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         The Thunder Colt Saga: Rise, Free Lancer          
                    -by L0rd0f7hund3r-                     
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                   The Lord of the Mark                    
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The Lord of the Mark
“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…

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                       The Wayfarer                        
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The Wayfarer
Two weeks ago, Free Lancer was chosen as an emissary for Canterlot. Every measure imaginable was taken to properly educate him in all things Equestrian; the last four centuries of convalescence in the Retirement Estates has made much knowledge of others ponies woefully inaccurate. A cadre of Equestrian ponies, three unicorns, three Pegasi, and three Earth ponies, were sent to the Retirement Estates as instructors. During the last fortnight, Free Lancer was informed about all things related to Equestrian politics, society, culture, etiquette, geography, and economics. Lancer’s head was so full of information and statistics his head was fit to burst! Yet, in twenty-four hours, he and his select staff were northward bound on an express train to Canterlot. All that data would, in some manner or another, prove useful there.
The train ride would be a nightmare for Free Lancer. Since foaling, Lancer has suffered an intractable case of claustrophobia. Small spaces were Lancer’s bane; even the expansive passenger rail cars of the express would not suppress his terror. Even at home in Free Manor, he couldn’t go into another room without the Manor staff opening up all available doors and windows to prevent a claustrophobic panic attack. With that, he barely manages around the Manor. A six hour train ride to the heart of Equestria cooped up in a sardine tin would test his resolve to the limit!
In the morning, Lancer along with Free Fall, were taking the train from the railway station in the Retirement Estates capitol of Cumulus. There were others along for the ride; members of his legions Lancer had called to be part of his diplomatic staff. Those in the company were:
Liberty Belle-Free lancer’s chief lieutenant and head of his security detail.
Free Radical- Lancer’s Sergeant Major in the Westfold Legions. He was serves as an expert chemist.
Sovereign Realm- Lancer’s private councilor and advocate; Sovereign also used his talents as the Legions resident lawyer.
Free Reign- Lancer’s key strategist, also his sister-in-law. Her husband is Lancer’s older brother, Cry of Freedom.
Free Reign has her own agenda for joining in the company. Cry of Freedom left on a quest for the Grand Council eight seasons ago. It was a secret mission to shore up and reinforce the wards and seals keeping the dread Shadowkin from this dimension. She had kept in touch with him through letters to the western most outposts where he was being stationed. Their correspondence kept up for a month and a half before he was discovered missing. He thus far not returned.
It was Free Reign’s belief that authorities in Canterlot may have information concerning Cry’s whereabouts. Lancer didn’t have it in him to dissuade her; he was also hoping there were answers to be found in Canterlot. Cry and Reign were still newlyweds when he disappeared. They were discussing so many future plans, like foals, houses, and Lancer becoming an uncle. Such talk ended when Cry was declared missing in action…
Most of this day was spent on preparations for the long voyage. Lancer had packed three suitcases worth of essential items for his time in Canterlot and Equestria proper. One case was packed with clothes and armor. Another was stuffed with knick-knacks from home. The third case was loaded with supplies from his office in the Manor and his study (parchment, ink bottles wrapped in tissue paper, quills, pencils, a stapler, a three hole punch and even a pencil sharpener.) Lancer was scribbling outstanding orders for his legions as midnight approached. Freedom Rings was already appointed Stewardess of The Manor. The old mare had served this post before.
Lancer’s parents, Roam Free ( Thunder Colt stallion) and Hard Luck (an Earth Pony mare), had on several occasions given rings this position, especially when they were called up for long range patrol. She was Stewardess when Roam and Luck had a fatal encounter with Changelings that made Cry and Lancer orphans. She managed the Manor until such time as both Cry and Lancer were of age to command the legions. Freedom Rings was a little reluctant to take that mantle once more. Nothing Lancer or Free Fall said could convince her to take the post once again. It took Free Reign’s teary pleads for Rings to accept the job.
The last few items Lancer wanted to take with him were collected in a large duffel bag. Among those items were his buckwheat pillow, his favorite fleece blanket, his plush toys (a toy giant panda, a toy red panda, and a toy koala), plus his favorite flannel pajamas. All this and more was bundled into this duffel and would with him when he boarded the train. If there was any chance of Lancer getting through this adventure with the train, these articles would be of essential import.
Confident all was in “ready-ready” state, Free Lancer went to bed shortly before one in the morning. An hour after retiring to bed, he found that sleep was not forthcoming; his anxieties of the coming day weighed too heavily on his mind. In the hours before dawn, Lancer paced round about the Manor, practicing speeches to the tapestries. It would be a couple of hours after dawn before the procession went down to Cumulus.
