Later on in life, when Free Lancer recalls his first day in Canterlot, he will recount meeting and greeting many of Canterlot’s most prestigious citizens. He won’t remember any of their names. In fact, he won’t have any recollection of their faces due in part to the continuous bursting of flash bulbs. Those hours will forever be a brilliant blur of nothing in his memory.

His memory will only begin to chronicle that day starting from the dinner feast. It is there he begins to recall sights, sounds, and smells. It’s also when he can finally connect events with specific times. While he recalls little of the ponies he met there, he knew the time of the feast and long it lasted. He can even recall the hour he went to bed.

Morning came suddenly for Free Lancer. The gourmet meal of the night before was still with him, upsetting his digestion. His ears were ringing and his mouth tasted like vaguely like rotting pumpkin. Worst still, his head ached; the grey matter behind his eyes might have been caught in one of Ghastly Gorges avalanches. All the signs were present for a carrot juice hangover.

“Oh, my aching head-!”

“You said it, Realm,” Lancer replied, “there’s a big bag of wet cotton where my brain used to be…”

Free Reign added, “Could somepony stop the room; I’d like to get off…”

“You and me both, cognata,” Lancer says, “if I never see another flute of carrot juice again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Milord,” Free Fall moans, “not too loudly, please! My skull doth ache something frightful…”

“Dial down your wattage, please,” says Liberty Belle, “while you’re at it, point me to the nearest water closet, por favor, I think I’m going to be sick…”

A retching sound is heard from the other side of the ambassadorial suite. Free Radical moans from one side of his bed. His coat has turned a nasty shade of green. He moans in agony once more then vomits.

“Hooves and horns, compadrés,” Free Lancer comments, “aren’t we a sorry sight! Mustang help us if the Enemy found us in this state…”

More vomiting can be heard, this time from one of three water closets in the suite. Liberty Belle is conspicuously absent from the room. Sovereign Realm and Free Reign have cantered off to the other two water closets. Free Fall is looking to do the same; his coat was starting to take on the same sickly complexion as Free Radical.

“Milord, if I may-?”

Free Lancer stepped aside and answered, “The master bath is yours.”

His retainer shot forth in a blur. He was ensconced in the master bath within the blink of an eye. Lancer was alone in the suite now. His head was till swollen in misery; his stomach was taxed sorely between the carrot juice and the gourmet banquet of last night. He needed something to relieve the pain, so he scoured the room for headache powders.

There wasn’t any in the mini-bar. There were none in the pantry, either. The same was true for every drawer and cupboard in the sparse kitchenette. Lancer’s desperation grew with the throbbing in his skull. Losing hope and patience, Lancer retired to the master bedroom again. The carrot juiced induced migraine unbalanced him so; he tottered broadside into the nightstand, toppling it over. The contents of the main drawer spilled out onto the floor. Lancer stopped ot examine the contents: a room service menu, a tourists traveling guide, a pamphlet of historical sites in Canterlot, a book of scriptures from the Church of Celestia, A box of Nurse Redheart’s Powders, a packet of chocolate mints…

“Wait a minute…!”

Free lancer lifted the powders with his horn.

“Blesses Mustang, I have headache powders!”

Trotting back to the kitchenette, he filled a glass he found in one of the cupboards with water. He then opened a packet of powders onto his tongue and downed the glass. The relief was almost instantaneous. He noted the limited number of powders in the pack; there were only two and Lancer had just used one. Quickly scribbling a note to the hospitality bureau, Lancer sealed his note with was and teleported the memo with all haste. Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

A bell hp garbed in the colors of Equestria’s Banner was waiting in the hall. HE was pushing a cart bearing a chilled pitcher of cranberry juice, half a dozen crystal goblets, two full boxes of Nurse Redheart’s Famous Headache Powders, and a platter piled high with sugar cubes. Lancer opened the door wide for the bell hop, which placed the cart in the sitting room. Lancer observed the hop checking the open bedrooms of the suite. He rubbernecked slightly as he passed Free Radical’s quarters.

Lancer placed a fifty bit piece in the hoof of the bell hop and explained, “Thunder Colts and carrot juice don’t mix. Methinks we’ll be in need of housekeeping before too long. If you could send them up, please, that would be appreciated.”

The bell hop nods and leaves the dignitary suite at double time. Lancer’s audience with Princesses Celestia and Luna was in four hours; it would not do to meet royalty in such a disheveled state. He was also not willing to abuse his hostesses’ hospitality. The sooner the housekeeping crew got up here, the better. Opening a box of the powders, Lancer walks back into the master suite and his ailing retainer.

