“Milord, the morning is waxing. You have been summoned to Council. I am afraid it is mandatory.”

The young stallion rolled over in bed with a deep groan.

“Free Fall, what in the name of Mustang are you harping on about?”

“Word has come, milord, from the North. It is news if great import!”

The stallion rolled over once again to face his loyal retainer. His wings shielded eyes that were still bleary with sleep.

“Has that fiend Discord crossed into the Retirement Estates? Or have the Shadowkin returned from banishment?”

“Milord, would you make light of the Icarus’ Prophecy?”

“Neigh, I wouldn’t,” answered the young stallion, “As you may well know, Free Fall, I am but a minor lord of a small house over a miniscule legion. Why would The Council have need of me?”

“My Lord Free Lancer, you are the are Lord of Free Manor, commander of the Legions on the Westfold…”

“And descendant of Master Guilty Spark,” added another voice, “and I not have my very great grandson become a ne’er-do-well.”

Free Lancer scrambled out of bed, promptly crashing to the floor. He flailed about in an attempt to untangle himself. The resultant confusion left him further trapped in his bedding.

“Let me help you with that,” said Master Guilty Spark.

With a small flash coupled to a brief wisp of violet smoke, Free Lancer was loosed form the bed clothes and set upright on all four hooves. A burst of embarrassment visited him, minute but fierce. The last time such an emotion swept over him, he was but a blank flank foal.

“Great Father,” Lancer began, “I’m no lazier than my Earth Pony grandfather. I am at a loss as to why The Grand Council has sent me a summons. I have no great deeds to report. My family tree is but one of the lesser offshoots of the House of Spark. Besides yourself, who else could know of me?”

“It is not a matter of who knows you, but how you serve the cause,” Master Guilty Spark answered.

“I understand,” Lancer replied, “yet any further understanding you can shed, Great Master, might ease my anxiety.”

“All will be revealed at Council, Young Stallion,” Master Spark retorted, "but if I were one to pass on idle gossip, I might say that recent tidings have excited the reticent into action…”

“Great Father…?”

“Unfortunately, I can say no more,” Master Spark said, “but if you wish, I may have some private council to provide.”

Free Lancer remarked, “Any council you can provide is most welcome!”

“If you must have it, have it then. ‘Curiosity kills cats, bats, and rats, but never Thunder Colts.’ Keep your wits sharp and you inquisitiveness high, Young Stallion. Both shall serve you well in the coming times of trial. Now, methinks I hath said too much. I must take my leave. Free Lancer, I expect you at Council. Make haste, Young Lord. Many destinies and much prophecy shall be fulfilled this day.”

“Yes, Great Master. Consider me there already.”

Master Guilty Spark nodded an acknowledgement. He then turned on hoof and left, followed closely by a contingent of his personal guard. Seeing as Guilty Spark was one of the Three Great Masters, alongside Penitent Tangent and Abhorrent Vector, (she being Egregious Divergence’s widow) are the three most powerful Thunder Colts in the remaining clans. They are almost the longest lived.

A visit from a Great Master was not to be taken lightly. The Great Masters are held in high status due to their longevity and sheer power. A Great Master like Guilty Spark has wisdom to spare. His magic was still formidable in spite of his age. The rest of the Thunder Colts has magic, sure, though none could match the sheer might of a Great Master. Few would publicly admit to such an awful truth as this: in each successive generation of Thunder Colts since the Shadowkin Wars, the foals in each had waning magic prowess.

Free Lancer is young, for a Thunder Colt. Yet, he has seen personally seen the birth of three generations of foals. In each instance, the offspring wielded weaker or more limited magic than their sires. Lancer was the exception that proved the rule. For reasons unknown to him, he had tremendous magic flowing through him. This might probably explain why Master Guilty Spark visited Free Manor so often and why Lancer was a Legate whilst many of his peers were Centurions. Lancer was still many leagues away from becoming a Master, but he did hold the potential to become one…

“I guess I shouldn’t delay the inevitable, eh?" Lancer said, sotto voice, "Free Fall, would rouse Freedom Rings if the filly hasn’t already risen with the dawn? I’m going to bathe and groom myself; if you two would so kind as bring me something for breakfast and have my dress regs laid out-?”

