Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Letter, received by Pontiff Mystihaze, dated 324 AF
To whom it may concern-
We of the Crystal Empire have received your messages, and heard the words of your messengers. We have read your supposed ‘holy book’ and the lies and deceptions you claim as truth.
We have watched with horror and disgust as you have persecuted your own citizens. We have personally dried their tears as they shared stories of torture and misery.
We wept at the news that you executed Sunset Shimmer, a dear, close friend of Our own beloved aunt.
We recoil with disgust at the way your history treats our great aunts, Celestia and Luna.
We have resolved the following:
We do not recognize any claim you or yours have over the Crystal Empire. Any political connection between us is severed.
We do not recognize you as the legitimate government of Equestria. In the absence of the late Princess Twilight Sparkle, we support the election of a Regent, to govern until Princess Twilight’s true alicorn successor can be found. The exiled ponies of Equestria have chosen a unicorn, Notary Public, as their Regent, in free and fair elections.
No Diarchy Knight shall set foot in our sovereign land.
Your missionaries are not welcome here.
We do not need your trade or your commerce.
We will remain separate from you until such time that you have rejected bigotry and hatred, and choose to treat your fellow ponies with respect and kindness.
With Greatest Disdain-
Princess Flurry Heart
Defender of the North, Proud Daughter of Empress Cadence and the Unicorn Prince Shining Armor
Trueborn Alicorn, Keeper of the Ancient Magics of Harmony
Raiser of the Sun and the Moon
A second letter is attached to the first, dated the same.
We, the assembled and allied monarchs of the Crystal Empire, do give the full weight of our unanimous approval and support to the daughter of our liege lady, Princess Flurry Heart. We stand as one with her, and oppose the usurpers and traitors who hold the government of Equestria.
Signed,
Notary Public, Regent in absentia of Equestria
Princess Valinya of Yakyakistan
Clifford the Red, Diamond Dog High Alpha
Queen Chrysalis II of [REDACTED]
1110 AF, New Canterlot City
The days had become a monotonous drone. Every morning, Emberglow woke up, spending a pleasant breakfast with her parents before reporting to her Knight. Then she did whatever inane busywork Lady Turquoise had prepared for her, while the Knight busied herself with whatever research she was doing into the Northern Empire. Each afternoon they engaged in fitness training and sparring, which remained an exercise in patience for Emberglow due to her ongoing struggles with martial arts. On Wednesday evenings she went to sermons, but now she had to attend with her Knight, rather than her family.
As a Knight Jubilant, Lady Turquoise was an honorary confessor, and as such was frequently asked to speak short sermons of her own. She was well spoken, with a cheerful, musical cadence to her sermons that delighted her listeners. It seemed at odds with the short, often surly behavior Emberglow encountered in the Knight’s office, which was a dissonance that made Emberglow uncomfortable. It wasn’t that the Knight was dishonest, or even a bad pony. She was just abrasive in private, and Emberglow didn’t really know how to react.
It didn’t help that she was currently cut off from her best friend. Sure, talking things out with her parents had helped a little bit, as had the cupcakes; there was a kind of magic in sugar and frosting and rainbow sprinkles that defied explanation. But there was still always a raw, aching abscess in her chest whenever she thought about Lofty and the friendship she had lost.
Emberglow knew where he was living, of course. The Tale family had two different manses around New Canterlot City, and before their fallout Lofty had told her where he would be staying. Emberglow had flown past the gated grounds of the modest estate twice, and each time she had paused to stare at the huge mansion for several moments. Both times, though, she’d lost her nerve before she could even approach the polished gate. She wanted to talk to him, but she had no idea where she would begin. She didn’t even know if he would be home when she went by. Or if he would even agree to see her, for that matter.
It was with a heavy and conflicted heart, then, that Emberglow approached the Jubilant Annex about a month after starting her squiring. By now, the baristas at the café were well aware of her standing order, and an aproned earth pony was already standing ready with a tray bearing two steaming black coffees for her when she stepped through the front door. She took the tray and trudged up the stairs towards Lady Turquoise’s office with drooping ears and tail, slipping in to see that Lady Turquoise was already poring over a heavy tome splayed open on her desk. The only greeting the Knight spared Emberglow was an impatient grunt.
It was a pattern that Emberglow was sadly now accustomed to. She would enter with the coffee, deliver Lady Turquoise’s drink to her, receive at best a grunt or a single, grudging word of gratitude, and then she would sit down and wait to be acknowledged. Once she’d tried to ask if there was anything she could do to help, and had received only a glare in response.
This morning didn’t look to be shaping up any better; Lady Turquoise’s mane was in disarray, and her eyes were surrounded by the dark rings of sleep deprivation. The Knight barely looked up to accept her coffee cup, dragging the steaming mug over with a hoof and taking a quick sip, only to jerk away and nearly drop the mug at the temperature.
“Um, it’s hot,” Emberglow ventured, earning herself a glare from the Knight. She merely shrugged in response, blowing at the surface of her own drink before taking a cautious sip. “Making any progress, my Lady?” she asked casually. Another grunt. “Anything I can help with?” No response. Emberglow couldn’t help a disappointed sigh from escaping her lips, which finally earned the attention of the older Knight.
“Am I boring you, squire?” Lady Turquoise asked, her voice strained and impatient.
“No, ma’am,” Emberglow said quickly, but the Knight wouldn’t be put off that easily.
“Have I offended you somehow, squire? Maybe your experiences are not as stimulating as you’re used to, hmm?” Lady Turquoise snarled, standing.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” Emberglow yelped, suddenly nervous at the unexpected show of temper from her Knight. Lady Turquoise glared at her for a second, before a wave of weariness washed over the older mare’s expression.
“Sorry,” Lady Turquoise muttered, slumping back into her pillow with a sigh of exasperation.
“Your research isn’t going well?” Emberglow ventured cautiously. The Knight shook her head.
“I was up so late last night I fell asleep at my desk. When I woke up, I picked up where I left off. More useless records, more empty theories, more nothing.”
“You’re researching the Northern Empire?” Emberglow asked, remembering the books she’d fetched for Lady Turquoise on their first day together. Lady Turquoise nodded absently. “Why?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Lady Turquoise waved a hoof dismissively. It was the same thing every time Emberglow had asked about whatever her mysterious project was. “It’s all a waste of time anyways.”
