was a large, ruggedly handsome man like the finest of French farmers, with unruly pitch black hair, a muscled and broad body from his neck to his fingers and his toes, a pair of rich hazel eyes amidst a façade that could switch from resembling a mountainside to a saint or vice versa depending on his mood.

Now, however, she looked down at a pair of ponies, that all at once looked nothing like how they used to but still resembled them so much it hurt. Her mother, Apolline, was now a unicorn mare that somehow kept the same dainty figure, accompanied by a bright white coat and rich blue hair that flowed like water down her neck with a Stradivarius violin decorating her haunches, and a pair of amethyst eyes set in a delicate face. Her father, Legrand, was now a stocky and broad-shouldered dark gray stallion with a cornucopia on his flanks, a short mane of black hair that sprung from his head and a pair of bright blue eyes.

Although magi weren’t transformed by the plague due to their general immunity to sickness, Apolline had the dual misfortune of being born with a mutation that prevented her from unlocking her magic and being the victim of a magical poison from an unknown perpetrator only two weeks ago, rendering her vulnerable to the plague. Legrand on the other hand was an ordinary man who had fallen in love with her mother, and after soap opera levels of drama, succeeded in marrying into the family.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence, as Marguerite reminded herself that these two ponies were indeed her mother and father, and as her parents reconciled themselves to the fact that their daughter was now taller than they were much sooner than they were expecting. When it passed, Marguerite simply stood to the side and opened the door wider for the two of them to walk in, their hooves clopping softly on the old carpet. After guiding the door shut, Marguerite brought herself to where her parents had seated themselves on two of the room’s three free chairs with all four hooves on the seat as if they had been doing it all their lives. Brushing off that uneasy observation, Marguerite stood by the third chair.

“Would you like me to ask Maurice to come bring us some coffee and pastries?” she asked her parents nervously. “Or if you like, perhaps wine and some cheese?”

“Thank you, but not now, Marguerite,” Apolline waved her hoof casually. “We were actually rather concerned about you.”

“Why would you need to be?” she smiled graciously. “I mean, sure there’s been a lot of things happening and I’ve had to work my butt off with Maurice to deal with it all, but I think I’m handling it well enough.”

“Frankly, I don’t think you are,” Legrand rumbled.

She turned to him. “What makes you say that?”

Despite his reduced size, his eyes were just as intimidating to the girl as ever. “First of all, aren’t you the one who told me how you knew whenever things weren’t right just by the way I was talking and smiling?”

“Oh,” she let her smile fade.

He continued, “Second, it’s not what you’re doing that has us worried. We’ve always been very proud of everything you’ve done because you do them so well.”

“Then why did you come to talk to me?” Marguerite asked confusedly.

“Because you haven’t been coming to talk to us lately,” her mother answered.

Marguerite was taken slightly aback as she realized that she indeed hadn’t done so.

Her mother continued. “You never hesitated to come to us whenever you had a problem before. When you were going through the facilitation for your magic, you always came to me when you couldn’t bear the pain.”

“When Rupert Beauregard came over the first time,” her father relayed, drudging up both unwanted and beloved memories in Marguerite’s mind. “You came to me to learn how to deal with him.”

“We could go on for a long time with this,” her mother stepped down from her chair and came up to Marguerite. “Our point is that we know from experience when something is going wrong in your life.” She punctuated her point by laying a hoof on Marguerite’s lap, causing the girl to shrink back just the smallest bit.

Her father spoke again. “We know we haven’t been around much over the past month, with your mother’s orchestra schedule and my field work.” He got down from his seat and came forward as well. “But as soon as your grandmother passed and you were named the family head, you didn’t come to us to talk about anything. And when we started transforming into ponies, the most you did was check up on us and avoid talking about anything that worried you.” He set his own hoof down next to her mother’s. “Please. We know you’re going through some tough times. Help us help you.”

Marguerite just looked at her mother and father look up at her imploringly with the all-too-real cartoon equine faces that had replaced the ones that she had been looking up at since her infancy. She couldn’t help but reflect upon how ridiculous this scene appeared to be, but there was no denying the lurch in her heart, as she realized how much she had hurt them in spite of her efforts to do otherwise. She could only bow her head.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just that I felt like I’d been thrown in the deep end of the swimming pool when grandmother died and she named me head in her will, and then the both of you were tossed in as well when you were infected. I just didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“We know, and we appreciate that,” her mother smiled angelically as she tilted Marguerite’s face up to hers. “But we love you too much to just let you go so soon. And even after we let you go, we’re still never going to stop worrying about you.”