It was with great relief to Free Lancer that, just a few minutes after dawn, Indelible Spark showed up. She was escorted by none other than Quantifiable Tangent. Quantifiable was also a Primus Legate but one that rivaled Free Lancer. This was bound to be an interesting send off…
“Hail, Legate Free Lancer!” cried Quantified.
“Well met, Legate Quantified Tangent!”
Sparki and Quantified trotted up to Lancer as he paced about the Grand Hall. Given that both ponies were coming in heavy laden, it surprised Lancer that the whole Manor wasn’t awoken by the clamor they made. Both ponies were clad in armor; Indelible Spark was sporting the latest in ornamental jewelry as well. For every hoof fall they pair made, there was a raucous din to follow.
“Horns and hooves, Sparki, with that much metal on you, it’s a small wonder you haven’t woken up that gelding, Free Fall!”
Sparki was prepared to respond but Quantified cut across her.
“Legate Free Lancer, that is no way to speak to a filly-in-waiting!”
“So sayeth the colt?” Lancer retorted.
“Quantified, Lancer, please…”
Again, Quantified cuts across her.
“It behooves me, Legate Free Lancer, to educate you in the finer points of etiquette…”
“It behooves you nothing,” Lancer spat, “to teach me etiquette, manners, or anything else for the matter, ‘Quanty!’ You are in my home as and seeing as is my home, I can speak freely about anything to anyone in whatever manner I deem appropriate! Effe why eye, Sparki and I have been friends since long before you knew her. We have been friends since we were foals. In a point of fact, our mothers were the dearest of friends and would always visit each others home. Our houses have always been very close. There is no formality between us.”
In disgust, Quantified said, “Legate Free Lancer! That- That is- so vulgar!”
Free Lancer sneered at Quantified and was about to goad him further when Sparki intervened.
“Quantified Tangent, Free Lancer, I have had is enough of this foolishness.”
Both stallions were stunned into silence; Lancer was equal parts amazed and dumbfounded at Sparki’s assertiveness.
“Lady Indelible-.”
“Quantified, please, it is his home-.”
“But Legate Free Lancer is acting uncouth-.”
“I have every right to be when unwelcome guests are calling.”
“Legate-!”
Sparki cuts across him now, “I only asked you to accompany me to Free Manor. You were not petitioned to escort me inside, if my memory serves me.”
“Lady Indelible, if I may…”
“No, Quantified! I will be fine here. Withdraw for now.”
“Milda-!”
“You heard the filly,” Lancer declared, “move you like have a purpose.”
Quantified growled, upset by this sudden turn of events. Yet, he could see no way to win this round of debate, so he turned on hoof and cantered out. He was in the air seconds after crossing the Free Manor threshold.
“Good riddance,” Free Lancer huffed.
“He means well,” Sparki said.
“Maybe, but come on, Sparki, that arrogant, pompous colt thinks himself to be Mustang’s gift to Equestria! It’s a miracle he doesn’t rip himself apart every time he’s in your general vicinity, for how stiff and pressed he makes himself. Nice pick in courtiers, by the way.”
“Lancey, please, not now…”
Lancer sighs and says, “I know, Sparki. The old houses, they have old ties. Your engagement to that- cadet, was probably arranged at your foaling, if not sooner.”
“Most likely,” Sparki lamented, “nothing to be done.”
“Thunder rolls lightning strikes.”
Sparki nods her consent.
“Let’s forget that awful business. Can I get something to drink?”
“Oh yes, that would suit me fine. Do have any zap apple cider?”
Lancer replies, “Methinks we still have some of the old vintage lying around. Come, let’s retire to the kitchen.”
Lancer and Sparki canter to the kitchen, where the Manor culinary staff was already preparing for the fast break of the morning. Chef of the Manor, Free Form, was preparing a meal of blue grass as Lancer and Sparki came into the kitchen. He bowed his head as Free Lancer passed.
“Blue grass today, Free Form?”
“Aye, sir,” Form answered, “me last meal inna manor, fer a spell.”
“What makes you say that?”
Free Form makes a disgusted sigh and says, “Milord, ye cannae leave without meh! Wo is gonnae cook yer meals? Cater yer dinnae parties? Fill yer pantries?”
“Free Form,” Lancer starts, “I appreciate your tireless service. You make three squares meals everyday that are both elegant and delectable. Yet, I think that it might be best you remain here.”
“Milord, why?”
“Your services are best utilized feeding the legions. The procession has enough members as it is without adding you and your staff. If I did add you and your crew, our load out would be so heavy that the train won’t leave the station!”