“With pleasure, milord.”

Free Fall left the bedchamber in search of Freedom Rings. Meanwhile, Free Lancer busied himself with a hot bath, brushed his teeth and combed his mane and tail. BY the time he was done, the tantalizing smell of apple tarts and carrot cake wafted through the manor.

He needed no second invitation to muster for morning mess. He trotted to the dining hall with purposeful haste. Once he arrived there, he was greeted by the second frequent visitor to Free Manor: his distant cousin, Indelible Spark.

Indelible Spark was eight seasons his junior. As a filly-in-waiting, Indelible Spark had been groomed since foalhood to be a mare of proper manner and excellent etiquette. She and Lancer grew up together, having many a fine misadventures. They knew each others phobias (Lancer was a claustrophobic and Indelible suffered from astraphobia or a fear of thunder and lightning) and often referred to one another by nicknames. Endearments like nicknames are not widely tolerated in Thunder Colt society.

“♪Hello, Lancey!♫”

“Morning, Sparki!”

Such familiarity between a legate and a filly-in-waiting is nominally frowned upon, even in the fringes of the Retirement Estates. This is especially true amongst members of the same family tree.

“I am pleased to announce,” Free Fall declaimed, “the arrival of filly-in-waiting of the House of Spark, Lady Indelible Spark!”

Lancer glared at Free Fall and said, “You gelding…”

“Oh, Free Fall,” Indelible Spark added, “you have to be so formal…”

Free Fall answered back, “Apologies, milady, but it would not do to abandon proper protocol…”

“Good friend Free Fall,” Lancer jested, “all of Equestria could fall into ruin and you’d still follow proper protocol!”

“As your retainer, My Lord, it is my duty and privilege to follow protocol, even when my sovereign does not or will not.”

“Drop your wattage, Free Fall! I’m only ranking you!”

Before Free Fall could make a snappy retort, hoof mare Freedom Rings arrived with a chilled pitcher of Zap Apple Cider. As Freedom Rings pours out juice in Lancer’s goblet, the first breakfast course is served. The dining hall falls silent as dining commences. All conversation ceases until every course is eaten in the five course breakfast. When the very last plate is removed, Indelible Spark strikes up a conversation.

“Say, Lancey, did I just see Great Father Spark fly out of here? There were notices everywhere about an emergency council meeting all over the place!”

“Yeah,” answered Lancer, “Master Spark was here to collect for Council.”

“Ooo, how exciting,“ Sparki cooed, “a summons from The Grand Council! Do you know what you’ve summoned for?”

“Not a clue there, Sparki. Great Father Spark was very cryptic about that when he was here.”

“Such intrigue…!”

Free Lancer merely shrugs at the suggestion.

“Milord, the Council,” Free Fall queries.

“Right- Sparki, I gotta bolt. I’ll see you after council, okay?”

Oh, yes! And you’ll tell me all about won’t you, Lancey?”

Lancer nods.

“♪Bye-bye, Lancey, good luck!♫”

Free Lancer acknowledges the gesture with another nod and leaves from the dining hall. In mere moments, he is flanked by both Free Fall and Freedom Rings as the don him in his finest cloak on top of his dress armor. A chariot led by two of The Grand Council messengers is waiting for Lancer at the main gate of Free Manor. As soon as he and Free Fall are bundled within, the chariot takes off.

☇

A throng has formed at the steps of the Council Chambers. Council Guards in their ceremonial platinum armor are holding the mob in check as Free Lancer arrives. Snippets of conversation reach his ears when the chariot touches down. Phrases containing such words as “Princess of Magic,” and “Icarus’ Prophecy” ring throughout the crowd. A chill runs through him that has no relation to the weather, which is very bright and sunny.