“I thought you called it your life’s work?” Emberglow asked. Lady Turquoise snorted.
“Life’s work, stymied by the Mystics, the Adamant, and even my own brothers and sisters.” Her voice trailed off in a defeated sigh. “Nopony’s interested in Lady Turquoise’s pet project.”
“You never asked,” Emberglow muttered, before she could stop herself. She hastily took a sip of her coffee, trying to hide her sudden impulsive words behind the gesture. It didn’t work — she could see Lady Turquoise’s glare from behind her cup. Nervously, she set the cup back down.
“What was that, Squire Emberglow?” Lady Turquoise asked, a cold anger overlaying the weariness in her voice.
Emberglow twiddled her hooves, glancing down at them nervously as her ears splayed back. “You never asked me if I was interested, Lady Turquoise. You’ve never really let me help, except for fetching your books and notes. You’ve never even told me what the project is.”
“You’re a squire, Emberglow,” Lady Turquoise said dismissively. Emberglow felt a pang of anger of her own, surging at the condescension and contempt in Lady Turquoise’s tone. “There’s nothing really you could do—”
“You never asked!” Emberglow shouted, stomping a hoof on the office floor. Lady Turquoise looked up in surprise, and even Emberglow jumped at the sudden volume of her voice. But it was too late to take back now. Like water rushing from a breaking dam or toothpaste out of the tube, once Emberglow had shouted her anger flowed out of her without filter. “You never once asked me for help! You never once used me as a resource! All I’ve ever been is a burden, a punishment! You stubborn mule! Do you even realize how aggravating it is to come in here, day after day, and sit here and watch as you drive both of us crazy? Why can’t you just use me as the tool and the help that I’m supposed to be?” She banged a hoof down on the desk for emphasis, and the rattling of the wood knocked her half-full ceramic coffee mug to the floor. It clattered with a splash of hot liquid all over Emberglow’s front hooves, and the sharp sting of pain across her legs jolted her out of her tirade. She yelped and jerked to her hooves, away from the steaming liquid.
A silence fell over the pair. As the seconds ticked by, Emberglow was slowly filled with a cold, oozing terror.
"Are you done?” Lady Turquoise finally whispered, her voice quivering with rage. Emberglow looked up with growing dread, her eyes slowly raising up the cluttered desk, over the open book, and finally to the angrily burning eyes of her Knight. She cringed at the rage she saw, looking away. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and all she could do was nod. “Good. Get out.”
“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow whimpered as she fled the office. She didn’t bother to try and protect her dignity while dashing out of the Jubilant Annex; her hooves pounded the floor as she galloped down the stairs and out the front door, earning herself several shocked looks. As soon as she was outside she took wing, spreading her feathered appendages and launching herself into flight away from the building and her Knight.
Outside, the day was overcast. While there weren’t nearly enough pegasi to keep the entirety of the Diarchy in controlled weather patterns, the New Canterlot City Weather Bureau kept the skies above the capitol to a tight schedule. Rain and storms were scheduled weeks in advance, and announced in the newspaper. Emberglow hadn’t been paying much attention to the weather news; perhaps it was going to rain today, or maybe the schedule had called simply for cloud cover. There were a few weather ponies in the skies, dressed in the distinct bright orange uniforms of their profession. They looked questioningly in her direction as she gained altitude, but nopony bothered or challenged her. Her squire’s robes even earned her a few respectful nods. She flew until she found a cloud that was solid enough to land on, and far enough from any of the workers who were building the cloud cover. Once she found a suitable cloud, Emberglow sat down to think.
She let out a surprised moan of relief as she felt the cool moisture on her burned hooves. She looked down, remembering the hot coffee she’d spilled all over herself. With her trained eye, she looked at the burns; first degree at most, not a big concern. She slumped down into the cold wet cloud, ignoring the temperature as she tried to lose herself in her thoughts.
Things were bad. Not ‘get kicked out of Squirehood’ bad, but certainly ‘stern censure by her Knight, and by the dean of the Ivy Seminary’ bad. Squires may not be permanent residents at the Seminary any longer, but they were still students, and their assessments and examinations were still conducted by Knights assigned to the Seminary. What happened to a Squire who mouthed off to her Knight? It was unthinkable, and yet she had done it.
By all the Saints, what had she been thinking? What would she do now? She slumped into the cloud, her natural pegasus resilience protecting her from the cold wet seeping into her robes. She lost herself in the quiet peacefulness of the cloud.
“Excuse me, my Lady?” said a soft voice from behind her. Emberglow jumped to her hooves, startled. She glanced behind to see an older pegasus mare, dressed in a weather worker uniform.
“Um, sorry, am I in your way?” Emberglow said worriedly. “And I’m a Squire, not a Knight. You don’t have to call me Lady.”
“Of course, uh, ma’am,” the pegasus said. She was older, her orange hair fading to silver, with an eggshell white coat. “I’m sorry to bother you…” She was hovering just above the cloud line, and she dropped down onto her hooves, bouncing gently on the cloud. Emberglow watched her forehooves twitch, as if the older mare was about to bow to her. It was expected for Knights, but she was merely a Squire. The weather mare stopped herself, with great effort. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
“I’m just fine, thank you,” Emberglow said politely. “I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you.”
“Not at all!” the weather mare protested. “I just need to bounce on this cloud a bit to let the rain out.”
“I am in your way,” Emberglow said, flapping her wings just enough to lift off the cloud. “I’m so sorry.”
The mare opened her mouth to protest the apology, closed it again, and then shrugged. While Emberglow watched, curious, the mare kicked gently off of the cloud and began bouncing on it, made solid and spongy by the innate pegasus magic in her hooves. As the mare bounced, rain began to sprinkle down on the city below.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions about what you’re doing?” Emberglow asked. “You don’t have to say yes,” she added hastily, hopefully to forestall any attempt by the mare to assent only out of respect for Emberglow’s position.
“Not at all,” the mare said. “This part of the job’s really easy. No science or skill or training needed, just bouncing. All the hard work is done.” Emberglow could see other weather ponies in the distance, each one bouncing on clouds that had been painstakingly placed to create a perfect cloud cover.
“Does the bouncing affect the rate of rainfall?” Emberglow asked.