“I think I see…”
“I’m very sorry, Free Form. If it’s any consolation, you can send me a lemon meringue pie every week, okay?”
“Alright…” Free From sighs dejectedly.
“Okay, a crate of your most delicious baked goods. Boxed individually, of course.”
Free Form brightened at the thought.
“Now, maychance the Lord and myself have some breakfast now, Free Form?” queried Sparki.
“Aye, Lassie, let me stoke the stove…!”
Within minutes, two steaming plates of blue grass and raspberry pancakes were served to two noble ponies. Included in the meal were whole oat toast, frosted carrot cake, a rich cocoa mousse and zap apple cider. It was a breakfast feast befitting a king, to honor the wayfarer.
Lancer eats heartily. He cleans his plate of food and drains his goblet thrice. Indelible Spark eats more than her fill. She has drained her goblet seven times. Sparki was always partial to zap apple cider. Considering the vintage of the cider, Lancer worries that Sparki may get a little tipsy. Shortly after the flatware and dishes are removed form the table, Sparki strikes up a conversation.
“You must be so excited to be on a quest!”
Responding, Lancer answers, “The word you’re looking for is ‘anxious.’ I haven’t slept so in the past few days; I couldn’t sleep at all last night, truth be told.”
“I noticed,” Sparki says, “the last few nights, your lanterns have been burning well into the early morning hours. Such a schedule isn’t very healthy, you know.”
Free Lancer nods, “I know that. It’s just these preparations for this quest has consumed all my waking thoughts as of late. The last fortnight, my every hour is spent in organizing this whole adventure. These plans now seem to leech into my dreaming… My sleep is less than restful.”
“It’s a very important mission,” Sparki says, “The Great Masters have entrusted you to perform an important task. After four centuries of inactivity, we Thunder Colts may finally return to active service! The very thought sends me aflutter… And from what I hear, this Twilight Sparkle is rather fetching, for a short hair.”
“She’s cute, granted,” Lancer concedes, “but my mission is to learn the Harmonious Magicks, not romance somepony. It’s been many a moon since I’ve been a love struck colt, Sparki.”
Sparki smiles broadly. “That’s good to hear.”
“Why is that?”
“Oh… I just wouldn’t want your big heartbroken so far from home…”
Lancer looks at Sparki quizzically. “Go on, pull the other one!”
“I’m serious, Lancey,” Sparki declares, “You’re important. You may not realize it, but you hold a lot of sway. Quantified acts the way he does around you because you intimidate him!”
“Intimdate‽” Lancer asks incredulously, “He has ten seasons on me and is a pure bred Thunder Colt to boot! Yet I intimidate him‽ What could I have that he doesn’t?”
Sparki sighs then says, “You don’t understand… Even before word came of the ‘magic princess,’ your name was whispered through the halls of the Senate. Even the Great Council spoke of you. Rumors abound that Great Father Spark is campaigning for you take on a bigger role in the Council! Haven’t you ever wondered why Free Manor, despite is relatively miniscule size, has a legate, A primus legate even, in command when a centurion could the same job at less expense?”
“That has crossed my mind.”
Has it crossed your mind that your magic is far stronger than other Thunder Colt in the Retirement Estates save for the Great Masters?”
“I admit I haven’t given it much thought…”
“Maybe you haven’t but others certainly have. My father once spoke about it. ‘The blood of Mustang must run through that colt’s veins.’ I am not sure what he meant or even what that means, but my father never incurs the Patron Saint’s name. No in the House of Spark does! Neither, as for as my knowledge can attest, does anypony else in the Retirement Estates!! Save for those in the House of Free, I suppose.”
“Your point being?”
“Invoking the name of Patron Saint is taboo. I don’t even think The Great Masters invoke it! Albeit I have yet to see any members of Free Manor receive any repercussions for doing so!”
“I was wondering why ponies flinch when I say ‘Mustang.’”
Indelible Spark proves his point by wincing at the mention of that venerable appellation.
“Sparki, could you stop that?”
“Apologies, Free Lancer, it just cannot be helped.”
Lancer narrows his eyes. He knows Indelible well enough to know all her idiosyncrasies. When she gets apologetic, he knows she is hiding something. Typically, it’s a secret. She is definitely withholding something…
“Do you have something on your mind, Sparki?”
Indelible avoids his gaze.
“Sparki…!”
She doesn’t dare hold his glare.
“Out with it, Indelible Spark!”
Indelible hesitates a moment then asks, “Lancer, we are friends, right?”