A Council Guard trots to the charge as Lancer steps out of the chariot and declares loudly, “Announcing the arrival of Lord Free Lancer, Master of Free Manor, Primus Legate of the Legions on the Westfold Forty, direct descendant to Master Guilty Spark!”

A look of shock crosses Lancer’s countenance, as well as most of the teeming throng, upon this pronouncement. Primus Legate was something of a revelation to him. Unlike many of fellow peers in his age group, Lancer never politicked or jockeyed for power. He had no ambitions for executive power albeit leading forty legions was second nature him. Yet the realization that he was a direct descendant to Master Spark was nothing short of startling. Many of Lancer’s major life events were taking on a sinister tint…

The shock had to be dealt with later; the Council was waiting a sizable number of the ravenous press corps were recording everything. Lancer would not give them the satisfaction of documenting his disquiet. That was a private matter to contend with.

His resolve now solidified, Free Lancer ascended the Grand Council steps. Accompanying him on his climb was a cohort of Council Guards; Free fall was forced to bring up the rear. Cameras flashed and journalist shouted their inquiries, making a disdainful din as Lancer made his way to council chambers. The pop of flashbulbs and discordant shouts continued long after Lancer entered into the building.

The Chamber was only half lit, but Lancer could make out the assembled multitude of nobility within. Lords of Houses, both major and minor, were seated round about the amphitheater. The Three Masters were seated in dais of honor, set atop a stage with a cloud supported podium for the speakers. Upon seeing Free Lancer, the chamber grew hushed. Outside, the sound of agitated paparazzi, while muffled by the chamber walls, still sounded cacophonous in the still air fo the chamber.

To Lancers delight, it was Quantifiable Tangent that was placed at one of the bailiff’s post. And it also he who announced the following: “Lord Free Lancer, please step forth.”

Lancer trotted forward to a dais not unlike the ones the Masters were seated, which stood at dead center of the amphitheater.

“Mares and Gentle-stallions, fillies and colts, The Grand Council of the Thunder Colts is hereby called to order,” announced another bailiff.

Mistress Abhorrent Vector, Keeper of the Scrolls of History, now rose and began to speak, “Lords and Ladies of the Retirement Estates, as many of you know now, word has come through from both our liaison in Canterlot and our delegation in the Griffon Kingdom that is glad tidings. It is day we have waited for, four hundred years in the making.

I shall now recite the Icarus’ Prophecy:

‘Twilight falls on magic’s sway, idling in the Thunders stay, Shadows from the past do fall, reigning triumphant over one and all.

But, lo, upon the dawn, there doth arise, a Princess of Magic, born at evening tide!’”

Master Vector sat, but in her place came Penitent Tangent, the Keeper of Genealogical Patents. Thus did he speak:
“It has been proven, both by testimony of the Senate and Patents of Genealogy, that our once potent Chaotic Magic is waxing thin. Only thus ponies born within Familia Prima or those of direct descent from the Great Masters have any great prowess with climate spells or lightning manipulation. The first part of the Icarus’ Prophecy has come to pass.”

Now it came turn for Master Guilty Speak. As Keeper of Arcane Tomes, he was an expert in all things ethereal. He rose from his dais and thus he spoke: “The Prophecy also spoke of the return of the Shadowkin. Our arch-nemesis forces were greatly reduced in number when we banished from this dimension. Diminished, yes, but not defeated. Even now, there are stirrings on the Planar Astral. The Shadowkin have managed to circumvent our wards or breached them entirely; the weakest of our boundary seals have rent asunder.