“Yup. Faster bouncing means more of a downpour, slower a light misting. Our schedule today called for a drizzle, so it’s gentle, relaxing bouncing for us today.” The older mare eyed the young Squire up and down as she hovered in the air, taking special note of the squire’s face. “Would you like to try?”
“Me? Uh, I’m not a weather mare,” Emberglow said uncertainly.
“Bah, that doesn’t matter,” the old pony scoffed. “Like I said, all the hard stuff’s done, ma’am. It doesn’t take any sort of skill or practice. Give it a try. Nice, slow bounces like I was doing, nothing taxing.”
Emberglow landed on the cloud, once again feeling the strange mix of wetness and fluffiness on her hooves. She tensed her muscles and jumped gently into the air. The cloud was much springier than she had expected, the natural bounce to the cloud sending her higher than she expected. The sensation of bouncing on the cloud reminded her of jumping on her parent’s queen size bed as a foal. She giggled at both the sensation and the mental image, adjusting her next bounce so that it would have less force.
“You get to do this all the time?” Emberglow asked with a grin. “And you get paid?” The older mare laughed.
“Not often enough. I love a good rainstorm, if only for the bouncing,” the weather mare said as she laughed. Emberglow liked her voice. She’d never met her grandparents, who had all passed on before she was born, but the old mare sounded like her mental image of a grandmother. “Um, it looks like you needed a bit of bouncing yourself, ma’am.”
“Did I really look that off?” Emberglow asked as she continued to bounce on her cloud.
“Stormier than the cloud you’re on, ma’am,” the weather mare replied. “I always thought a good bounce on a cloud was the perfect solution for a cloudy day.”
“Literally, right?” Emberglow said, laughing. “My family’s all earth ponies, so they always use cupcakes.”
“Hah! That’d work too,” the weather mare said.
“You won’t get in trouble because I’m doing your job?” she asked. The weather mare shook her head.
“No ma’am,” the pony replied. “I’ll be bouncing on over thirty spots over the next four hours. I don’t think anypony will mind at all if you take a few moments at one of the spots.”
“Bouncing at different spots?” Emberglow asked. The work, while silly and fun in a way that brought back foalhood memories, was physically more difficult than she thought it would be. “Why’s that?”
“Rainfall, when it occurs without pegasus intervention, occurs in patches and sheets, at random. We move around to simulate a more uneven pattern, to give a more realistic experience to the ponies down below.”
“Don’t you get tired?” Emberglow asked, looking at the mare’s legs. She was old, yes, but fit; there was no fat on the weather mare at all.
“Of course we do, ma’am. It takes a strong pony to do this work, whatever the ground-bound think. Lots of endurance. Doesn’t mean it’s not fun, though.”
“Very fun,” Emberglow said. “Um, I just realized I don’t know your name. I’m Emberglow.”
“Painted Sunrise. Friends call me Paint, ma’am.”
“May I call you Paint, then?” Emberglow laughed. “You helped lift me out of my funk, and you let me bounce on your cloud.”
“Yeah, such a sacrifice I made, letting you do the job I’m getting paid to do,” Painted Sunrise said. Emberglow giggled. “Be my guest.”
“Okay, Paint,” Emberglow said. “And thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it, ma’am,” Paint said, waving her off with a hoof. “Ya don’t raise six foals without picking up the signs of a good teenaged funk in progress, or come up with a few strategies for diffusing one.”
“Six?” Emberglow said.
“And twelve grandfoals, and counting. Thirteen by next month. With seven pegasi among them, thank the Saints!” Paint said with obvious pride. Emberglow understood the pride. With that many grandfoals, two or three pegasi would have been the statistically likely number. Having seven was clearly a sign of the Saint’s favor.
“You must have been doing something right, then,” Emberglow said.
“I hope so,” Paint replied. The two mares chatted politely about Paint’s family for nearly a half hour. The older grandmother mare was more than happy to brag about her grandfoals, and Emberglow didn’t have any problem letting the weather pony speak about her family. Paint was perfectly polite, and carefully never asked Emberglow about the nature of her earlier mood. After a half hour, Paint reluctantly mentioned that she had to move on to a different spot.
“Thanks so much for letting me bounce the cloud, and for the chat,” Emberglow said. “It was exactly what I needed.”
“No problem at all, dear. I mean, uh, ma’am,” Paint said. “Don’t suppose you’d like a word of advice from somepony who’s seen a few more years from you?”
“Uh, sure,” Emberglow said, and the older mare patted her on the withers.
“Whatever it is that’s got you down, it can’t be so bad,” Paint said. “Just be patient, and let things play out. You’ll see the other side of the clouds soon enough. And if you don’t, just find one to bounce on, okay? Nopony in the Weather Service is gonna mind if you flit on up here for a bit of relaxation, hmm? It’s practically in your blood. We pegasi’re built to work up here, even if some of us choose other, harder paths.” She glanced at the symbol of the Saints embroidered on Emberglow’s slightly damp robes. “Honor to you, Squire Emberglow. Thanks for giving me an extra break today.”
“Thank you, Paint. Maybe I’ll come up to visit next time there’s rain scheduled.”
“You do that, ma’am.” Paint said with a smile, as Emberglow flapped her wings, gaining only a few feet of altitude before slipping through the rain cloud towards the ground. The air above the cloud had been a bit chilly and damp, but as soon as she moved through the wet cloud to below, she was spattered with the light rain as she flew through it. It didn’t take more than a second for Emberglow to remember why she hated flying in the rain. While trying to shield her eyes with one hoof, she was barely able to identify Merchant’s Walk, let alone Emerald Street. It wasn’t that the rain was too hard, it was just that Emberglow was quite unfamiliar with finding her way home from the air. Though the rain didn’t help either.
After a long few minutes of flying and a bit of trial and error, she managed to find her way to the Merchant’s walk and landed on the street. She stayed earthbound while she trotted her way to her parents’ shop. Once on the ground, it was pretty easy to find her way in the light rain.
“Silly mare! Why are you out in the rain!?” came a familiar friendly voice, interrupting Emberglow right before she reached her parent’s shop. The lights that shone out of Oak Chips’ shop were bright, lighting up the gloomy late morning with beams that spilled out into the street. The carved figurines that filled the window displays cast oddly cheerful shadows into the street. The door was open, and the old, tan colored earth pony looked out into the drizzle at Emberglow. “Come in for a moment, there is something I need to show you.” Her friend’s voice sounded odd, as if concerned. “I will make coffee. Silly mares shouldn’t be out in the rain anyways, getting cold, getting sick. Aren’t you some kind of doctor?”
