Tales from Everfree City

by LoyalLiar

15-1 A Week in the Life

XV

A Week in the Life

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

XV - I

A Celestial Lesson

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

Shame on me for, having just finished a 'tale' focusing on my own perspective, to launch into another. However, we have reached a point in the story where the cascade of on-rolling cause-and-effect is no longer chained together day-by-day. And in order to tell you the next story that matters, I first have to cover quite a lot of small things that happened in-between my spat with Star Swirl and where that chain of more-or-less linear events picks up next. All of the following events did happen, but I am trimming some of the 'causal fat', as it were, in order to avoid having to tell nine different stories to get these points across. Thus, if I appear much more magically or socially adept at the end of this tale than at its beginning, I will remind the reader: the described events took place over almost several weeks of real time, and during that time I was inhabiting between two and four bodies simultaneously, and for the majority of that time for each of those bodies, I was experiencing a three-fold time compression courtesy of Archmage Hourglass, and further, during that time I mostly didn't sleep.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

We begin on a Monday, the day after my trial. I hadn't actually slept, having spent the night alone in the house's 'tea room', which I had begun converting into a purpose-dedicated chamber for my growing schedule of seances. The act of decorating, the blending of practical magical concerns, drama, and comfort for those likely suffering or mourning was sophisticated enough to distract me—if only because I let myself pursue every flight of fancy that struck me, from candles which would levitate when lit (and wouldn't actually burn, casting magical light instead of flame) to the placement of the furniture to leave a natural space for the visible ghost atop a chair that would even be 'solid' to them, and even a self-propelling, levitating tea cart (the lack of wheels solely because one had been squeaky, and I couldn't be bothered to find grease for it).

All this, though, I did in the body of a candlecorn. So when I tell you that I woke in my bed, you should understand that my body awoke, whereas I only experienced the brief disorientation of having moments before been downstairs, and suddenly finding myself prone in an extremely comfortable bed.

The door cracked about three seconds later, which was two seconds slower than the golems that usually attended to my flesh-and-blood body when I awoke. And so, I was surprised to find that rather than rolling itself, the cart that carried my breakfast was pushed by Gale, clad in a black-and-white servant's outfit that would have been scandalous even for a baroness, let alone the seated queen. I had to do a double-take before my freshly-awoken mind caught up with what I was seeing.

"I'm not in the mood, Metamorphosis," I noted, stirring.

The changeling grinned, not forsaking Gale's facade. For emphasis, she drew in a long breath through Gale's nostrils. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Morty, but… you really are."

I lit my horn idly. She winced, and in a green flash, reverted to the appearance of the schoolteacher, Aspirations. "Alright! Sorry! Look, I was just hungry. You know I can't exactly go out harvesting right now." With her hoof, she lifted a silver cloche from a squared-off white plate. "The Professor told me what this was called, but I'm gonna be honest: I don't actually know most of the fancy food names. There's eggs, two different baked things, and a whole lot of fruit. Oh, and the orange juice has champagne in it."

"How's Graargh's Equiish?" I asked as she carried the food over to my bedside.

"Hmm…" She began, before winking. "Give me a kiss and I'll tell you."

I let myself roll my eyes exceptionally visibly. "Is a peck on the cheek really going to feed you?"

"No," she answered, then grinned mischeviously. "Kiss me like Gale likes it."

I huffed in frustration, then grabbed her by the neck with my magic and slammed her into the nearest unadorned section of wall. Only narrowly did I manage to catch the plate of Vow's lovingly crafted breakfast and corresponding mimosa before they hit the floor of the bedroom. I took my time sauntering over to the pinned and somewhat worried changeling before I pressed my lips to hers—at first meeting resistance, then pulling away the moment she started to reciprocate. Still holding her pinned to the wall, I treated myself to a bite of a huckleberry kolache, then kissed her again. When I pulled away a second time, I noted "Sorry, but the breakfast is better."

"Mhhmm…" she let go before I finally released her. "Sweet Chrysalis, that's…" Then, drawing in a breath through clenched teeth (that I briefly noticed betrayed more 'fangs' than Aspirations' real mouth surely contained), she let her shoulders fall in satisfaction. "You're faking that much confidence?"

"Who said anything about faking?" I asked with a quirked brow, before draining a bit of my fizzy orange juice. "I would have thought you'd question if that was how Gale likes it."

"I can taste it, remember?" Aspirations stepped forward, rather boldly putting a hoof on my shoulder, and frowned when I pulled away. "Don't worry. In a weird, horny way, it's sweet."

"Sweet as in sugar, or sweet as in endearing?"

Metamorphosis chuckled. "The infiltration officers used to say we're the reason that word has both those meanings in Equiish. Love that makes you say 'that's sweet' tastes that way. So in your case, the fact you're putting on an act for her even though you don't really 'get it' is both kinds of sweet. In a naive, puppy-love kind of way."

"You're overstepping your bounds," I warned the changeling.

"Well excuse me, Archmage," she said, proffering the frogs of her forehooves in an admission of defeat. "I'm just saying, if you ever feel like you want to practice, I can be anypony. Well, short of Celestia—"

"Graargh," I interrupted, then clarified "His Equiish lessons."

Metamorphosis nodded. "He's doing terrible by our standards, but pretty good by yours."

"'Our' standards?"

"Changelings," she clarified. "Most drones can emulate an adult's speech by the time they're past pupation. But since he fully bonded to whatever bear 'parents' he found, we're having to teach him the pony way." With a sigh, she added "It's agonizing. But the real problem is you."

"What could I possibly be doing? I haven't interfered in any of the lessons at all, have I?"

"That's the problem. He adores you, Morty. And while I can't taste his emotions, it doesn't take a genius to see he's jealous of Cherry."

I shrugged as I donned my jacket, letting the scarlet trim rise and fall with my shoulders. "I dine with him most days, I read to him from that King Ardor and Canterlot storybook most nights. I can't be his only tutor for everything his entire life. He's got more of my time than I did from Wintershimmer, and I turned out fine." I flicked my hoof dismissively to the changeling. "I'll try to give him some time tomorrow, or… well, in a few days. For now, the study needs me."

"You barely ate—"

"I'm already tempted to kill my real mother," I interrupted as I pushed open the door of the bedroom, half a mimosa and three raspberries trailing in my magical grip despite the aching that the act of levitation left in my horn. "Don't try to join her."