“We know you’re under a lot of stress,” her father stood on his hind legs and rested his forelegs like arms on her shoulders, drawing Marguerite’s attention. “But that’s why we want to help you. So just tell us what’s bothering you, and we’ll help as much as we can.”

Marguerite was comforted by what they said, and gave a small smile, that exuded her relief, and a hint of discomfort. “Thanks, both of you. But, um, I’m still not quite used to you being ponies, so could you maybe stop climbing all over me?”

“Oh, sorry,” the two pony parents apologized simultaneously, as they unlatched themselves from their human daughter, and then returning to their seats.

Marguerite steadied herself once again, and then addressed her parents, but didn’t face them. “Now, the reason I avoided talking to you so much is because I feel so much like I failed the both of you. I failed to prevent you from being infected and I failed to decipher this curse in time to undo it. And I’ve seen the research - this spell changes a person in both body and mind.” She saw her two parents glance uncomfortably at that. “I was scared that, if I stayed and talked to you, you wouldn’t be the same Mama and Papa I’ve always loved, and that scared me. A lot.”

She looked up at the both of them and smiled wide. “But, I’m glad that I was wrong. Your still just as touchy and overprotective as you ever were.”

Her parents smiled at that. “Thank you for that,” her mother said, a hoof on her heart.

“That was very good to hear,” her father intoned.

Marguerite nodded, but then let her smile fade away. “Unfortunately, I’ve got other worries on my mind. Worries that could affect the entire Poirier family forever.”

“I’m guessing that you’re not the only magi whose worrying herself ragged over-” she gestured to her body, “all this.”

“Yes,” Marguerite replied, slipping back into her role as the Poirier family head. “I think it goes without saying, but this spell has literally spread over the entire world. Not only will there be a permanent population of hundreds of millions of ponies that will irrevocably reshape the global political, economic, and social spheres, but the secret of magic is pretty much out of the bag.”

“You mean the Families have been discovered?” her father asked.

Marguerite shook her head. “No, and thank God for that. I mean, thanks to all the ponies, the world now knows that magic is real. For now, what this means is that all magi will have to become a lot more discreet regarding how and where we use our magic because the public is going to be a lot more susceptible to it. But that’s not the best part by a long shot.”

Her father tilted his head in curiosity. “What’s that?”

Marguerite stood up from her chair and walked over behind her desk, and opened a drawer in the middle, where she pulled out a small, flat sheet of pure gold, before returning to her seat. Her parents looked on in disbelief at the metal she had brought out, for while they were long used to the sight of magic, neither were still used to the casual displays of wealth that were inherent in the politics of the Family Affairs. Ignoring their stares, Marguerite simply pressed right index finger to the center of the top of the gold plate, and allowed a sky blue aura to encompass her finger. A golden aura emerged where she pressed her digit and spread over the gold sheet, causing the metal to indent itself in the form of words.

Marguerite looked at the Latin script and read it along in her native French so that her parents could understand it:

“Addressed to the Esteemed Head of the Most Ancient and Privileged Family of the Poiriers, Marguerite Jeanne Poirier.

“This is your Most Noble Invitation to the Concurrence of the Tenth Magic Council in the Sanctum Magia at the Time of Noon on XX/XX/XXXX for the Sake of Representing the Collected Interests and Knowledge of your Lineage. You are Encouraged to Arrive the Day Prior so as to Become Familiar with your Accommodations and Prepare Yourself for Mutual Dialogue.

“May Fate and Good Fortune smile upon You.

“Crafted and Issued by the Most Eminent Head of the First Ancient and Privileged Family of the Cavallos, Matteo Tiberius Cavallo.”

When she was finished reading, she turned off her magic, the glow fading from her finger, and the aura around the golden tablet ceased as well, causing it to revert to its original state. After a moment of silence, her father spoke up: “Well, he sure sounds high and mighty.”

Marguerite sighed. “Because he IS high and mighty. The head of the Cavallo Family is over six hundred years old and the most powerful magi in the world. But enough about him. The important part is that a new Magic Council is about to be held, the most important political gathering in the entire magic society, and I’m supposed to represent the Poirier Family when I’ve only been head for less than a month.”