“Some kind, maybe,” Emberglow said with a giggle. “And I’ve been drinking real coffee from the Jubilant Annex, brewed by professionals. It’s spoiled me for the instant stuff.” She followed him inside, and he closed the door behind her.
“Wait here,” Oak Chips said, pointing at the welcome mat just inside his door. Emberglow was content to wait and drip on the mat as he stepped into his shop’s back room to fetch her a towel. She took the time to look around his shop.
Oak Chip’s shop was an exercise in controlled chaos. The shelves and display counters were all a mismatched hodgepodge of different styles, colors, materials, and ages. The carved wooden figurines that were displayed all around his shop also kept to no theme or pattern, though most were different kinds of ponies. Each one had a unique costume and pose, and some were even articulate; Oak Chips had once shown her the clever little metal hinges he used to give the toys some degree of movement. There were also non ponies; griffons and dragons and zebras. There were monsters like the Timberwolf she’d seen him carving years ago.
Emberglow hadn’t been in for a few months, but she loved his store. She loved his figurines, carved with a range of detail, from simplistic foal’s toys to exquisite lifelike works of art. She loved his silly collection of shelves and counters. She loved the smells; wood shavings, glues, stains, paint, and instant coffee. Emberglow could even see a half-full mug sitting next to the rocking chair that Oak Chips would drag outside on sunny days. It now sat next to a shelf full of half-finished tiny wooden ponies. Emberglow recognized a chess set in progress; she could identify each piece he had completed.
Oak Chips reemerged bearing a clean but slightly threadbare yellow towel. He tossed it to Emberglow, who caught it with a quiet “thanks”. She took a moment to dry off her fur and feathers, patting down her mane and tail as well. She was sure she looked a mess.
“What did you need to show me? You sounded worried,” Emberglow asked.
“Do you know a stallion Squire with a black mane, and green fur? Earth pony?”
“Lofty?” Emberglow said, surprised. “How do you know Lofty?”
“Ah, you do know him. Is he your stallionfriend?”
“No!” Emberglow yelped. Oak Chips laughed at her panic. “We’re just friends. Or, we were. I don’t know now.”
“A spurned lover, then?” Oak Chips teased. Emberglow felt her face heating, and she hid it by scrubbing her face with the towel. “Sorry, silly mare. I couldn’t help myself.”
“How do you know him?” Emberglow repeated her question, her voice muffled by the towel. She knew she wasn’t quite ready to stop hiding her face just yet.
“He’s currently passed out, very drunk, on the bed in my guest room,” Oak Chips said casually.
“What?” she yelped, this time completely dropping her towel in shock. Oak Chips eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Oh, you young ponies and your drama. So exciting. Is better than a book, sometimes,” he sighed melodramatically.
“Oak Chips,” Emberglow growled, her voice annoyed. “Is he okay? What happened?”
“Silly stallion was stumbling down the road towards your parent’s shop, in the middle of the rain, very unsteady on his hooves. Even all of the rain hadn’t washed off the stench of wine and whiskey. You young people have no appreciation for real drink, only cheap terrible alcohol. He was calling out for you. Loudly. Lucky nopony else was on the street to hear him, it might have been embarrassing.”
“So what happened?”
“I convinced silly stallion to come inside out of the rain. Told him I’d find you and bring you here. He hugged me, said thank you, then immediately passed out. I lifted silly stallion into my guest bed and tucked him in. When he wakes up, we feed him coffee and water so maybe we can find out why he was tripping down the street crying your name, hmm?”
“Oh Saints,” Emberglow moaned. “Are you sure nopony heard him?”
“Nopony was out in the rain, Emberglow. Your secret love affair with silly stallion is safely secret, though it wouldn’t have been for long if I hadn’t convinced him to come in.”
“I told you, it’s not… he’s not… grr!” Emberglow snarled with frustration. “Look, we were friends, he asked me out, and I turned him down. He took it very poorly, and we haven’t spoken in weeks. This is the first I’ve heard from him since we fought.”
“Why do you have to spoil an old stallion’s fun, hmm? You are rude, silly mare.” Oak Chips said with an amused look at her. “All dry?” Emberglow nodded. “Good. I’ll get us coffee while we wait for Sleeping Beauty to sober up a bit. Then we find out why he needed to brave the storm to come meet his lady love, hmm?”
“I’d rather not,” Emberglow growled.
“Don’t be so dramatic, silly mare. Come, help me with the coffee and then you can check on your friend with your doctor hocus-pocus to make sure he’s okay,” Oak Chips said. He beckoned her toward the kitchen, and she followed him in.
Oak Chips’ kitchen was just like his shop, a hodgepodge of dishes and appliances that he’d collected over decades. The kitchen table was clearly never used for actual meals; Emberglow had always seen him eat in his shop, or in his chair just outside his front door. The weathered table was piled with mail and newspapers. His dishes had been collected over his life; no two matched, and each one had a story behind it. Emberglow had heard several.
She helped him prepare three mugs of coffee, pulling mismatched stoneware mugs from his cluttered cupboards, then filled a fourth mug with cool water from the sink. Then Oak Chips showed her to the guest room.
For some reason, Emberglow had expected snoring. Certainly, the figure of Lofty Tale sprawled out on the bed, limbs akimbo and drool leaking from his open maw, suggested that a loud, grating snore should be emanating from the drunken picture. He was twitching in his sleep, and he’d kicked off the sheets that Oak Chips had drawn over him. He was not wearing his squire robes; instead, he was wearing a ruffled loose white shirt and brown pants. Emberglow knew enough from working with her parents to know that the materials alone that made up his clothing would cost about half as much as the entire inventory in her parent’s shop. It hurt her almost physically to see the silk of his shirt rumpled and folded, soaked with water and stained with alcohol. Lofty slept fitfully, twitching and kicking as his brow furrowed.
The room itself was bland and comfortable, but there was nothing of Oak Chips in the sparse décor. There was a nightstand and a small chest of drawers, and the only hint of personality in the bedroom was a hand sewn comforter, now kicked off into a heap at the base of the bed. There were also two pillows on the floor that Lofty had apparently kicked off. Oak Chips set down the tray of mugs right on the nightstand, fairly close to Lofty’s head. Emberglow could have sworn she saw his nostrils twitch as the scent of coffee wafted through the room.