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

I barely made it to my study when a small bell near the door—magically entangled with the calling bell on the porch—rang. Grumbling, I pushed myself up from my armchair, adjusted my sash around my waist to make sure my jacket was sitting presentably, and headed back to the foyer.

Grand Duchess Chrysprase had the unbridled audacity to not only be still breathing, but waiting for me in my own home.

"Earl Dust," she greeted.

I took in a deep breath in an attempt to steady myself, and almost immediately realized that there was no possible way I was going to play off the respectful and formal tone and honor all the niceties and little elements he'd been teaching me about interactions between noble ponies. Solemn Vow's advice in such situations had been to remove myself from the circumstances, until I could steady myself, but that obviously wasn't going to be an option with Chrysoprase. So I was left to do my best.

"Grand Duchess Chrysoprase," I answered. "Welcome to my home. Can I offer you a tea? Or failing that, I understand the former owner kept a number of your favorite wines in the cellar." I descended the stairs, and glanced at one of the side doors of the room on the ground level, where Vow's wooden face emerged. I gave him a short nod, and he darted off to fetch some offering of food and drink.

"I don't want Vow's wine," Chrysoprase answered curtly. "I will accept tea. May I sit?"

"I suspect I can't stop you," I answered with an entirely insincere smile, as I gestured to a chair around the same little set where I had previously sat with Archmage Hourglass. "Before we begin, I'm sure the Professor will bring some biscuits or those little wedge sandwiches, but would you like something else? A spot of chocolate? A salad? My beating heart?"

Chrysoprase's brow dropped, and the wrinkles beneath her horn creased into a canyon. "I am not here to play word games, Earl, nor to mince words. My part of the oath we swore together obligates me to teach you how to behave as a noblepony. And because you are a banner of my house, no matter how much I might wish to distance myself from you, I do not have that option. We will meet this way thrice a week, at this time each morning. Set aside at least an hour every other day, save the weekend. In our future meetings, you will come to my home."

"I'm supposed to meet with Celestia on—"

Chrysoprase didn't even let me finish. "If Lady Celestia wishes to continue to mentor you in the study of magic, she can make use of her much freer itinerary to find another time. The same applies to whatever… necromantic obligations you might have. You will meet these appointments so long as you are in Everfree City."

I inhaled. I exhaled. Vow arrived with tea, poured two cups, served a tray of thin shortbread cookies dusted with confectioner's sugar, and then patted me on the shoulder encouragingly as he left. I inhaled again.

"Fine," I told her, at last. "I'll be there. What's today's lesson?"

"Are you familiar with the term 'Domain'?"

I took some pride in getting to show up her expectation of my ignorance. "In the old kingdoms, a demesne was a noble's land allotted by the crown, where they built a manor and could collect taxes. The practice stems from the days when nobles were expected to be knights or wizards, and the size of a demesne was related to the number of ponies one was expected to defend and rule. We spell it less ridiculously now, but my understanding is that you, personally, negotiated to keep the right to land allocation, including rights to the resources on said land, as well as a portion of taxation collected under the Equestrian system as a right of the ruling unicorn queen. Gale—sorry, Her Majesty— has strong opinions about that."

Chrysoprase answered my verbose reply with a raised brow—avoiding looking impressed, but at least giving me the satisfaction of having surprised her. "Taxation and buried gems are a small reward for the responsibility a noble carries on behalf of their wards."

"I thought the term was 'serfs'," I noted, despite absolutely knowing better. "Or peasants."

"Those terms have gone out of fashion," Chrysoprase answered bluntly, and judging by the dip in the canyon on her brow, she saw through my false confusion. "In Equestria, we have the Legion, so martial defense is no longer an obligation of the noble lines. But we still bear a great responsibility to our wards as their defenders against disaster and chaos. When a domain falls under drought or flooding or fire, ponies turn to their lords and ladies for guidance. And while few of us have the power to avert natural disasters of that nature, there are many other disasters of equine origin that ponies may not even realize they are being guarded against, if their lord or lady is wise and insightful. Famine. Unrest. Crime. Equestria may be ruled by a vast—and you will find at times, overreaching and stagnant—bureaucracy, it is not appropriate for a pony's recourse from danger to require a message to be carried across hundreds of miles of the frontier, only to be debated in a room full of complete strangers who have never once set hoof on the land in question. A noble, by contrast, can make decisive decisions and take necessary action, and lives amongst their wards, so they are not foreign to the needs of the land or the ponies they care for."

"So, to summarize: we still have the full benefits of the old system, but nobleponies are no longer expected to keep up the martial or magical parts of their responsibilities?"

Chrysoprase let out a small huff of frustration at that. "History taught us dozens of times over that wizards do not always, or even often, make good rulers. I see you disdain the skill of decisive executive leadership. I suspect that is because you don't understand it. That is, after all, the point of these lessons."

"Are these lessons going to involve practical exercise, or just lectures? Should I bring a quill and parchment next time?"

I had been entirely kidding, so a chill ran down my neck when Chrysoprase let the corner of her lip creep up. "As a matter of fact, our lessons will be practical even as soon as tomorrow, Earl Dust. You may be aware that recently, Her Majesty secured a number of new lands to be assignable into noble domains by the Equestrian Parliament, as part of her negotiation creating this new 'Royal Guard' she has concocted. Some of those domains are mine to assign by right as the Duchess of one of the Great Houses, but by tradition, when such an assignment is granted, it is granted in a ceremony before the sitting Queen. I've picked out a wonderful place for a young stallion of your experiences; one with a limited number of wards, and relatively few complexities, other than of the monstrous sort that your magic lends itself to resolving. Of course, like all the domain assignments of recent days, I'm afraid the land sits rather far from Everfree, on the edge of the frontier. But the best practical lesson I can offer on your new responsibilities is to task you with overseeing it whenever you aren't here in the city to meet with the Stable. I will, of course, set one of your neighbors with the task of checking in on you, and our correspondence will suffice to provide you with the lessons you are owed without the need to suffer through my 'lectures', as you put it."

"You're ordering me out of Everfree? With the vow?"

"I am giving you exactly what I swore I would under my terms of the vow," Chrysoprase answered. "If you would rather stay in Everfree, you may publicly forsake your noble lineage. I would accept your abdication of the Earldom—though, to be clear, I would not lift the terms of our agreement."

I frowned. "And if I just ask Gale for a closer domain?"