“Rrrrright…”
“We have also known each other since we were foals…”
“This is true.”
“We have no secrets between us, yes? We tell each other everything, right?”
“Right on both counts,” Lancer starts, then adds with a disgusted snort, “now get on with it, Sparki!”
Indelible winces then declaims, “Free Lancer, I have a confession to make. Before you take leave on your quest, it must need to known that I- have fallen in- l-love with you. There is no room in my heart for anyone, even that wind bag Quantified Tangent. It would please me to no end that, on your return, you would make me your ‘mare-to-be.’ What say you, Primus Legate?”
Lancer shakes his head in disbelief. “Oh, Sparki, you silly filly…”
“Lancey-?”
“How long have you been keeping this secret?” Lancer asks.
“It- it wasn’t a secret…”
“Let me rephrase,” Lancer says, “How long have you felt this way?”
She answers, “It feels like forever but it started to intensify about two seasons ago, I think.”
Lancer hisses, sotto voce, “By the name of Mustang!”
“Lancer, your language-!”
Lancer gives Sparki a raised eyebrow coupled to his fiercest glare. It’s then that he notices the clock. It tells him that in one half hour, the procession will arrive to collect him. From there, it is a six hour ride through the very pits of Tartarus to deposit the diplomatic corps and himself at the very seat of Equestrian power.
“Look, Sparki, I don’t have a lot of time. Can we talk about this some other time?”
“We may not have another time-!”
Free Lancer rises to take his leave…
“Lancey, wait-!”
His hind fore legs have just stepped onto the uppermost stair of the stair case leading to the Grand Hall.
“Free Lancer! Please, I need to know,” Indelible pleads, “Do- do you l- l-love- m-m-me?”
Lancer then turns to answer her, “In a way, Sparki. You- you’re a lovely filly, Indelible Spark. Any colt or stallion would incredibly lucky to call you their filly friend and terminally psychotic for letting you go.”
“What are you saying, Lancey?”
“What I’m saying is, I love you but not in the way you think. I can’t reciprocate your feelings in a way you’ll like. In all honesty, I think of you as the little sister I never had. Sparki, I’m so sorry, I can’t-.”
It’s at this moment that the procession arrives early. The clamor of hoof beats garners both ponies attention. Free Lancer, sensing an opportunity to flee this awkward conversation, gallops off to meet them. The ornamental cloaks of the company contrast sharply against the grey morning light. Indelible Spark watches from her vantage point in the mess hall as Free Lancer and company load his luggage into waiting chariots. The others in the diplomatic corps left two days earlier as part of an advance cadre. They were in Canterlot awaiting Lancers arrival.
When all of his baggage was loaded and secured to chariots, the procession trotted off, bound for Cumulus and all points beyond. He wasn’t there to see Indelible Spark breakdown into tears…
Author's Note
One day, I hope to write an entire manual of Thunder Colt manners and social niceties. (Hint! Contractions are big no-no!) Another thing of note and something that will come up later as the story continues, is that the Thunder Colts share similarities with a number of human world cultures. Some of their colloquialisms are drawn from the British (Monty Python fan here!), others are derived from regional US lexicon. Also of note: Mustang is the Patron Saint of the Thunder Colts. In legend, he is said to be the very first Thunder Colt that Discord created. He rebelled from The Lord of Chaos' service within days of his creation and according to some sources, is said to be the inspiration for the Great Schism. More on that later…

//-------------------------------------------------------//
               Riding the Rails to Canterlot               
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Riding the Rails to Canterlot
The voice of the conductor rang out over the public address system. She notified all passengers on the train that they would be making a brief stop refill the water tanks of the engine. All riders were encouraged to visit the nearby village of Ponyville if they needed any refreshment or just wanted to stretch their legs. This would only be a fifteen minute delay. In the first class car, which now sported the winged and horned lighting bolt of the Thunder Colts coat-of-arms, this news was well received.
For the last five and one half hours, Free Lancer was riding in his own private Tartarus. The luxury car had wide windows that afforded a sprawling view the passing countryside, but did not open and were shatter proof. The vents along the top wainscot weren't wide or tall enough to really view the outside world. He was forced to rely on a mild sedative to combat his claustrophobia. He was still wracked with terrible anxiety; the severity of such caused the on-board physician to administer a stronger tranquilizer. That was a dangerous proposition in and of itself.
With the train pulling into Ponyville, it was proven that the gamble worked. The tranquilizer was wearing off and Free Lancer was still in one piece, psychologically speaking. He looked a wreck, with his mane and tail tangled badly. His coat was disheveled because in his drug induced stupor, Lancer drooled on himself. Yet the promise of fresh air and open space rejuvenated him, even if it as only for a few minutes. He quickly cleaned himself of drool and ran a brush through his tangles.