“That should wake him up, hmm?” Oak Chips said, pulling over one of the pillows to sit. Emberglow did likewise.
“Maybe if only to complain,” Emberglow said with a snort, remembering all of the times Lofty Tale had complained about the cheap coffee served in the Ivy Seminary. She hadn’t understood then what he’d meant. Not until discovering the café at the Jubilant Annex.
“Bah. There is nothing wrong with my coffee,” Oak Chips grunted, sounding offended, though Emberglow knew the old pony well enough to hear the tease in his voice. “Is cheap, saves me money for more important things.”
“It’s just fine, Oak,” Emberglow said, retrieving her cup and taking a sip. It wasn’t really, but she could humor the old stallion. He rolled his eyes, sensing the deflection, but began to drink his own beverage.
“What are you going to say to him when he wakes up?” Oak Chips asked softly. There was no hint of teasing in his voice now, but Emberglow still slumped down in her seat, shoulders and ears drooping.
“I don’t know,” Emberglow whispered. “I just want to be friends again.”
“Stallions are fragile creatures, silly mare.”
“I know. I don’t want to break him. I never did.”
“I know, Emberglow,” Oak Chips said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. “When he wakes, make him drink water and coffee. Nothing will really make him sober up quicker, but you’ll be able to have a conversation. You young ponies and your drama. Fun, but too much fun for old bones. I’m going to finish my latest project.”
“The chess set? Looks good so far,” Emberglow said, but her heart wasn’t in the banter. Oak gave her a grin and slipped out of the room with his own mug, and Emberglow settled in to wait.
It didn’t take long, but that didn’t mean that Emberglow wasn’t tempted to upend the cool water cup on her friend to expedite the process. Finally he stirred with a moan, and two bleary eyes opened to take in the room.
“Where am I?” Lofty Tale slurred drunkenly, his eyes unfocused.
“Hey, Lofty. You’re in a friend’s house. It was raining, so he made you come inside before you caught something.” Or said or did something too embarrassing, Emberglow thought but didn’t say.
“Emberglow? Izzat you? Ugh, I smell cafeteria coffee, we at the Seminary?”
“No, we’re at a friend’s house near my parent’s shop. Where you were headed, drunk, crying out my name and weaving down the street.”
“I was? Uh… oh. Yeah, maybe. I don’t remember?” Lofty closed his eyes. “I’mma sleep some more, kay?”
“Lofty…” Emberglow began with a sigh. “Please sit up for a moment. Have some coffee. I think we might need to talk. I want to talk.”
“You wanna talk?” Lofty mumbled, his eyes still closed. “You don’t wanna talk. You hate me.”
The words stung more than Emberglow had expected. “Lofty I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I’ve missed you these past weeks. Missed you so much. I just didn’t know what to say.” She blinked at the wetness in her eyes, nudging the tray on the nightstand towards the stallion to hide her tears. “Here, drink these.” He eyed the coffee suspiciously, and the glass of water.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Coffee and water. If we’re going to talk, I’m going to need you just a little bit more lucid.”
“Kay,” Lofty grunted. He sat up unsteadily and reached for the coffee mug. She had to help his shaky hooves as he lifted the beverage to his lips. “Yuck.”
“Hush, you. My friend isn’t rich. Not everypony can afford fancy coffee.”
“Not that. No cream or sugar. Yuck.”
“Drunk beggars can’t be choosers. Drink the coffee and the water.”
It was clear from Lofty Tale’s confused look that he didn’t quite comprehend the situation quite yet, but something in Emberglow’s commanding tone made him comply. Emberglow watched him as he sat on the bed and drank the liquids. His eyes were darting about the room, looking at everything except Emberglow’s eyes.
Emberglow was glad there was no clock in Oak Chips’ guest room, so she couldn’t count the minutes that passed. It was a painful silence as the two young ponies tried very hard to ignore each other. Each second hurt, but the weight of the moment was pressing so hard against Emberglow that she was terrified to open her mouth and end it. She felt like she was in a mountain avalanche zone, where a single out of place sound or word could cause disaster to crash down on their heads. From what she could see of Lofty’s expression, it looked like he felt the same.
It felt like an eternity passed, but soon the tension was too much, and she finally broke the silence.
“I missed you,” Emberglow whispered. It was the same thing she’d said earlier.
“Kinda your fault,” Lofty muttered, but then flinched. “Sorry. I don’t mean that.”
“It’s okay if you do,” Emberglow breathed, a lump in her throat. “I saw what was happening, and I did nothing to stop you. I could have said something sooner.”
Lofty grunted. The silence descended again, settling over the room like a cold fog. Finally Lofty stood, the sudden movement unsteady. Emberglow reached out to catch him if he fell, but a single glance stopped her. It wasn’t an angry glance, but there was clear rejection in his eyes.
“Please don’t go. We need to talk,” she pleaded.
“Not going anywhere,” Lofty said, with an odd urgency in his voice. “Except the little stallion’s room. Where-?“ Fortunately, Emberglow had been a guest at this shop often enough to know where the washroom was. She rose quickly to open the door for Lofty.
“It’s just the door on your right,” Emberglow said, pointing, as Lofty stumbled past her into the bathroom. Oak Chips was nowhere to be seen, though Emberglow could hear the sounds of his knife scraping against wood from his usual place at the front of the shop. He closed the door behind him, and Emberglow wandered out into the shop floor to give the stallion some privacy. She didn’t want to intrude on Oak Chip’s work, as the old pony seemed deeply engrossed in the finer details of his carving. He glanced up briefly as she entered.
“Your friend okay?” he asked, and Emberglow could have hugged him for not teasing her. She nodded.
“Bathroom break.”
“That’ll happen,” Oak Chips nodded sagely. “Your talk going well?”
“No,” Emberglow sighed. Oak Chips watched her to see if she would say more. Finally he shrugged and went back to his carving. Finally she heard the sound of Lofty Tale turning on the bathroom sink to wash his hooves, then the bathroom door opened. She listened to the young stallion’s hoofsteps as he went back into the guest room, hesitating a moment before following after him. She gently closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
Lofty was back on the bed, sitting down, his gaze towards the wall. He held the warm coffee mug in his hooves.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he muttered as Emberglow trotted in after him. She sat down on the bed next to Lofty, trying to ignore how much it hurt when he flinched away.