"On what unclaimed land? Or perhaps you suggest she engage in outright tyranny and strip another noble house of their duly-granted domain just to keep close at hoof the stallion who crippled Duke Zodiac?" Chrysoprase grinned. "Whether she likes you or not is irrelevant; she is good enough at the great game to recognize a losing move when she sees it. The last seated monarch who stripped away a title without due cause was Zirconium the False—incidentally, the last king to be dethroned by the Stable. I trust you understand from there?" Chrysoprase leaned back in her seat and took a small sip of Vow's tea. I found myself wishing he had gone behind my back and poisoned it. I took my own cup gingerly between my hooves and lifted it to my lips.

After that lull in conversation, I lowered my teacup, sat back, and steepled my forehooves.

"For want of another topic of discussion, I suggest we discuss the administration of a domain. Would you prefer to cover—"

"Grand Duchess, with all due respect, I heard what you said after we both paused, but I didn't parse it. I was occupied with a delightful daydream of grabbing onto your seventh cervical vertebra and spinning it in place like a top. As a foal, Wintershimmer taught me that there is no point in attempting to learn or study when one is overcome with emotion, so I will—however dishonest we both know it to be—wish you 'good day' before I do something that kills us both." I stood up. "It's just over there, but if you require assistance, my staff will see you to the door." Then I teleported away—despite the pain it caused my very real horn, and despite the awareness that it cost me a year of my increasingly dwindling natural lifespan—because I felt it was worth it not to let her reply.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

As I have grown older (or rather, as time has passed), I have become increasingly convinced in the importance of owning a good brooding chair. In an upstairs sitting room (on the mansion's third floor, which I don't believe I've previously described) I had found a hearth and a huge overstuffed reading chair set squarely before it. It was delightfully comfortable for the pastime of staring at tongues of flame and trying to ignore the world, and that was exactly how I employed it.

Alas, solitude is a rare thing for a wizard of such importance as my own. I heard the door creak open behind me, something in the vein of forty minutes after Chrysoprase's departure.

"I brought your tea up," said Solemn Vow, meekly or perhaps fearfully. "And a different breakfast. Metamorphosis told me you barely ate."

"I ate plenty," I answered.

The comment earned a sigh—and I only now on reflection realize Vow had to go out of his way to make that noise, lacking any actual nostrils or lungs. Then my predecessor-turned-butler dryly observed "I suppose I should have deduced you think a few pecked bites is enough to sustain yourself, given how thin you are. But you're going to need to eat today of all days, Morty."

"Why?"

Vow finally stepped into view on my right side, holding aloft a silver tray with the aforementioned foodstuffs. "Celestia sent a message that she would be here this evening. She said she had a test for you."

Intrigue broke through stagnant fury. "A test?"

Vow nodded. "The note didn't say what; only that you were going to host her for dinner, and that afterwards there would be a test."

That phrasing got me to fully pivot and face Vow. "Are you saying she phrased it as an order—'You're going to host me for dinner' or something like that?"

Vow set his tray down on my side table, and then with a wooden hoof, gently nudged aside a saucer to reveal a small envelope. I struggled to pick it up for a moment in my hooves before eventually grabbing onto it with mild telekinesis and unfolding it. The reading was still slow, and I struggled a touch with a few words, but I refrained from reading aloud to preserve some dignity.

Morty,

I will be visiting your home this afternoon, two hours before sundown. Have your golems, or whatever other servants you are now employing, have dinner prepared for us. Over dinner, we will talk. Then I will need to subject you to a test. When it is done, we will discuss your future.

- Celestia

"What do you make of it?" Vow asked.

I scoffed. "I can't tell when Chrysoprase or Platinum are pulling one over on me, and you think I have a read on Celestia? When it's just in writing?"

Vow shook his head. "I don't think she's trying to deceive you, Morty."

"Can I trust that?"

Vow looked at me skeptically. "Morty, can I be blunt?"

I casually and dismissively flicked a hoof in the air, the age-old symbol of 'whatever'.

"I told you the day you made your bet with Duke Castle that we would talk about why that was a poor decision. I've refrained since then; between Metamorphosis arriving and the trip to the Union, things have been busy, and now that the other shoe has dropped, it's obvious you've suffered more than enough. You don't need me to scold you, and I don't intend to. That said, there's a big difference between being wiser and less trusting from ponies who are your enemies and rivals, and snapping at your friends and allies."

"I…" I swallowed back the first thought that came to mind.

"Vow is right in this instance, however rare that might be," Wintershimmer stated in my mind's ear, without his 'ghost' appearing to my eye. "Though to ensure you don't let a moment's correction wipe away hard-won insight: the thought you just bit back was right, even if you are also wise not to voice it. Vow is less trustworthy than Celestia."

"The old stallion talking in your head?" Vow asked; how he deduced, apart from the long pause, I don't know.

"He is," I answered.

"Well, it's probably not a topic for today, but if you do decide you want him out of there, I would take particular pleasure in any help I could offer." Vow tapped twice on the platter as he stepped away from me. "Eat. Really. I'll handle dinner."

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

At two hours to sunset, there was a thundering knock on the door. I'd been sitting in the foyer waiting for Celestia, but I felt suddenly utterly unprepared when she actually arrived. I rose. I walked to the door. I stared at its ornate handles for a moment, and found myself confused at the curling brass patterns. It took me a moment to realize why: I had never actually used them before. The doors were enchanted to open on their own.

"Open," I ordered, curious as to what was happening. The doors exploded open, followed by a scalding summer wind—a veritable sirocco, despite Everfree's temperate climate—that sent the trailing edge of my jacket flapping against my flanks and saw me shift a full step back in surprise.

The mare standing on the other side of the doors was certainly Celestia, though that was less a matter of familiarity, and more that it could not possibly have been anypony else. In place of her ethereal pastel mane, the alicorn's hair was a summer pink, though the edges of it glowed orange like hot coals or iron from the forge. Her legs and neck were just as long as ever, but rather than their smooth, almost textureless appearance like alabaster or ivory, I could clearly see the muscles beneath her skin, and I took note at just how strong Celestia had to be to show such power even whilst standing still. And her expression was anything but illegible; her jaw was tight, her eyes subtly sunken, and her nostrils visibly stretching and shrinking with breath—not the heavy breathing of exertion, but merely the slight increase in effort of one for whom existence is normally utterly without toil.