“This should set you to rights,” he says, tossing a packet to Free Fall.

“Oh, bless me Mustang…!” Free Fall moaned.

“There’s cranberry juice and sugar cubes in the sitting room. Once you’re back on your hooves, get the rest of the party ready to ride. In the meantime, I’m going to bathe. I fell like I just ran through a hedge backwards.”

“As you command, milord,” Free Fall replies, “will there anything else?”

“Yeah,” Lancer answers, “save me some sugar cubes. Make sure you get housekeeping into Radical’s room. He left an awful mess in there.”

Free Fall nodded, trotting slowly to the sitting room. Lancer retreated to the master bath, pausing momentarily to look in the mirror. He was repulsed by what he saw. His coat was heavily matted; his mane and tail were in tangles. His eyes were bloodshot due to the hangover. Lancer opened his mouth, letting his tongue loll out. The hue of his gums was a sickly pink as was his tongue. Lancer’s teeth were just as bad; they were yellowed right down to the roots.

“Bleh!” Lancer exclaims, “There’s no way I’m having an audience with the Princesses like this. Good thing I brought my toothbrush.”

An hour later, Lancer is bathed and groomed. His hangover was mostly subsided; his eyes were still bloodshot, but nowhere near as bad as before. The headache was gone, and his stomach was no longer queasy. In fact, he was rather famished. A quick peek into the next room showed the breakfast cart was gone.

Walking into the sitting room, he declared, “There better be some of those sugar cubes left!”

A head popped out from a corner leading into the kitchenette. It was Free Reign.

“There plenty left fratellino. We only just started.”

Lancer delighted in that and trotted to the bustling kitchenette. The rest of his fellow Thunder Colts were tucking in to a late morning repast; he quickly followed suit. He ate heartedly, downing two full tankards of cranberry juice and more than a dozen sugar cubes. With his thirst and hunger slaked, Lancer looked over his troop. They were nearly all cured of their hangovers. Even Free Radical, the one pony who was the most woebegone of the company, rebounded very gracefully.

“Well,” announced Lancer, “methinks we’re in a state to parlay with dignitaries. Now let’s look the part. We meet with the Princesses in the ninth hour, roughly five o’clock Equestrian. Detail and escort will take ninety minutes; it’s the sixth hour now. I’d like to get to the banquet early, so we need to get vested and primed in the next three-quarters of an hour. Arriba, arriba! Andalé! Move like you got a purpose!”

The company galloped at double time to don their finest vestments, as did Lancer. He had the foresight to unpack his formal wear beforehand. This meant he was not in any rush to search his luggage for it. Included in this uniform were a formal tunic, tailcoat, and tuxedo vest, a cummerbund, armored vambraces for his lower forelegs, pauldrons that strapped to his upper forelegs, sollerets for his hind hooves, cuisses for his upper hind legs, and an articulated cuirass that snapped into place over his tailcoat. He would need Free Fall’s assistance with the armor, but his foundation wear he could put on himself. Free Falls’ raiment was much simpler than his lord’s; being a retainer meant he needed only a formal tunic, cummerbund, vest and tailcoat.

Lancer and Free Fall were robed a whole ten minutes before the rest of the company. They stood by, watching the security detail outside from bay window facing inner courtyard of the palace. The detail was formed into ranks, regaled in full plate armor that put the Royal Guard uniforms to shame. Lancer’s escorts were practicing lightning kata that many Canterlot residents found both mesmerizing and frightening.

“I wonder,” murmured Free Fall, “whether all this security is necessary. Wouldn’t a legion of infantry constitute a show of force?”

Lancer answered, “It could be seen as such. Great Father Spark told me he sent a communiqué in advance of our arrival informing Lady Celestia of our protection detail. In her reply missive, the Princess agreed to most of our compliment. She wouldn’t allow surveillance wyverns over Canterlot Airspace…”

“Well, a reasonable objection,” Free Fall opinioned, “I have no fondness for the scaley, winged ninjin. Cheeky mercenaries…”

“I have no love for them, either,” replied Free Lancer, “They’re almost as bad as full grown dragons. Albeit, less vicious, avaricious, and sociable than dragons, but only just.”