“Start with why you’re this drunk, and it’s not even lunchtime yet,” Emberglow scolded, unable to keep the reproach out of her voice.
“Lady Mercy gave me the day off. She called it a ‘mental health day’. I’ve been having a rough time since we last spoke, and even Lady Mercy has noticed,” he admitted. “As soon as I showed up this morning, she sent me away. I had nothing better to do, so-“
“So you got smashed?” Emberglow asked. It was an effort to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“You’ve never met any of my family, have you?” he retorted. “If you had, you wouldn’t be so judgmental about a desire to drink. My older sister is the head of the household. She hates me, and has never been shy about the fact. My parents have always found some reason to be disappointed in everything I do. Honestly, the only room in the entire manor that was safe from their disapproving eyebrows and their oily condescension is the family liquor vault.”
“So you hid there so you could show off your prodigious talent at self-control?” Emberglow snorted. Lofty heard it and grinned at her, though it was an expression twisted with a hint of bitterness.
“I couldn’t possibly think of a better use of my day off then consuming way too much of my father’s alcohol, so I sat in the vault and helped myself. Stayed down there and drank until Stiff Starch found me. Family butler. He, uh, convinced me to leave the property before Grace or my parents could find me and cause a scene.”
“Is being a squire so hard?” Emberglow asked. “How is Lady Mercy?”
“Lady Mercy Song is just fine. Great, in fact. I see what you see in her, Emberglow. She’s going to be an amazing mentor. She’s patient and kind.” Lofty sighed. “She’s so smart, too. She knows something’s wrong with me, and she keeps asking.” He glanced up at Emberglow where she sat on the bed next to him, only to flinch away again when his gaze met her. “She asks about you a lot. I think she knows you’re what’s wrong with me.” Lofty seemed to realize how he’d worded his last sentence a little too late, looking back up at her in panic. “Not that you’re what’s wrong with me! I mean, it’s because of you that—“ Lofty stopped in a panic and took in a sharp breath, and Emberglow had to raise a hoof to hide the laugh that Lofty’s floundering dragged out of her.
“You want to try that again?” Emberglow said wryly, getting another twisted smile in return.
“Lady Mercy is too smart to not notice how I lock up and go quiet whenever she brings you up,” Lofty admitted. “I’m running out of excuses.”
“If you were completely honest with her, what would you say?” Emberglow asked. “If Lady Mercy Song asked you directly what was wrong, what would you tell her?”
“That my best friend broke my heart?” Lofty whispered, blinking at the tears welling in his eyes. “That I took a risk and got burned? Or maybe that I said some awful things to my best friend and it’s eating me up inside? One of those things, maybe.” He choked back a sob. “I’ve had a few weeks to think about our friendship, Emberglow. You knew how I felt long before I said anything, didn’t you?”
She closed her eyes, unable to look at him. “Yeah,” she whispered. The confession felt like vomit coming out of her throat.
“Tons of times I dropped hints, and you picked up on them and tossed them aside. It’s easy to see in hindsight how uncomfortable I was making you, Emberglow. I was a bad friend.”
“No, Lofty, you—“
“Don’t make excuses for me,” he interrupted with a slashing movement with one hoof. “I should have seen the signs that you weren’t interested long before I said anything. It’s just, at the time, I think I was lost in my own fantasies. I saw it all, Emberglow. I’d somehow convince you to enter a different order so we could be together. We’d date, become special someponies, fall deeply in love. I saw a wedding, a home together, foals…”
“Lofty, I’m gay,” Emberglow interjected without warning, surprising even herself at the confession. She hadn’t planned on it, it had just sort of jumped from her lips. Lofty’s expression was similar to the same one he’d worn when Adorjan the griffon had struck him on the head with a practice blade.
“...oh,” he stated simply. “That makes sense.”
“That’s it?” Emberglow cried. “That’s your only reaction? ‘That makes sense’?” She wasn’t quite sure why she felt angry, but she did. “I share with you my deepest, scariest secret, something I haven’t even shared with my parents, and that’s all you have to say?”
“You wanted me to say something else?” Lofty Tale asked, bemused.
“I don’t know!” Emberglow nearly shrieked. “I… I should have told you ages ago. You’re my best friend. I’m supposed to be able to trust you with this sort of thing! You’re not a bad friend, I am. Maybe if I’d told you earlier, you wouldn’t have… I mean, maybe you could have…” She threw up her hooves in frustration. “I don’t know. I should have told you.”
“I guess… I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me now?” Lofty said, sounding unsure. Emberglow looked up at him and their eyes met, really met, for the first time in the conversation. It hurt so bad how much she wanted to hope when she met his gaze. There was pain in his eyes, but also tenderness. Was it too much to hope for reconciliation, as well? “Do you want to talk about it at all?” Lofty asked. His voice was hesitant; Emberglow could tell what he wanted her to say. Good thing it was what she wanted to say, too.
“Not at all,” she replied, her voice husky and her eyes wet. “What now?”
“Now? I go home, I think. We… try to move past this. It’s my fault, Emberglow. I made assumptions. But I’m still—“ he cut off suddenly, changing what he was going to say. “I still feel the same way, Emberglow, even though I know you don’t. But even though part of me wants more, I want what we had back. It’s going to take time. Maybe a lot of time.”
“I know. Maybe we can write each other letters? Be friends from a distance, for a bit,” Emberglow suggested. Lofty nodded. “You have to talk to Lady Mercy, too. Knights Radiant don’t just heal the body, they’re trained to heal the heart, too. Maybe don’t tell her about the, uh, about what I sort of blurted out there.”
“Of course not. That’s your secret,” Lofty reassured her. “I’d never break your trust that way.”
Both ponies jumped when there was a sudden knock on the door. They both looked up, embarrassed, as Oak Chips nosed his way into the room, a tray perched on his back. It contained a pair of sandwiches on mismatched plates.
“Lunch time,” Oak Chips announced. He looked Lofty Tale up and down. “You’re looking better, boy. Feeling more yourself?”
“Yes, sir, sorry sir,” Lofty said quickly. He jumped off the bed to help the older pony with the lunch tray, which he set on the bed.