The train was now stopping. Porters went through every compartment in each car to ensure which passengers would be venturing outside. Free Lancer jumped at the chance when offered. He was off the train so fast, his cohort couldn’t keep pace.
“AIR!” exclaimed Lancer when he broke onto the platform.
He was surprised by the scene that was laid out before him. The conductor referred to Ponyville as a village. Yet, from what Lancer saw from the platform, Ponyville was as big as a large town or small city! Cumulus with its three levels was a medium sized city. According to Speak Easy, one of Lancer’s unicorn tutors who lived in Canterlot, the Royal Seat was a metropolis-slash-fortress.
“I am so out of my element right now…”
Just then, a young mare appeared in front of him. Her pink coat and deep pink mane set her apart from the other ponies milling about the platform. Her voice carried over the din of bustling city life. The festive pony was bouncing on her hooves, shilling baked goods for a local shop. A sign nailed above a heavily laden kiosk read “Sugar Cube Corner Confectionery.” Lancer’s stomach awoke with a vengeance at the sight of the baked goods. Picking his way through the crowd, Free Lancer made his way to the kiosk.
“Hi-hi-hi there!” said the candy colored pony, “how are you?”
“Good after,” replied Lancer, “I am starved! How much are those chocolate cupcakes?”
“Five bits!” answered the festive mare, “and when you buy a dozen, you get a free pie!”
“<Meraviglioso!†> I’ll take four dozen, if you please.”
The young pony gathered forty-eight of the frosted confections into four boxes and bundled them with four covered pie tins.
“Twenty bits, please!”
Lancer searched his coin purse for the right currency.
“<Cos'è questa?‡> Lucre, lucre, lucre, lucre; where, by Mustang, are all my bits?”
Giggling, the candied pony asked, “Who is Mustang?”
“Mustang is the Patron Saint of the Thunder Colts.” Lancer answered.
“Thundercolts?” queried the mare, “are they anything like the Wondercolts?”
“Wonder- Colts?” Lancer questioned as he finally pulled twenty freshly minted bits from his purse and placed them on the kiosk shelf, “I have no idea who they are.”
The mare gasped then went into a breathless diatribe about the Wondercolts. For an exacting five minutes, the candied pony broke out an excited description of Equestria’s premier show ponies. Lancer was following the speech intently but the mare was speaking so quickly he didn't get most of it. What he did get was disparate snatches of varying interest: a good friend who was a “rainbow dashing”, various sound effects describing action, a brief explanation of some sporting competition, a city in the clouds.
“Oh-oh-oh, the Wondercolts will be flying for Twi- I mean Princess Twilight Sparkle’s birthday next month! My invitation already arrived in the mail-!”
Lancer interrupted, “Wait-wait-wait, you know Princess Twilight Sparkle?”
“Oh, the Princess? Of course I do! She’s my bestest friend! I've known for years and years. She used to live right here in Ponyville.”
“You don’t say?” Lancer pondered, “What are you called, if I may ask?”
“Don’t be silly, of course you can ask! I’m Pinkie Pie!”
As if bidden, a hidden cannon fired, throwing confetti and balloons into the air. Free Lancer’s focus was keenly bent toward telekinetically keeping his purchases aloft. The cannon blast startled him, sending his sweets flying akimbo. Acting on instinct, Lancer took to wing and nabbed all of his snacks with bursts of midnight colored magic from his horn. When he touched down, his acquisitions now firmly held by sorcery, he found the platform eerily quite. The ponies milling about were in a state of awe at the site of him; several fillies nearby stood frozen in shock. A passing unicorn stallion’s hoof falls resounded like thunder claps in the hush. Everypony had the same question on their minds, but none were brave enough to ask it. It was Pinkie Pie who broke the silence, though her voice wavered profoundly.
“Who- What are you?”
“My name is Free Lancer and I am a Thunder Colt.”
↯
Lancer was bustled back onto the train because of the rush of curious ponies threatening to tramp him. Once secured aboard, his security cohort rested and ate. Lancer himself was muzzle deep in a boysenberry pie. Liberty Belle was staggering daggers at him in between bites of chocolate cupcake. Free Fall, stunned mute by his lord’s actions, struggled with thoughts not normally bidden in his mind. At length, his tongue loosened and began to chastise against Free Lancer.