“I would not despair yet, brothers and sisters. All our hope is not lost. The third stanza if The Prophecy infers that Princess would crowned, one with overflowing magical energy. For the last four centuries, yours truly and a cadre of our best cryptologists have been deciphering the last part, which has been the cause of much confusion. On this day, the meaning of this phrase has finally been discovered! ‘Born’ has been used in antediluvian times as a term for burdens, as in ‘to bear a burden.’ ‘Evening tide’ is synonymous with the dusk or even ‘twilight.’ Thus, The Princess of Magic must bear a name related to the night.

“It is now, with much rejoicing,” Abhorrent Vector declared, “that the great tidings from Canterlot have arrived.”

Penitent Tangent exclaimed, “Unto us all and all of Equestria, a new Princess has been crowned!”

Then Guilty Spark declaimed, “By decree of Princesses Celestia and Luna, do I hereby announce the coronation of Equestria's newest sovereign, Princess Twilight Sparkle!”

Applause roared as banners fell bearing The Equestrian Seal along with a new banner depicting the newest princess. After several minutes of raucous cheering, order was called and The Grand Council Chamber fell reverently silent once more. The hush solidified, during which a stallion in a regal cloak of navy blue over an unarmored vest stood up and trotted to the podium. His name was Ignominious Tyrant, chancellor of the Thunder Senate and now he began to speak.

“We are now certain that every part of the Icarus' Prophecy has come to pass. Our magic is weak, the Shadowkin are returning to this dimension, and this Twilight Sparkle is our 'Princess of Magic'.

“It has been decided in The Senate that our idle days are over. A declaration has been sent to Canterlot, announcing the Thunder Colts desire to return to active duty. An ambassadorial cadre is to be sent to Canterlot in a fortnight to make preparations for the transition of Thunder Colt clans to active service for Equestria.

“All of the cadre nominees have been selected and voted upon save for one. There was much debate is to whom we might send to lead this mission. It is now proposed by The Grand Council the Primus Legate be the nominee for the post of Delegacio Prima. The Senate Selection Committee approved his nomination just the other day and now his candidacy is placed in the hooves pf the Senate along with the full council. Now how say you? All those in favor may now raise their horns in a vote of 'yea', all opposed may dip their horns in a vote of 'neigh.'”

So much was moving so fast for that Free Lancer felt numb. When was he asked to lead the ambassadorial mission? He couldn't remember because it never happened. Nopony from the Senate paid him visit in the last few weeks. Nor was there any document bearing the Senate seal found in his mail in the last month. Did he place his signature on a Senate form without knowing? How in Mustang did he get nominated?!

Whilst Free Lancer was having an introspective moment, the combined Senate and Grand Council completed the vote. The Senates voted fifty eight “yea” to forty two “neigh.” The Grand Council was unanimous in it's “yea” vote. A procedural recount was held on the Senate vote; there was no change made in the tally. Quantifiable Tangent thanked the Council and the Senate and all were dismissed for the time being. As ponies filed out of the council chambers, Master Spark caught up with Free Lancer as the latter was about to leave. He offered his congratulations and some advice.

“Now your true test is about to begin, Young Stallion. We shall see, herewith, if you are worthy of the title of Thunder Colt.”

Author's Note

The Thunder Colts were once soldiers for Discord. He created them during the War to Rule Equestria. They broke free of his command eventually and sided with Princesses Celestia and Luna to seal Discord in stone. They served a role similar to The Royal Canadian Mounties, patrolling the kingdom and keeping the peace. Then came the Shadowkin, beasts of pure and utter rancor. The ravaged and slaughtered at the fringes of Equestria until Princess Celestia could no longer stand by as they wreaked havoc over her subjects. The Thunder Colts drove them away from this dimension, but the cost of that action was high. Before the Shadowkin Wars, the number of Thunder Colts in Equestria numbered as many as 100,000. After that terrible conflict, there were barely 1,000 left and one of their strongest members was killed. They retired to an area just southeast of the badlands, a barren patch of brambles and bones and made into a Utopia. Yet, as their fortunes and numbers increased, their hold over Chaotic Magic weakened. This saga takes place just two weeks after Twilight Sparkle was crowned a princess…