“Should be,” Oak Chips grunted with disapproval.
“Oak—“ Emberglow began, but Oak Chips held up a hoof, his gaze on Lofty.
“You should be sorry, pony. Showing up on the street drunk? Calling out this young lady’s name while you weaved down the street? What if there had been other ponies? You may not know this, little squire, but Emberglow is a bit of a darling on our street. Kind of like the niece some of us never had. She’s a local hero for us on Emerald Street. Do you realize what kind of damage you could have caused? What kind of trouble for Emberglow? For her parents?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—“
“Obviously,” Oak Chips interrupted. “You didn’t think, you just got drunk. Little squire, you can’t be more than sixteen years old! What are you doing getting drunk at your age, and before lunch!”
“Um, can I—“ Emberglow tried to interject, but was cut off again.
“You acted the fool, little squire, and you’ll be lucky if there aren’t consequences for your friend here,” Oak Chips said. “I suppose you don’t care if something bad happens to you, but you never thought about potential consequences for Emberglow, did you?”
“N-no,” Lofty Tale stammered, looking pale.
“You didn’t think that after you sobered up and stumbled back to your huge manor, kept by your legion of servants, that maybe there might be side effects for Emberglow here.”
“I’m sorry,” Lofty said, cringing away from the older stallion. “You’re right, I didn’t think. You’re right about me, sir.”
“Don’t go calling me sir,” Oak Chips said sternly. “I’m just a pony, son.”
“But what is he supposed to call you? You were too busy yelling at him to let me officially introduce you,” Emberglow butted in quickly. Oak Chips glared at her, but she shrugged. “What? It’s true. Lofty, this is my friend Oak Chips. Oak, this is my dear friend Lofty Tale. He was the only real friend I had at the Seminary, and he stood up for me against near constant bullying. He’s a kind and loyal pony who made a mistake or two, and probably doesn’t deserve to be yelled at.” As she spoke, she had been slowly inserting herself between her two friends. “Now, thank you so much for lunch, Oak. Can we eat?”
It was a clumsy way to change the subject, but it worked. Lofty looked embarrassed at the compliment, and even the gruff old Oak Chips looked guilty about the way he’d laid into Lofty.
“Nothing stopping you,” Oak Chips grunted, motioning at the sandwiches. “I’ll leave you two alone again. Little squire, if what this silly mare says is true, thanks for taking care of her at school. That gives you a pass for your stupid choices today, but watch yourself in the future, hmm?”
“Of course,” Lofty said, his voice full of aristocratic politeness. “And thank you too, sir, for stopping me from bringing harm to my friend. I was not myself, and I’m afraid I made a poor first impression on you. I’m gratified to know my best friend has such zealous defenders.”
“Right. I’ll be leaving you two alone now, too much drama for old ponies.”
“But Oak Chips, I thought you said earlier young ponies and their drama are better than a good book?” Emberglow asked innocently.
“Bah! Silly mare!” Oak Chips grumped as he trotted out into his shop. The two squires giggled at the grumpy old pony, turning to their lunch. Oak Chips had prepared a pair of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the two of them, which they both ate gratefully. There were even two more cups of water. They lapsed into a concentrated silence as they ate.
“How is your squiring going?” Lofty asked. His voice was cautious and polite. There was genuine interest, but also a cautiousness that Emberglow wasn’t used to hearing from him.
“Poorly,” Emberglow admitted frankly. “I told my Knight off today and got banished from her office.”
“Nice one, Emberglow,” Lofty laughed. “You’ll have to try harder than that. You, yell at a Knight? It’ll never happen.” He paused, his eyes searching Emberglow’s face. “Oh Saints. You’re serious. You really yelled at your Knight.” Emberglow nodded, her face hot.
“Yes. I told her she was stupid,” Emberglow confessed. “And some other things. Broke my coffee mug on her floor.”
“You… um… why?” Lofty gaped. Emberglow sighed and told him an abbreviated version of the events that had led her here, as well as her time on the raincloud. When it was over he reached out a hoof and patted her on the shoulder.
“You’ll be fine. You’ll get in trouble, for sure, but I’ve never heard of a Squire being kicked out for something like this. There’s nothing to worry about; I’d just go see her tomorrow morning at your normal time and apologize.”
“That’s my plan,” Emberglow said. “I feel a little bad about what I said, but mostly I just feel bad about the way I said it. Lady Turquoise is being really frustrating, and she won’t even let me help her. Lady Mercy Song lets you help in her work, doesn’t she?”
“Oh yes. She’s been on duty at New Canterlot’s military hospital, helping with long term physical therapy patients. I don’t really have the training to be a nurse for her, but I’ve still been picking up a lot about medicine, first aid, and how the pony body works. I’ve been practicing my healing spells, too. I’ll never be as good as you or her, but I’m getting better.”
“You have no idea how jealous I am right now,” Emberglow muttered, and Lofty laughed guiltily.
“I thought you might be,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with one hoof. “How can I make it up to you?”
“By staying in touch. I need a friend right now, okay? Even if it just means writing letters,” Emberglow said. Lofty Tale nodded.
“I’ll do that. And, uh, Emberglow? I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for how you feel,” Emberglow said. “This is good. Better than I hoped, actually. I would have given almost anything to be friends with you again. Now it’s looking like I get my best friend back.”
“You’ll forgive me, then? For accusing you of leading me on?”
“Yes, I forgive you.” Emberglow said. Cautiously, she reached out her hooves to hug him, hesitating at the last second at his unsure look. She let her hooves drop, instead simply patting his own hoof. “As long as you write to me.”
“I promise.”
Oak Chips didn’t say a word to Lofty Tale as the two of them walked into the main shop floor, merely giving him a sharp glance as they walked out together.
“Thank you again, sir, for everything you’ve done,” Lofty said, glancing over the shop.
“You can make it home okay?” Oak Chips asked him. Lofty nodded.
“I might still be a little tipsy, but not as bad as earlier,” Lofty said. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll go straight home? No more weaving around Emerald Street screaming a mare’s name?”
“Yes sir. Straight home,” Lofty promised.
“Good.” Oak Chips grunted. He barely looked up from the Knight he was carving. Emberglow was pleased to see it was a pegasus. Lofty seemed interested in the chess set in progress; he glanced at Oak Chips for permission before picking up the Solar Diarch for the white set.