“My lord, that was reckless and foolish! You may have just compromised our mission here in Equestria‼”
Swallowing a piece of pie, Lancer answers, “ I've compromised nothing on this mission. I was interacting with local ponies. That is part of our mission. Mind you, this isn't entirely the way I wanted that interaction to commence, but I was able to gain much wisdom.”
“And what wisdom,” Liberty Belle seethed, “did we gain by starting a complete and total riot ‽”
Lancer replied, “It has been learned that Equestrians are a peaceful and orderly herd. They are celebratory; it can be said that they are a joyous herd of much diversity. And Equestrian ponies, in our long absence, have the Thunder Colts in myth long forgotten.”
“We- we are- forgotten?” Sovereign Realm asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. That pony I was speaking with, Pinkie Pie methinks? From what I gathered from her, it has been some time since the sight or sound of any Thunder Colt has been beheld in these parts. That mare had me confused from something called ‘Wondercolts,’ whoever they are. It surprised her that I had no knowledge of them!”
Free Reign had a concerned look on her face. This news was a serious blow to her quest. The idea that Thunder Colts had passed out of mind and into fable dashed what little hopes she held.
“No- That- <Frattellino°,> please, we can’t-!”
“<Cognata∙,> we may be relegated to myth by most of Equestria, but I’m certain sure that Princesses Celestia and Luna still remember us. They are alicorns, after all.”
Free radical gasps, “Princess Luna, sir‽ Isn't she imprisoned in the moon?”
“Not anymore, Radical,” Lancer says, “she’s free and been reformed for the last three years or the last twelve seasons.”
“For that long?” Radical pondered, “Next you’ll tell me that L- uh, Discord has been loosed upon Equestria!”
Free Lancer laughed nervously.
“Come off it! Seriously‽”
“I’m as serious as foot and mouth disease, Sergeant. He’s using his magic to help Equestria, not hinder it. Princess Twilight Sparkle was part of the team that reformed him. Jury’s still out if he’ll stay that way.”
There were many in the company that sat uneasy with this information. Even though it’s been more than a millennia since Discord was defeated, most Thunder Colts have trouble mentioned that name. Many of the older ponies still refer to him as “Lord Discord.” Most members of Manor Free have rid themselves of this particular habit.
“So much change in so little time…” remarked Sovereign.
“Four centuries is ‘little time’ for you?”
“You’re young still, Lord Free Lancer,” proclaimed Sovereign, “you haven’t lived for centuries and thus know nothing of time’s alacrity. To you, a year must seem an eternity, but my five centuries have come and gone in a blink of an eye.”
“So you remember a time when Thunder Colts where far more commonplace in Equestira?”
“Aye, I can. There was a time when we Thunder Colts were as numerous as earth ponies.”
“No doubt.”
“The train is moving again.” interjects Free Radical.
Indeed, the train was moving. Porters moved throughout the train, closing off entry ramps; the conductor has called “All Aboard!” Soon, the train pulls out of the Ponyville station. Lancer’s panic begins to rise again. He has naught to distract him save the last few cupcakes and his last pie.
It doesn't take long before the train passes through a tunnel. The dark passage does nothing to alleviate Lancer’s fear. But once through the tunnel, he sees a welcome sight: the banners of Canterlot. Within moments, the conductor is announcing the final stop. The company begins to organize itself to disembark. Cloaks and capes are draped on backs; luggage is retrieved from the baggage car. From the windows, buttresses and parapets zoom by. The train begins to decelerate.
Porters come down the aisles barking, “Canterlot Station! Pulling into Canterlot Station! Please be advised, all visitors to Canterlot may be subject to screening. If Palace Guards approach you, you have been selected for screening. Failure to comply is not recommended.”
“That sounds new,” Liberty Belle commented, “wonder when that was implemented?”
“I’m not sure,” Free fall admitted, “Our most recent communique with the advanced team mentioned nothing of this.”
“It must have occurred recently,” Free Reign surmised, “probably within the last two days or so. The last dispatch from advance was two days ago!”
Free Fall concurs, “There has not been any further dispatches since that time.”
“Then we play this by ear,” announces Free Lancer, “if any of us is singled out for inspection, that party member should submit themselves for screening. All others will rally at the baggage claim to wait the inspected. <Capisce?>”
The company responds with, “<Cosi 'diciamo tutti.*>”
“Alright Thunder Colts, fall in behind me!” Free Lancer orders.
The train slows to a stop and Lancer’s branch of the diplomatic corps is aligned behind him in a delta formation. He can see already that the Princesses have organized a welcoming committee. An area of the platform has been cordoned off; hanging form the rafters is a huge banner with the words “Welcome to Canterlot, Freelancer!” emblazoned on it. Several members of the advance team were there, so were a contingent of Palace guards. Princess Celestia and Luna were also there along with a small army of journalists and paparazzi.