With all those visible changes, it took me almost three moments to realize that, rather than being devoid of clothes, Celestia had selected a scarlet dress, or perhaps a jacket, open as it was in the front and cut not unlike my own (though she wore no sash or belt around her midsection. Beneath this garment, covering her chest and lower neck, she wore what I will most honestly call a cuirass. For modern readers who know the mare's 'royal' attire, this was far more practical than that golden peytral she now favors, and though at first glance it also appeared made of gold, upon closer inspection I realized the armor was steel, covered in gilded runes or etchings so fine and so numerous that presented from a distance as a uniform white-gold.

"May I come in?" she asked, a terse edge to her voice.

All thoughts of calm, of trust in Celestia as my friend or my mentor, vanished in that question. Nervously, stumbling over my own legs, I pulled myself out of the main path in from the foyer, and swept a foreleg across my chest to usher her in much as Vow often did when welcoming a guest—though lacking utterly in his grace with the motion.

Celestia walked… I will say 'like a mortal' here first, though I recognize that description only bears value in contrast to those who know her normally. On any other day, there is no obvious magic to Celestia's walk; when I say she 'glides', it is not because she literally hovers or levitates, but because she walks with the grace of a ballerina. Despite how obvious her size is, ponies are often surprised when I mention that she weighs upwards of fifty stone.

On that day in Everfree, Celestia's stride carried her weight. Her shoulders shifted when she walked, and there was some fatigue in her stride. She stepped into the house fully, and the doors shut behind her seemingly wary not to catch her tail—perhaps fearing the appearance of flame on its fringes. "Which way is your dining room?" she asked me, towering overhead and seeming rather closer than she usually stood, such that I had to crane my neck quite awkwardly to meet her gaze.

"This way," I answered, and then set off on a rather worried trot. It was a short trip, made all the shorter for the fact that I was rushing my own pace to make sure I didn't force her into miniscule steps on her towering legs. Only very near the doors of the dining room did I realize she was panting to keep up with me.

When the dining room doors opened, Angel was the first to speak. "Ah! Celestia! Welcome to—oh my! Are you well? You look different—"

Celestia raised a wing to silence Angel, and shook her head. "Today I need to speak to Morty alone. Bring whatever food you've prepared, then leave us."

Vow, who had also been standing by the dining room's doors, nodded. In his false accent, he asked "Would y' like us t' bring out all th' courses a' twunce?"

"I am not concerned if you hear what we are discussing; I only do not want Morty distracted by too many voices. That said, I have expended far too much magic today, and I would like as much food as you will bring me, as swiftly as possible."

"O' course!" said Vow. He threw a nod to Angel and slipped out the door.

Angel hovered nervously, drifting out of the way but waiting for Celestia's girth to fully enter the room before sneaking past. As he did so, he asked "Does… your ladyship?... prefer red wine or white?"

"Both," muttered Celestia tersely. "And water."

When the doors were shut, Celestia pulled out a chair at the head of the table with her wing (rather too small for her form, and notably ignoring the pillows Vow had placed at the far side of the table obviously intended for her). She collapsed into it with only enough gentle concern and care that she did not fully snap the wood, though it let out an audible groan at her weight. Then, seated, she reached a wing fully across the corner of the table to the chair on her left, and pulled it out for me—making her intention even more plain by patting its seat twice with her leading feathers before she refolded the wing at her side.

"I hope I haven't driven you to drink," I joked, nervously.

Celestia scoffed—really honestly scoffed in that deep and dismissive sort of way, a noise I think I have heard from her twice in my life beside that moment. "If you saw how much alcohol it takes for me to even take the edge off a hard day, Morty, you'd think I was ten separate drunks. My magic isn't without its downsides." Then, with a frown, she added "Given what has happened the last several days, I confess that if I could, I probably would indulge. I haven't been properly drunk in recorded history. But we're not here for me to complain."

"I'm sorry—"

"You haven't hurt me," Celestia interrupted quite forcefully, dropping a hoof onto the polished brown wood of the dining room table. "I am disappointed, though I do understand why you acted how you did."

I drew in a breath, considered what to say… and came up with nothing.

Celestia arched a brow at my silence.

"I don't know what to say besides 'I'm sorry'."

"Ah." Celestia nodded, and then left the thought hanging as Vow and Angel returned with our dinner—the former balancing an enormous silver platter, and followed by a hovering dinner cart, while the latter had somehow pinched the handles of two buckets of ice between his central core and his halos. Each bucket contained a bottle of wine, already uncorked and ready for pouring. Despite her statement that she didn't mind being listened to, Celestia let our conversation hang as dinner was served, speaking only to offer thanks to the evening's waiters.

Having endured a few of Vow's lessons on table manners and etiquette, above and beyond the basic rules that Wintershimmer had taught me strictly in my youth, I was struck quite surprised by how little Celestia seemed to care. I do not wish to say she was uncouth, particularly; she didn't chew with her mouth open or spill everywhere or anything of the sort. Rather, I mean smaller things: she ate the whole meal with the same fork, handled the dishes with her wings in addition to her magic (though that might have been for the benefit of my horn), and most notably, after pouring one glass of wine for me, she drank the rest directly from the bottle.

Two slices of a rich loaf of oat bread and an apple—core and all—vanished before Vow and Angel even made their retreat. She indulged in a rather large portion of scalloped potatoes as well before, with some physical satisfaction and an apparent relief to her urgency, she returned her attention to me. "Reacting violently to what happened to you is the natural response. But I have to expect more out of you, Mortal Coil. When somepony has as much power as you do, or as I do, we have to be better."

I nodded. "I know about the Onus of Ambition."

Celestia arched her brow. "The what?"

I spoke as she proceeded to eat a heaping helping of a summer salad decorated with raisins and mixed nuts. "Increasing power comes with increasing obligation to control it. Um… 'great power is burdened with great responsibility' is the famous short-hoof way of saying it, though Wintershimmer never liked that because it was incomplete."

Celestia huffed in dry amusement (having just taken a bite). After a swallow, she answered "Hypocritical, coming from Wintershimmer, but true. Tell me more."

"Well, the idea goes: there's power you acquire in passing, and power you acquire only by pursuing it. The brute force of my horn is actually a good example of the former, but the classic one is a farmer or a blacksmith who gets strong as a side effect of their work, but who didn't pursue it as a means to an end of using it for violence as a knight or something. A smith could seriously hurt somepony else if they took a swing, and they do have the responsibility not to use that strength, that power, for evil. But they don't have any responsibility to proactively use that strength for good; nopony would—or at least, nopony should—blame that pony for not putting their life on the line in, say, a fight with a monster.