“These are incredible,” Lofty breathed softly. “You’re really good.”
“I should be,” Oak Chips said. “I’ve been working with wood for longer than you’ve been alive, little squire.” His voice was still grumpy, but Emberglow could sense the note of pride glowing through the gruff old stallion’s façade.
“Are these a commission?” Lofty asked. Oak Chips shook his head. “How much?”
“How much?” Oak Chips repeated. “They’re not even finished yet. Could be weeks. I’m not as quick as I used to be.”
“But still,” Lofty pled. “A hand carved wooden chess set? It’s gorgeous. I’d like to buy it if you’ll let me. I can pick it up when you’re done.”
“One hundred bits,” Oak Chips stated blandly. Emberglow nearly gasped. Oak never charged much more than the cost of materials, with barely enough markup to cover the rent on his shop. He claimed he had saved plenty of bits for his retirement while still working as a carpenter up in Stalliongrad. Compared to Oak’s usual prices, one hundred bits was a gouge. A total rip-off. Emberglow knew that if she’d asked to buy the chess set herself, she was sure the price wouldn’t have been more than thirty. Lofty Tale didn’t even blink.
“Done,” Lofty said, not even fazed by the number. Emberglow was about to protest when her friend spoke again. “That price does include a handmade case for the pieces though, right? Something as nice as the rest of the pieces?” Emberglow nearly grinned. Her friend wasn’t stupid.
“Of course,” Oak Chips groused. “Might take a few weeks.”
“Whenever is fine. I’ll drop by in a few weeks with the bits,” Lofty Tale said.
“It’ll be done,” Oak Chips said. Lofty nodded, and the two squires left Oak’s shop.
Outside, the rain was still falling at a gentle drizzle. Emberglow and Lofty faced each other in the rain. Neither seemed to want to be the first to speak. Finally Emberglow made the leap.
“Do you want to see my home?” Emberglow invited, motioning with one hoof to the store next door. Lofty shook his head.
“Not today, I think,” he said nervously. “But thanks for offering. I’ll… I’ll write. Good luck with your crazy Knight. I hope it goes well.”
“Thanks, Lofty. Be well.” The two friends parted, and Emberglow watched him go before turning and walking the few feet to her parents’ shop.
The door was closed and a sign hanging just at eye level read ‘Out to Lunch’. That was rare. Usually her parents ate lunch in shifts so the store could remain open. It wasn’t locked, which meant they were still inside, just not watching the shop. She opened the door and slipped inside.
“Mom? Dad? Are you guys upstairs?” she called out.
“Up here, sweetie,” her mother’s voice came from the spiral staircase. There was something off about her voice. She sounded nervous. Frightened, even. Emberglow hurried up the stairs into the living room.
“Mom, is everything okay? You sound…” She cut off as soon as she reached the top of the stairs and looked into the domestic scene in her family living room. Her parents were standing, looking quite nervously at the guest sitting on their loveseat. Needle Point was even shaking a little.
It was clear what was making them both so apprehensive about their current guest. It wasn’t every day, after all, that one served tea to a Knight.
“Emberglow. Glad you could finally make it,” Lady Turquoise said from Emberglow’s parents’ love seat. She looked angry, and she sounded annoyed, which was typical for her. The Knight was wearing her pink robes, only slightly damp from her trip through the rain to the tailor shop. “Thank you for the tea, Ms. Needle Point, Mr. Textile. It was lovely.” The Knight stood with an inscrutable look at Emberglow. “I’m going to be borrowing your daughter for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, my lady,” Needle Point bowed low. “We’re happy to serve you.” Lady Turquoise was already ignoring them, her intense gaze already on her young squire. Emberglow’s heart pounded with trepidation.
“Squire? Let’s go. We need to talk.”
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Hey, I don't know whether this has been done before or not, but would it be okay with you if I introduced your stories to some groups which promote amazing but underappreciated stories like yours?
I was wondering how Flurry would handle having to watch all the bullshit go down, and I have to say I greatly enjoy how audibly pissed she is behind the royal politeness. I also find it fascinating that in the wake of Twilight's death, Flurry has become the sole celestial keeper. Does this mean Cadance is dead too?
10325829
Yes please!
I have to admit I am socially awkward online (much more so than I am in real life) and so I've always felt a bit uncomfortable and confused about the subject of promoting my own work. I've done a bit here and there, but if anybody out there has any better ideas, I'm all ears.
10325849
Thank you! That bit was really fun to write. The thin veneer of politeness over a bubbling rage and grief was exactly what I was going for, and I'm glad you liked it.
In answer to your question, you'll just have to keep reading, won't you?
10326586
So I recommended your story to Seattle's Angels and Tag-a-long's Book Club, and I also added your story to the group Buried Treasures. I hope that helps!
10330103
Oh! Nice, thanks for doing that. Would be cool to see SA feature this story
Bad news: Like I said last week, delayed chapter this week. Chapter 9 should be ready next Tuesday, I hope. It's kinda messy, so no guarantees. Cyonix is a saint.
Good news: check out my blog post for a new 'picture' of Emberglow!
Quite the rollercoaster, this chapter. Went from being harrowing to cozy and right back to harrowing again.
Though, part of me wonders how refreshing it might be for Turquoise to see someone finally drop the bullshit and start speaking to her like an adult.
The changelings are on Flurry Heart's side?!
Okay, this plot is thicker than bearnaise sauce, but given the quality so far, I am looking forward to untangling it.
10550777
You're literally the first one who's said anything about this. Maybe the first one who even noticed it?
B-but clearly I don't mention changelings, just this mysterious queen of [Redacted] that happens to be named Chrysalis the Second! It might not be changelings!
10551147
I'm worried that logically the changelings have been taken out of the picture in some way, shape, or form. Considering how the current system is built on misinformation over a long time, if changelings were in the mix, they could be very effective in spreading the truth and organizing resistance.
Bounced on my mares cloud to this for hours, one love Salvia over and out
I kind of want to know what happened to Blueblood. Celestia's and Luna's blood relative, and a UNICORN to boot.
I get that reference!
Zhahaha Zhahaha!! Ah the references are great! Hope to see more shoutouts coming soon!
What the fuck? This lady doesn't know how to not be frightening and intimidating, does she?
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She's part of the Ministry of Truth, it's kinda her job.
Ember and I both had the same reaction!