“Oh great-!” Lancer laments, “Okay, Thunder Colts, smile pretty for the cameras!”
Author's Note
It's never really shown if the Royal Guard of Canterlot has any military training. I guess TVY is not the place for warfare or military discipline. In this chapter, though, I hope to show the sort of regimental/Spartan existence they have, but also some aspect of their polyglot-ism.  
† Italian for "wonderful."  
‡ Italian for "what's this."  
° Italian for "little brother."  
∙ Italian for "sister-in-law."  
* Italian: So say we all.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                 An Audience with Royalty                  
//-------------------------------------------------------//
An Audience with Royalty
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…

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                      Master & Pupil                       
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Master & Pupil
The Princess was working on diligently on a new book. It was an historical novel based on the life of Star Swirl the Bearded. It was a rather fascinating yarn, even if it wasn't very accurate, and it more than made up for the disappointment of being exempted from the tonight's rather exclusive banquet. Even though it was at Princess Celestia's behest, the younger princess found compliance deeply frustrating.
She put down the book but not before marking her place. The smell of jasmine tea and hazelnut muffins was wafting in from downstairs, making for a tempting distraction. Her adjunct was busy within the confines of the kitchen in this temporary royal quarters. The drake was baking up a storm this evening to placate his quasi-older sister's pent up grievance. Amongst the multitude capabilities in his extensive skill set, reacting positively to his sorceress' moods was paramount.
"Muffins are ready!" the Drake called.
"Excellent! A muffin break is a capitol idea."
"Aren't we in the capitol?"
Twilight Sparkle chuckled, amused by her ancilla's semantic confusion. This was Spike's greatest asset; despite the cleverness of her avian companion, Owlowscious could not hope to banter with Twilight in the same way Spike could.
"Yes, we are," clarified Twilight, "but that's 'capitol' with an '-ol.' I used 'capital' with an '-al.' It means splendid or excellent."
"Oh!" exclaimed the drake, "Did we just make a pun?"
"Yes, we did," the alicorn answered, poring herself a cup of tea taking a sip, "This is good tea."
"I had some help making it." Spike said.
"Did you? Who was it?"
"Oh, nopony you would know." answered a serpentine voice.
Twilight was startled, for she believed she and Spike were alone in the kitchen. She did a quick sweep of the room and found they were not by themselves. She was surprised to see a familiar great chimera taking a measured sip of tea from a cracked cup; she did her best to not look or act astonished.
"Hello, Discord," Twilight said with a nervous smile, "What brings you here?"
"Oh, you know," Discord replied, before biting into a muffin, "a little of this, of little of that."
Twilight gives the chimera a withering look; by now she has a keen handle on how Discord operates. She trusts him as far as she could buck him and has little tolerance for his infantile nonsense. He ignores her, though.
"Discord," Twilight impugned, "What are you doing here?"
He answers, "Well, now that you ask, I was supposed to be doing something…"
Spike, who was doing his level best to blend into the furniture, now gave Discord a look of deepest reproach. The drake asks with deepest resentment, "Does it have anything to do with with that scroll you're holding?"
"You're no fun," grumbled Discord, "but yes, it does have something to do things tonight…"
"A scroll?" wondered the Princess.
"Yes," riposted Discord, showing the young alicorn the rolled up parchment, "specifically, this scroll."
"I'll take that," Spike said, yet Discord lifted up and away from the drakes grasp. However, Owlowiscious swooped in and snatched it from Discord's clutches; the owl drops the missive at Twilight's hooves. With a burst of magic, she retrieves it from the ground and opens it. She reads it, sipping her tea in an absentminded fashion.
"…it's from Princess Celestia…" she murmurs.
"That's odd," Spike muses, "why didn't she send it through the usual channels?"
"Because I volunteered to do so." croons Discord.
"That's a little unorthodox, even for The Princess," Twilight comments.
Discord gives her a shrewd look and says, "She was, we can say, otherwise engaged."
Exasperated with Discord's obtrusiveness, Twilight returned to her mentor's letter. A new student? Twilight wondered, Didn't The Princess say Sunset Shimmer wasn't ready for instruction yet? Who is this Free Lancer, anyway? I don't remember Princess Celestia mentioning this pony before…
"Wait a minute!" Twilight exclaimed, "Discord, did you just arrive from the diplomatic banquet Princess Celestia held tonight?"
Discord responded, "And if I did?"