Free Fall nodded his agreement. Both stallions continued to avidly watch the drills as they progressed. Very shortly, the rest f the company joined them on the open veranda, dressed to the nines. They viewed the scene for several more minutes before Lancer called them to order. They aligned themselves in a delta formation and filed out from the dignitary suite.

᚛☇ ᚜

The Company arrived with more than an hour before the banquet. There was some trouble with Lancer’s armor; one of his cuisses was caught in a turnstile at the final security checkpoint. He was free after some effort from Liberty Belle and Free Radical. They were asked to wait in an elegant hall furnished with squashy sofas set between gracefully carved columns. The sounds of mounted service wear and clopping hooves came muffled from the closed grand oak doors of the ball room where the banquet was staged.

“It sounds busy in there,” Lancer commented, “It was understood by me that this was a private banquet.”

Free Fall replied, “Private does not all necessarily mean exclusive, milord.”

“Maybe not,” Free Radical added, “but it’s do my nerves a world of good if it were.”

Free Lancer nodded, saying, “I second that. Let’s just hope there are no surprises in the wings.”

For the rest of the hour, the Company discussed amongst themselves the vagaries of the banquet. There was an air of anxiety and nervous anticipation in there voices. Many speculations arose as to who might be attending the feast. A few of the delegation felt certain Lady Celestia would be there. Others were assured a princess by the name of Mi Amore Cadenza would attend. Rumors were abounding that the “Wonderbolts” would be in attendance.

Eventually, the doors to the ballroom opened. The delegation rose and fell into formation behind Free Lancer. They filed into the ballroom as one, the protective detail forming up on either flank. Though none showed it, many were astounded by the grandeur and elegance of the palace.

At length, the Thunder Colts were shown to their seats around the elongated dining table by palace wait staff. The protection detail fell out and formed columns along the perimeter. Neither Lady Celestia nor Luna had arrived yet. So to were any entrees present. The sugar cube and cranberry juice breakfast Lancer had been long digested; his mind was turning to food again. Thankfully, his claustrophobia was not affecting him now. The ballroom had a high vaulted ceiling and numerous bay windows that were blessedly open.

“Presenting,” cried a Royal Guard, “your majesties of Canterlot, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna!”

All heads turned as another pair of grand oak doors opened. A regal march played as two figures walked in. With a jewel colored mane and that flowed with some unknown current, Lady Celestia was the epitome of Equestrian beauty. Flanking her was her sister, Lady Luna. In passing, she could very well be mistaken for a Thunder Colt; only her eyes, which were moderate cobalt, gave away that she was not a member of Lancer’s herd. Lady Luna was the dark mirror of her sun bearing sister, but she was no less beautiful. Several of the stallions in the delegation watched her pass with adoration in her eyes. Sovereign Realm’s mouth was slightly agape as his eyes pursued Lady Luna.

The Sisters seated themselves opposite of Lancer; as soon as they were seated comfortably did the delegation do likewise and the banquet began in earnest. Silver platters bearing sumptuous dishes floated majestically to the table. Everypony tucked in to eat as their plates were filled. Nothing much was said except for requests for condiments, a gravy boat, the butter dish or the salt cellar. Once all the entrees were eaten, the main dish arrived. When that was totally consumed, a parfait several pony lengths long and five pony lengths high emerged. Everypony at the table was served six heaping trowels of the desert. Even though Lancer was filled to bursting, he dove into his portion with gusto.

Every last once of parfait was eaten before silence fell over the ballroom. Silver ware, plates, and goblets were cleared by the palace attendants. Shortly thereafter, Lady Celestia stood to speak.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” she beamed, “I welcome you to Canterlot. I must admit, it has been sometime since I last entertained Thunder Colts in the palace. Longer still has it been for my sister. We are thrilled, Luna and I, to have you back again. Now, to what do we owe the pleasure of your return?”

Lancer stood and answered, “Lady Celstia, Lady Luna, my name is Free Lancer and I have been sent by the Grand Council of Thunder Colts and do hereby represent them. We thank you both for the graciousness with which you have received us this day. We have journeyed far from our homes in the Estates of Retirement to make a petition.”

“And what,” Lady Luna inquired, “would you petition us about?”

“I and my delegation are to here to request tutorship in Harmonious Magic. As part of our petition, we also humbly ask to be placed under the tutelage of Lady Twilight Sparkle, if she would so have us.”

Ladies Celestia and Luna shared an astonished look. To Lancer’s discerning eyes, the Sisters were engaged in a private conversation, a telepathic one. He waited patiently for the Sisters to conclude their conference.