"A wizard, by contrast, or a knight, seeks power specifically to use it as power. So does a king or a noble. When you choose to pursue power actively, you have an obligation to use it for the good of others. And you also bear an obligation to train yourself against mistakes with that power, or loss of control. A wizard is especially vulnerable, because while a knight's muscles can atrophy, and a noble's power can wane, it is hard to deliberately forget spells once you've really learned them. And if a wizard does let emotion win out, they are doubly guilty—they both committed a loss of self-control, but also were in the wrong by letting themself gain that power without the control to use it responsibly." My eyes ran away. "In the old days, if an apprentice or a mage did what I did, their master would be expected to cut off their horn."

Celestia winced. "Like many old laws, the principle of the idea may be good, but that does not excuse the barbarity of the punishment." Then she sighed. "That said, perhaps there is merit in the metaphor."

Ice ran down my spine as I watched Celestia's fork dip into her salad. Agonizingly, unable to eat myself, I had to wait for her to chew, and swallow, and draw in a little breath of her own. Through each motion, I felt like I was teetering on a cliff.

"Taking you on as my student is very much like pursuing power in your metaphor. If I continue to teach you, to enable you… to lend you my blood, if we continue to do so, then I feel like I have to take some responsibility for your actions. I don't believe in distancing myself from a student, Morty. If I am going to stand behind you, I refuse to be ashamed to do it. I'll even stand in front of you. I will either give you all my support, or none at all; in my experience, for a student and a teacher to ever succeed, there has to be absolute trust, so that if I ask you to do something beyond your comfort, or to push yourself, you aren't second guessing whether or not I'm setting you up to fail. There are lessons I will teach you where I will be secretive, or difficult, or not forthcoming, for your benefit. I cannot teach you those lessons if you doubt me as a teacher, or if I doubt you as a student. Your actions in the Crystal Union challenged my trust for the first time. So today, I am going to give you a test. If you pass, I will hold you to a higher standard, because I know you are capable of better. If you fail, then we are done."

My shoulders fell in relief when she was done. I nodded once. "What do you want me to do?"

"Let me finish my dinner," Celestia answered. "Healing somepony as old as Star Swirl takes much more magic than somepony as young as you." After a bite and a swallow of a butternut squash dumpling, Celestia turned to me again. "Angel and that new golem are exceptional chefs."

"Umm…" I felt like she was staring through me, and at last I said "There were a lot of cookbooks here, so I guess Solemn Vow was a good chef?"

"Hurricane said something similar once," Celestia agreed, before moving on to yet another dish. I was left with the distinct discomfort that she suspected more than she let on. She devoured two more plates and the better part of a third before lowering her silverware, gently dabbing her lips with a napkin (though even in her voraciousness, there was not a speck of a crumb, nor a drop of sauce, to be seen on her fur). "What I want to tell you now, Morty, is a warning. I believe you have a good heart. I stand by what I have said to you as we've spoken the past few months. But a good heart is not enough—especially when somepony has as much power as we do. I will teach you discernment, and self-control, if you will let me. And if, this evening, you prove to me that you have the capacity to learn. But my power—my 'onus', you called it?— leaves me with an obligation to all of ponykind, not just my friends and family. No matter how much I may believe in the power of forgiveness, there does come a point where giving second chances makes me as culpable as those who fail. So if you fail me again in this way, I will take some measure of your power away. If you cannot promise me that you want to live up to that standard, then you would be wise not to take my test."

I swallowed. The thought of a broken-off horn flashed through my mind (a gross underestimation of Celestia's magic—though I will not burden the reader with what I have learned since). But of course, my soul—the very essence of my being, could only give one answer. It was stamped, plain as day, on my sides. "Test me."

She answered in a flash of magic. There was no surge of vertigo at all, no sense of motion. But we were suddenly elsewhere.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

The new place was an ornate hallway, not unlike Chrysoprase's home. Dark wood boards gave way to striped green plaster halfway up the walls. One side was lined with windows, looking out on the orange skyline of Everfree—we were somewhere in 'Horntown' if my sense of location was right, so I assumed we were in a lower part of Diadem's college. The other wall was lined with doors.

"Third door," Celestia directed me. "I will be listening."

My mind, reader, leapt to Wintershimmer's similar lessons; he often took me to some obscure location, or a small pocket dimension purpose-crafted for whatever instruction he wanted to provide, and directed me ahead without an explanation of what awaited me. That was no small part of how I learned to think on my hooves as swiftly as you have seen me do in this story and its predecessor. I idly popped up the collar of my jacket, taking comfort in its enchantments protecting a bit more of the vulnerable flesh of my neck. My hooves led me forward. I reached the door: dark brown wood, utterly indistinct from the others in the hallway. I took an idle note that a candlestand next to the door was lit with magic, rather than flame. I pushed open the door.

Inside was a bedroom. I registered very little of the furnishings, save the ornately crafted woodwork of the bed on the wall to my right, and the stallion sitting in it, propped up by pillows.

"Star Swirl."

A grunt of dissatisfaction came from the old stallion, who turned his head and glared at me. "That's Archmage Star Swirl to you, colt." Then, turning his head to look over my shoulder, he cried out "If he's who you meant, Celestia, I'd rather be alone tonight."

"I—" I winced, and hesitated, and then, hung my head. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize Celestia was bringing me here. I'll go."

"You'll do no such thing," said Celestia, appearing in the door behind me. I glanced up at her just in time to see her nod wordlessly to Star Swirl. He huffed in frustration, folding his forelegs across his chest and tensing his shoulders, but with a flick of magic from his horn, he brought a chair into being from the floorboards at his bedside.

"Fine. Sit. You joining us too, Your Holiness?"

Celestia weathered the barb silently, only shaking her head as she took a seat near the door, quite removed from Star Swirl and I. Nervously, I approached.

"Well, what is it?" Star Swirl asked, before I had even been properly seated.

"I don't know," I answered, hesitantly.

Another huff. "What in the blazes do you mean you don't know? I stayed up to humor this visit when I would fully prefer to be asleep rather than in agonizing pain and you don't even know why you're wasting my time?"