Legrand replied, “I had a thought. Since this is the Tenth Magic Council, and I’ve been lacking in an education on the history of magic, what were the other nine about? And why have them in the first place?”

It was Apolline who responded. “Since the whole of magic society is bound together by a set of written and unwritten rules, sometimes events happen of such magnitude that the rules require revisiting and, if need be, revising. Also, since it’s the heads of the most powerful Families of the time who gather to make such decisions, they are also held very rarely so as to avoid trouble with the other Families or even the Outliers.”

Legrand nodded, understanding the reasoning, and then his wife continued. “The first Council was held in 1348 during the Black Death that swept Europe. The Second took place in 1453, after the Ottomans seized Constantinople and ended the Byzantine Empire. The Third in 1523, during the Protestant Reformation. Fourth in 1648, after the Treaty of Westphalia ended the Thirty Years War. Fifth in 1815, after the end of the Napoleonic Wars. Sixth was in 1919 after the conclusion of World War I, and the Seventh in 1945 after World War II ended. The Eighth was convened in 1963 after the Cuban Missile Crisis nearly brought about World War III, while the Ninth was held in 1992, after the Cold War ended and the Soviet Union dissolved.”

“Okay,” Legrand said uncomfortably. “I guess there’s a lot of history I missed, but I don’t think you needed to be that thorough.”

Apolline huffed. “That was just an overview of the Councils that actually happened. They almost decided to hold the Tenth Council in 2001 after 9/11 or in 2017 during the Right-Wing Resurgence, but after holding four councils in one century, they decided to hold off until something more serious happened.”

“Like the pony flu,” Legrand stated.

“Yes, like the pony flu,” Marguerite moaned. “But here’s what’s really important about the Magic Councils. They are the only time when all the Family Heads gather in one place. It’s more than just a gathering, it’s a political battleground. It’s where old and new members of the Family Affairs get to officially acquaint themselves with one another, and get a measure on who they’re up against. Alliances and rivalries are born at this Council, fortunes are made and broken, and the entire balance of power among the Families can be completely upended in that time.”

Her father and mother paused as they contemplated what they had just been told. It was Apolline who spoke up. “You shouldn’t fret too much over it. You’ve always risen up to the challenge before, what’s so different this time?”

Marguerite’s fingers clenched tighter on the gold tablet, and would have caused impressions if the tablet hadn’t been magically enhanced. She opened her mouth to speak, but then a knock was heard on the door.

“Might I come in, Madame?” came the voice of Maurice.

Marguerite relaxed her grip, and responded. “Yes. Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Maurice Depinay, a tall and thin man always dressed in a gray business suit with a black button down shirt and white necktie and brown loafers, with a serene, slightly wrinkled face below salt-and-pepper hair and gray eyes. He was the modern image of a distinguished gentleman, and he was a close friend and advisor to Marguerite’s grandmother.

“So, uh, what brings you, Maurice?” Marguerite stammered.

“I was just checking in on your parents when I found they weren’t in their rooms,” he replied, as he stood next to Marguerite. “Considering how often they talk about you whenever I happen to be around them in the years I’ve known them, I believed that they would come here to look for you, since you’ve become the Poirier family head and this was Angeline’s old study and office.”

“Say, Maurice,” Legrand spoke up, hesitantly, getting Maurice’s surprised attention. “Maybe you can help us out here with our daughter.”

“Oh?” Maurice pondered, raising an eyebrow. “You’re asking me of all people for help?”

“Don’t get started with that,” Apolline intervened. “Marguerite is worried about the new Magic Council being held in a few days. This doesn’t particularly fall within our experience as her mother and father. But you’ve been at her grandmother’s side since before even the Ninth Council.”

“Ah,” Maurice realized, as he relaxed his stance and placed his hands on his hips. “I see what you mean. So, Marguerite,” he addressed the girl.

She looked up at him. “Yes?”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled warmly – something to which her father’s mouth twisted in reaction. “Allow me to tell you with the utmost confidence that you’re overthinking this.”

Marguerite blanked for a moment. “Huh?”

The man snickered. “I remember serving as your grandmother’s advisor at the Ninth Council over thirty years ago. She may have been much older at the time than you are now and had more experience, but she worried herself ragged over this just as much you are now. But do you want to know what she learned there?”