“Your request is a sizable one,” said Lady Luna, “Princess Twilight is so newly crowned… Why do you not ask of me or my sister?”

“Milady,” answered Lancer, “we are operating under the influence of the Icarus’ Prophecy. I have come to understand that Lady Celestia has already read about it.”

“Indeed, I have,” Lady Celestia confirms, “You’re conviction comes from revelation.”

“Yea, verily,” replied Lancer, “the first two portents have already come to pass; Lady Twilight’s coronation makes the prophecy complete.”

“And Thunder Colt magic, Chaos Magic, is waning?”

“Yes, Milady, and has been for several generations.”

“I have heard of these ‘Shadowkin’ in passing yet I know nothing of them.” Luna said, “Celestia has told me nothing.”

“Milady,” started Sovereign Realm, “whilst you were- away, a foul species of being invaded into our world. The Shadowkin are a race of beings that are extra dimensional in origin. They are rancor and malice made sentient. Wherever they roam, devastation and destruction follow.”

“Were they not banished from this dimension?” Lady Celestia asked.

“They were,” answered Lancer, “yet, as our magic fades, so to does the power of the wards and seals we used to protect this plane.”

“Thus it is imperative,” Free Radical added, “to learn all we can about Harmony magic; I remember when we fought those villains. We barely held our own with Chaos Magic. Our victory over them was a Pyrrhic victory. They’ll have gotten stronger by now.”

“Very well,” declares Lady Celestia, “it shall be done. Twilight has been my greatest, most faithful, and favorite student. Now that her studies are at an end, it is time for the pupil to become the master.”

Lady Luna nodded, saying, “We should send word to her at once.”

“Agreed, Luna, and the sooner the better. I shall summon him to take the letter…”

“No need, My Princess,” spoke a disembodied voice, “I can take it now, if you so desire.”

There was a brilliant flash of light; when it dissipated, a discordant figure stood between the sisters.

“Ah, my little ponies…” said the dracoequus chimera.

“Discord…!” seethed Free Lancer, speaking through gritted teeth. The rest of the Thunder Colt delegation was equally as shocked to see the fiend in Canterlot. A few, like Free Radical, were pawing the ground, preparing to run head long into the chimera. Others, like Sovereign Realm, were poised to take flight and launch lightning bolts. Lancer alone held his seat, and telepathically cautioned his fellows to do the same.

“Discord,” Lady Celestia declares, “write a letter for me, please.”

“Of course, My Princess,” croons Discord, “Which one?”

Ladies Celestia and Luna glare at the chimera.

“Yes, yes, of course. A poor joke, on my part…” Discord laments.

With another brilliant flash, a quill, inkwell, and a scroll of parchment appear. Discords serpentine tongue licks the point of the quill. Lancer notices the chimera’s legs are forming an easel, onto which the parchment is now resting. His head has been detached form his body. It rests on the table, closer enough for his forked tongue to tickle Lady Celestia. The eagle talon arm is is holding the quill whilst the lion pawed one is stroking his beard. The scene is enough to put Lancer off his meal.

“Ready when you are.” Discord says.

Celestia begins:

“My dearest Twlight Sparkle,

Since our meeting so many years ago, I have endeavored to instruct you in all things magic. It has been the greatest privilege of my long life to do so. As inevitable as it is certain, I now have nothing left to teach you. Your studies are now over and it is time to move onto the next phase of your life. It is now you obligation to pass on your knowledge to others. It is time to teach what you have studied. I have a student in need of your tutelage. His name is Free Lancer. I expect you to treat him as I have treated you. This is your first real test as a princess. I know you will do well.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia.”

Discord stopped writing and asked, “Is ‘Celestia’ with one eye or two?”

Presently, his eye sockets mimicked what he said. Celestia did not look amused.

“Just one, Discord,” Lady Luna snapped.

Lady Celestia, meanwhile, gives the letter a once over. She nods her approval and takes Discord’s quill to sign her name. When his refuses to work her, much to Discord’s merriment, she produces a quill of her own. With the letter signed, she seals it with the Equestria Seal and hands back to Discord. He bows as he receives it; with a snap of his fingers and another flash of brilliant light, he and the letter are gone.

“Thank you, Milday,” Lancer says.

“And thank you,” she replies, “for returning to Equestria.”

Author's Note

The Company now meets with Sister Princesses. As well as a surprise guest…