"I… I'm sorry, I really don't know. I mean…" I sucked in a breath, hoping Wintershimmer's voice in my mind would give me some guidance.

The ghost of the old stallion faded into my vision standing over the other side of Star Swirl's bed, solely to shake his head to and fro, making it clear he had no intention to offer me any support in this.

I turned my thoughts inward, and I confess it was a moment of my own failure as a young stallion not to arrive at the answer Celestia wanted when I assume it is likely obvious to any reader without the handicap of lingering, simmering rage at suffered injustice.

"Fine, I'll be the bigger stallion," Star Swirl grumbled, and looked me square in the eyes. "I can't imagine Wintershimmer ever taught you how to do this. Morty, I'm sorry. Everything I said in the courthouse yesterday was true. I can only imagine that is very little consolation for what you've been put through because of my misplaced trust."

Of course, with that, I saw what Celestia wanted—at least, what I assumed she wanted. "Thank you, Archmage. I'm sorry too. You… you didn't deserve what I did to you."

Star Swirl arched a brow. "Wintershimmer would have said I did."

"No, he would have chastised me for being too emotional, and told me to just kill you with the Razor." I gave my voice his hoarse and sneering quality as best I could. "Sudden, inescapable death is more than sufficient to frighten the masses into giving you due respect. Massive shows of messy violence are the domain of the barbarians, and only they deserve it in kind."

Star Swirl laughed—well, chuckled a bit before his momentary mirth vanished into a groan at pain from the wounds I had inflicted. "I hope he told you you were a good apprentice before you dispersed his soul. I hope he told you he was proud of you."

The comment left me feeling puzzled, but behind his copious beard and eyebrows, Star Swirl was as inscrutable as a pony could be to me.

"He did," I answered. "He told me not to take his Archmage seat even when Jade offered it to me. And he was glad I'd be learning from Celestia instead of Diadem."

Star Swirl huffed out a grim mote of frustration. "Always so pessimistic."

I glanced up to the ghost of Wintershimmer, whose face showed no particular emotion at all, and then back to Star Swirl before he began to suspect anything odd. "Is there anything I can do for you, Archmage? Something to make this right?"

"Hah!" That was less of a real laugh, and more a dismissive bark. "The mighty Mortal Coil wants to stoop to help somepony as powerless as me?"

"Star Swirl," Celestia noted, from her post near the door.

Star Swirl frowned at the correction, and then let out a small sigh. "I don't think you can give me what I really want, Morty. But then again, I can't lift the Vow from you either. So I'll ask you this—and to be clear, in case anypony is putting you up to this, I will accept you saying no. If you do this, I want it to be of your own free will. Willingly, even if it is grudgingly."

"What?" I asked.

"I know Wintershimmer hated the idea of Diadem's school. And in some sense, he was right; if the thing you value in a wizard above all else is their skill as a monster slayer, the old ways might be better. But in my long lifetime, I've seen that the world can move past clinging to monster slayers and dueling archmagi. I know you've seen some of it too, Morty. You saw Clover's memory of Scorpan. You've worked alongside Celestia, maybe already more than I have. Even with all that, the school wasn't my idea, or Clover's; Diadem deserves the credit for imagining a better future. But I will be more than happy with my life if supporting that better future is my legacy."

"If you're asking me to enroll as a student, I think—"

"I'm not trying to insult you, colt, I'm trying to show you a great deal of respect. Now shut your mouth and let me." Turning to Celestia, he muttered "For the record, he's worse than Wintershimmer was when we were his age." Then, back to me, he continued "I know you're beyond most of the lessons the school would teach. I'd like you to offer your services to Diadem as an instructor."

"You want me to teach?"

Star Swirl chuckled. "I don't know if Diadem ever got around to asking you, but even just after you beat Wintershimmer, she was already talking my ear off over dinner about how excited she'd be if she could get you to do a course on necromancy. For the record, I told her you'd probably think the same thing Wintershimmer did about the school. But I'd love it if I was wrong. Whatever magic you discover and research with the rest of your life, I'd much rather history remember you supporting her idea than fighting against it."

I huffed, and frowned, but I relented. "Fine."

"If you can get over your ego, I'll also do you a good turn and invite you to one of my graduate seminars… once I'm out of this bed. Every winter, I teach the Omniomorphic Spell."

My eyes widened, briefly, and I could only find it in myself to nod silently. Mages reading this understand intuitively my reaction, but for those not following: even an ego as prestigious as mine has to yield when Star Swirl the Bearded, the reigning Father of Transmutation (a title nopony else has believably claimed in the near-millenium between these events and the time of writing) offers to personally teach you the spell which won him that title.

"Good," said Star Swirl. "You happy, Celestia? Can I get my stars-damned sleep now?"

"I am satisfied," Celestia said, and beckoned me over with a wing.

As I stood, though, one thought lingered in my mind. "Archmage, what did you want that I can't give you?"

Star Swirl frowned, not upset but in a show of a sort of solemnity. "I know it's strange to say with what you two knew of him, but even after all those years and all the things he did wrong, I considered Wintershimmer a… well, a sort of distant friend. There were things I had planned to say to him before we dispersed his soul." With a swallow, the old wizard added "Not that I begrudge you what you did; it was your right. And you were much closer to him in the end. But—"

"Do you want to talk to him?" I asked.

Wintershimmer's ghost raised a brow at me skeptically, even as Star Swirl shot me a glare. "Don't tease me, Morty."

"I'm not," I told him. "I… Well, first off, Celestia, come here. I was meaning to tell you about this since I got back from the Union, but then with everything that happened, I wanted to make sure we were okay first."

"You didn't actually disperse Wintershimmer?" Celestia asked, hesitant as she approached.

"No, I did. But… Look, it'll be easier to just show you both. Um, let me say this backwards for the first time ever. In a moment, you're both going to feel a chill on the back of your necks, but you're not in danger. I just need to be sort of magically touching your souls to show you. Do you trust me?"

Celestia nodded, and after a moment, Star Swirl did the same.

Wintershimmer 'imagined' up a chair for himself on the other side of the bed, so that his ghostly hooves could be steepled in front of him even as he became visible to the others' mind's eyes. "Celestia. Star Swirl. This may be uncharacteristic for me, but it is a pleasure to see you both."

"How is this possible?" Star Swirl asked, whether to Wintershimmer or I, I couldn't say.