“No, what?” Marguerite asked.

He held up both hands in a shrug as he walked to her opposite side, her gaze following. “That the other Family Heads are people, just like you. They all go with their hopes and worries and expectations, preparing to do verbal battle with veritable monsters and superhumans. What they find when they arrive is just a bunch of old people reliving their glory days, middle-aged men and women enduring mid-life crises, and a few young bloods wet behind the ears who are pounding their chests to try showing they mean business.”

Marguerite stared up at Maurice as she digested his words, before speaking. “So what you’re saying is that the whole thing is just pomp and circumstance?”

Maurice just smirked, and patted her on the head, with Legrand gritting his teeth at the sight of it. “Oh make no mistake, there are real consequences to any missteps made at the Magic Council. But your mother is absolutely right about you. You’ve always risen to the challenge, and that is one of the best traits you inherited from your grandmother, and the main reason she chose you to succeed her.”

“You really think so?” Marguerite asked in wonder.

He placed his hand on his heart, and knelt down. “I am your senior advisor, Madame Poirier. And, to put it in a rather cliché manner, allow me to respond with, ‘I know so.’”

Marguerite instantly felt lighter after hearing him say that, and she smiled. Though a quick look behind the man showed her ponified father glaring murderously at the old man.

“Thank you, Maurice,” she said. Then, to settle things before they got out of hand, she got up and walked to her desk, where she put the invitation back in the drawer.

“Thank you all for helping me. Although, I could use some lunch right now. Anyone else up for that?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” her father said with more than a little false cheer as well asrelief, as he got down from his seat, his wife following suit.

“It’s wonderful,” Apolline said. “We haven’t had lunch as a family in a while.”

Maurice headed over to the door. “Unfortunately for me, I’ve already had lunch and I have other work to attend to, so I won’t be joining you.” He opened the door, and turned and waved at the others. “Enjoy your mealtime. I will see you later when I need you.” He walked out, but left the door open for them.

“If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon,” Marguerite heard her father grumble.

“Don’t do this again now, honey,” his wife nudged him. “Don’t let him spoil your mood.”

“Sorry, dear,” he replied.

Marguerite headed over and opened the door for the two of them.

“You know,” her mother said. “You don’t have to open every door for me, Marguerite. I can play the violin with my hooves and horn, so I can certainly open a door.”

“I know,” Marguerite said. “I just wanted to.”

With a grin on all of their faces, the three family members walked out the door, and Marguerite closed it behind them.

Author's Note:

*The chapter title translates to 'The Family Affairs.'*

Just a quick note: these stories are not going to be told in chronological order, if you haven't already noticed.

Leave honest comments below!

Comments

[BF110C4]

Nice way of adding some exposition on the Councils without it sounding out of place, the fact that it also helped humanize the members so that the young prodigy Marguerite wasn't feeling nervous was a nice bonus. On the mechanics of human magic we learned that mages need to unlock their magic when young and then transform part of their bodies in foci to channel it, and to do so the process is extremely painful to the point that most can't or won't make the effort to do it for all fingers.

Are there other parts of the body that are used for channeling magic? Without an understanding of what kind of magics there are available Its hard to tell if any other piece of the body would be practical, such as having the forehead for mind magics or the back for rituals.

[Corascal]

8744104
Effectively, one can make as many parts of the human body become foci for magic, but you would have to endure more pain over longer periods of time to do so.

The pain also grows the older someone gets, which is why this is done when someone reaches the age of reason, when a person can conscionably make such a choice on their own while the pain threshold is low enough to allow a child to do it.

As for why fingers, because humans are a generally “hands-on” species and reformatting one’s whole hand is generally considered a waste of time and unnecessary pain.

The trade off for the pain, however, is that more foci leads to being able to better handle more raw power, more complex magic, and a greater ability to utilize multiple spells at once.

Also, different kinds of magic being used exclusively or especially from different body parts is more a matter of personal style than empirical effect.

[ASGeek2012]

This chapter is definitely better use of exposition.

Doing chapters out of chronological sequence is not bad, but it is risky. So long as the sequence of events in the story appears logical, you should be okay,

[Corascal]

8869376
The chapters may be out of chronological sequence, but they still follow a sequence, one that was revealed in the first chapter.