"I don't know," Wintershimmer answered "After Coil dispersed my soul, I found myself coming into awareness looking through his eyes in the back of his mind, like awakening from a coma—my experience after our encounter with the wyvern outside Eastwatch would be a suitable metaphor."

"I think he's part of Wintershimmer's soul," I added. "He knows some of what Wintershimmer knew in life—memories embedded on his soul, but not the purely academic knowledge that died with his brain. Beyond that, as far as we both know, this is unprecedented in Equine history."

"I do not expect you both to trust my word, but as I told Coil, this was not something I had planned or arranged. I had expected to either defeat you, Celestia, and attain your immortality, or die trying. Given I made every attempt to kill Coil, I hope you can both see why it would be foolish for me to also rely on him as a vessel for survival. Beyond that, I have advised Coil that this will almost certainly prove a suitable research subject for his first thesis."

"It's not as unprecedented as you think," said Celestia. When all three of us stallions turned to her, she shrugged. "'Academic' magic did not exist in those days, so this is something that has never been studied before. In that sense I agree that if you want to write a thesis, Morty, this is a good subject. I'll refrain from sharing what I know, except to tell you that in time, this 'ghost' of Wintershimmer will fade, and all you will be left with are especially strong memories of the part of your life you shared with him."

"You stubbornly refuse to cease to amaze," said Star Swirl. Then he turned to Wintershimmer. "Well, I suppose there's no chance I get to say the things I wanted to say to you in private."

Wintershimmer shook his head. "I cannot imagine what you would want to say to me. I was poor company for nostalgic reminiscing and tea parties in life, and if you are hoping that has changed in my time since my death, you never really knew me. Or did you want to admit I was right about students?"

"What? You taught Solemn Vow, and you have the audacity to suggest I was wrong about what makes a good student?"

"Not Vow, Star Swirl. Coil is my thesis on this point. Recall what I said to you that day that I all-but spelled out Vow's conspiracy for Typhoon? You had to lean on the crutch of a once-in-a-generation horn to make a worthy continuation of your lineage, but I could turn even a deformed horn into a worthy wizard?" Here, the ghost gestured to me. "It took twenty years for me to win that argument, but I do take some satisfaction in my conclusion."

"Morty," said Star Swirl. "I'm curious if you could lend me your expertise on necromancy? Right now, I would really like to punch a ghost."

"Always turning to your hooves," Wintershimmer shook his head with dry amusement. "What was it Master Comet used to say?"

"That if you were in a real wizard's duel and you let yourself get punched in the face, you deserved to die," Star Swirl grinned. "How many times did I break your glasses again, 'Shimmy'?"

"Enough that I learned to layer enchantments on my own bare eyes in the mirror," Wintershimmer answered with proper scorn in his voice.

Star Swirl nodded. "I do miss those days, Wintershimmer. That's what I wanted to say to you before you went."

"Rank nostalgia. I knew it."

"I wish things could have been different."

"If you actually meant that, you would give Coil my notes, and my horn. Which, lest I be misunderstood: he deserves full legal right to, along with all my possessions."

Star Swirl glanced to me, and then to Celestia, and then shook his head. "Absence does make the heart grow fonder, Wintershimmer. Almost twenty years with barely twenty words between us, and you've made me sick to be around you again in, what, five minutes?"

"Either you've grown patient in your old age, or I've grown sloppy in my… shallow grave, I suppose?" Wintershimmer glanced toward Celestia. "Did Luna's undead eat my corpse, or is there an unlabeled ditch somewhere I can ask Coil to put some flowers on?"

The living archmage huffed. "I would have thought you'd be offended by that kind of sentiment. Or at least disappointed in Morty."

"That's not actually why he's actually asking," Celestia noted with skeptical lowered brow. "Did you suspect while you were alive, Wintershimmer?"

I have to admit, in the room with three titans of magic, I felt lost and utterly outclassed. Wintershimmer answered Celestia without hesitation. "I'd only gotten as far as deducing that Luna's servants were undead while I was awaiting my execution. It was only watching Coil's escapades with the two changelings in the schoolhouse that I put two-and-two together."

I blinked twice, and then looked up at Wintershimmer. "Wait… you think Luna wanted to raise you?"

"He does," Celestia agreed. "And he's right."

"She wasn't worried he'd… break free or something? I stole one of the Night Guard from her for a good ten seconds in the schoolhouse, and he's got a lot more experience than I do."

"You did what?!" Star Swirl cried out.

Celestia pinched her brow with her wing and let out a small sigh. "I have no intention to mother you of all ponies, Star Swirl, but I put a lot of magic into your back, and I'd be very upset if it went to waste. Just… try to ignore what Morty just said. Morty… and Wintershimmer, I suppose… shall we talk elsewhere?"

Celestia didn't actually wait for either of us to reply.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

We were, very abruptly, on the mountaintop overlooking Equestria again—the Mountain of Dawn, the same place she'd shared her story of Discord and the mare who would become the changeling queen. I was still holding Celestia's soul for the sake of sharing my vision of Wintershimmer, and I swiftly and horrifyingly became aware that despite being a great many miles away, I was still holding Star Swirl's as well. The latter I let go of swiftly—probably causing him a rather nauseating and chilling feeling in his bedroom.

Wintershimmer, as ever, was unphased by the sudden change. "What is the significance of bringing Coil to this place? When you dragged him up here for that story about Discord and Chrysalis, I had been expecting an object lesson. I assume since you just stared off the cliff while you talked, that this place is warded somehow?"

Celestia nodded. "Yes; this is my old home, and I spent a very long time protecting it from notice. I do also have an object lesson of sorts, if you're curious; Morty, I mean. Wintershimmer, I suspect I don't have to tell you—"

"That you aren't interested in humoring my curiosity?" Dryly, without even the faintest hint of sarcasm in his tone, Wintershimmer added "You wound me, Celestia."

"Indeed." Celestia didn't seem especially amused, but turned fully to me—or more to the point, to make it clear she wasn't also talking to Wintershimmer's ghost hovering beside me. "I brought you here, Morty, because even my sister doesn't listen to me here. As he guessed, yes; had you not shattered Wintershimmer yourself behind the back of the royals, Luna would have done the same—not to shatter him, but to induct him into her Night Guard."

"I owe you another debt of gratitude, Coil."

"Morty," Celestia corrected on my behalf. Then, adjusting her mane briefly with a wing as its less magically restored strands tossed in the frigid mountain wind, she continued "Luna didn't want me to admit this to you, so the only reason I'm spelling it now is so that you don't ask a well-meaning question that gets back to her ears, and leaves her suspecting you have this fragmented bit of Wintershimmer as-yet-unabsorbed in your mind. I encourage you not to reveal his presence to her if you can help it. Fortunately, her abandonment of guarding your dreams means she is unlikely to stumble onto him otherwise, unless you choose to reveal him. Speaking of which: Wintershimmer, in his dreams, you may appear beside Morty, and in that space, you may find yourself capable of wielding some measure of his will in a way akin to magic. You've claimed you intend to be an aid to Morty. It is in your best interest to ensure that is the truth; I have no doubt Luna would use even a hint that you might escape as pretext to destroy you, no matter the damage it did to Morty's soul."

"She would destroy an innocent soul with that pretext?" Wintershimmer seemed almost taken aback. "Would that I had targeted the other divine sister; then, even in failure, I would have the satisfaction of knowing I was in the moral right."

"Don't be too swift to condemn Luna," Celestia warned. "She sees herself very much like you claim to have; this idea of a… an aloof guardian goddess, burdened with moral responsibility." Then, to my surprise, this 'character' of sternness Celestia had put on with Wintershimmer suddenly, quite visibly, snapped. She began to chuckle, and then it built and built until she fell on her flanks and had to support her brow with a wing as she laughed at some joke that hadn't yet dawned on Wintershimmer or I (as evidenced by the silent glance we shared).

"Forgive—" she paused to suck in a breath. "Forgive me. When one lives as long as I have, and lives the life I've lead, you cannot help but sometimes cross pass with the sort of… well, for want of a better term, 'villains'—the sort who can't help but say things like 'we aren't so different, you and I'. And I just realized how close I'd gotten to that. Really, I do apologize."

"You okay?"

"Fine, I promise, Morty." Celestia patted me on the back with her wing. "Look, this has been a long day for all of us, and I'm still very tired. Losing my earth pony endurance, even for a few hours, really takes it out of me. I just wanted to get two points across, and clearly I'm not getting there if I don't just cut to the point. Firstly, Morty: don't tell Luna about Wintershimmer. And secondly, while I intend to help you with the Cold Iron Vow, Luna is the one of the two of us who knows the most about that kind of binding…"

"Evil," Wintershimmer suggested, without a hint of self-awareness.

"—easily misused magic," Celestia concluded. "So barring my efforts to pressure a resolution out of the Grand Duchess by diplomatic means, we're going to have to invent a solution from scratch. I'll help you however I can; I just can't solve this problem for you."

"I understand," I told her. "I… sorry; Master—er, Wintershimmer, was there anything else you wanted to say to Celestia? This is my real horn, and it's starting to ache something fierce, even with just this easy half of the Razor."

"About ten thousand questions and suggestions, none of which are worth burning through your horn for. For what little it is worth from me, Celestia, you have my gratitude for taking on Coil."

The very corner of Celestia's cheek quirked up into a grin. "It would be a real shame to let maybe the only good thing you ever did go to waste, Wintershimmer."

I released the spell with that, mostly out of deference for Celestia's great closing line. She clearly appreciated my timing, since she shot me a wink. "So… Do you want me to teleport you home now?"

"We can go back, sure; I'm sure Angel and the Professor made more food for you, if you're still hungry."

"Ah; I meant teleport you back, Morty; I was going to go to bed."

I glanced briefly from the mountainside where we stood to the entrance of the cave in the vertical cliffside nearby. "You mean that room at the palace, right?"

"No… between you and me, Morty, I mostly just go in there claiming I need to sleep at night so I have an excuse to get away from ponies I don't want to deal with without offending them. I don't actually need much sleep normally. I nap a bit every night and dream for the well-being of my soul, but if I need to stay up, my magic lets me stay up three, maybe four days before I start to really feel it. And when I do sleep, I prefer to do it up here. This was home for a long time."

"Okay… that leaves me with two questions. First off—well-being of your soul?"

Celestia nodded. "Ponies dreams allow their souls to contact the dreaming world—what was your word for it again? What Star Swirl calls 'Limbo'?"

"The Between," I answered. "How often does somepony need to dream to stay healthy?"

Celestia shrugged. "I've never heard of anypony's body lasting them long enough for it to be an issue. Luna might know. But it's really only an issue for Luna and I and a couple creatures in the world. You weren't thinking of completely skipping out on sleep, were you?"

"Well, I thought I wasn't," I told her. "But I've been popping my soul in a candlecorn and just letting my body sleep for the past while."

Celestia's eyes widened. "How long has it been since you had a proper dream, Morty?"

I nervously scratched behind my ears with a hoof. "I slept in the Union when I got arrested. Before that… I think it had been maybe two weeks?"

The fact that Celestia's wings partially unfurled told me I had been making a bad life choice. "Oh my. Okay. Tomorrow, you and I are going to have a talk about oneiromancy and lucid dreaming, and how to protect your dreams without Luna looking out for you. Are you free in the morning?"

"I have an appointment first thing. With Chrysoprase. I'll treat you to lunch afterwards, if you like."

"That sounds like a delightful plan," Celestia agreed. "What was your second question."

"Please don't take this the wrong way… but can I ask another really big favor?"

Comments

[duckmagee]

It alive

[CopperTop]

Oh ho! Morty and the gang are back! Glad to see it, because things were just getting good; both in the past and the present.

[SPANIARD KIWI]

It's back! Aww, yeah!

[OddDreams]

Mortal Coil once again raises a story from the dead. Awesome.

[Farenth Vega]

Super happy to see this story back. I've thought several times what a shame it was to let such a fantastic extended universe taper off, and at such a dramatic moment. Excellent chapter, hope to see more soon!

[Adin Terim]

It's always nice to see this story update, glad you came back to it.

[WatermelonRat]

I've fully believed this story and it's preceding stories were dead about five separate times now. It figures a story about necromancers would keep coming back.

Fantastic as always.

[ZeroMonkey]

It's unbelievably awesome to see this story update again. Very excited to see the continuing development of Morty's character and what the future holds in both the main story and the interludes.

[RoboRed]

Nice to see another update to this again after a while.

Morty's parting message to Chrysoprase was amazing. Man, I can't wait for the day when she gets what's coming to her.

[nos2342]

Very happy to get an upgrade for the story. Thank you.