"You would have seen the foreign delegation then! I know it's not the Saddle Arabians; she met them just last week."
"You're point being what, exactly?"
"You must know who Princess Celestia guests were!"
Discord replies, "Yes, I guess I could have…"
"Please," Twilight implores, "can you tell me who they are?"
"Well," the chimera muses, "Since you asked."
The draconequus takes another measured sip, then tells Twilight all he heard and saw at the banquet. The explanation is quite forlorn of detail. Discord is no expert at court reporting. The only time he gives anything more than a cursory description is when he expounds on on Free Lancer. His portraiture of the stallion is nigh unto rapturous…
"You should see this stallion, Twilight! So tall and fierce! Almost four pony lengths from flank to tip! And such a proud horn… He couldn't be more perfect if I created him‼ I think you'd like him, Twilight."
"You mean this Free Lancer is an alicorn?!"
"Not just any alicorn, my little dragon," Discord added, "a Thunder Colt!"
The Princess gave Discord of a quizzical glare and asked, "What's a Thunder Colt?"
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" Discord gasps, "My Thunder Colts are alicorns, not unlike yourself, but brimming with chaotic magic! It's been a millenium since I've last seen them… not since their insurrection… Actually, it's more than a millenium, if I recall. It was before Princess Luna turned into Nightmare Mare…"
"How have I not heard about them?" Twilight questions, "Were they petrified like you were?"
Discord scoffs, "After rebelling against me and teaming with Tia and Lulu to seal me away? Too much to hope for…"
"But I've never heard of them," Twilight cried, "and I've read every historical text in Equestria!"
"Well," Discord suggest, "Maybe not every one …"
☈
Early the next morning, a certain herd of ponies has assembled at a good friends home. The building is currently uninhabited, but a great deal of it's former resident's possessions were still strewn about the place. The ponies were discussing a summons sent to them via royal messengers. A mare sporting a stetson on top of her straw colored mane is the first to speak.
"Hey, ya'll, did ya get this delivered to ya this morning?"
A cobalt maned mare answers: "Yes, I did! On official Canterlot stationery, no less."
A candy colored mare exclaims, "I'm so excited‼"
Next the candied mare is a rainbow tressed pegasus who adds, "I wonder what twilight needs us for? My bet is its something awesome!!"
"It must be something urgent, if she summoned us all so soon." said a pale pegasus with pale coat.
The stetsoned mare declares, "Well, I reckon we should get there, a.s.a.p."
"I'm with AJ on this," blurts the rainbowed pegasus, "let's not waste any daylight!"
"But-" complains the cobalt maned unicorn, "I haven't packed-!"
The candy colored mare urges the cobalt maned unicorn, "Come on, Rarity, live a little!"
The unicorn moans and refuses to relent.
The pale coated pegasus tries to reason with the unicorn, "Rarity, Twilight needs us. She would never let us down."
"Oh, all right!" the unicorn concedes.
The stetsoned mare then says, "It's settled then. Let's move 'em out!"
☈
Princess twilight sent her summons via royal currier early the next morning, calling on her Ponyville friends first. She also sent for her two new charges: the recently returned Sunset Shimmer and her new student, Free Lancer. It was her decision to start teaching Shimmer alongside Lancer. Princess Celestia had reservations about letting Shimmer resume her studies; to the monarch's eye, Shimmer's time spent in the mystic looking glass was mismanaged, even though her attitude had improved somewhat. She did agree that Lancer would be an excellent foil for Shimmer's impatience; her measure of the Thunder Colt was one of infinite patience and humility, a desirable trait for any student.
Twilight waited in her royal quarters for her friends. The train from Ponyville was expected to arrive within the hour; she had, as of yet, met her new pupil, although he was the first to arrive to her summons. With her curiosity ramped to epic proportions, Twilight decided to to satisfy her urge and interview the Thunder Colt. he glided to the antechamber where her personal guard escorted the alicorn.
"He's still in there?" she asked.
"Yes, My Princess," answered Flash Sentry, "he's been quiet for almost an hour."
"Wow," she remarks, "he must must be really patient."
"Or asleep," Flash retorts, "Ms. Shimmer is dead to the world in the next room. I haven't heard him snoring, though."
"Let's open the door and find out."
Flash nods, pushing the door of the chamber open. Inside, the french windows at the other end of the room are open; the gossamer curtains billow on the incoming breeze. The Thunder Colt in question is settled on a pouf, looking outward into the adjacent courtyard. A shaft of morning sunlight is just breaching past the outer hedges. Twilight can hear the babbling waters of a fountain, the tweeting of songbirds awakening in the trees and just above the din, a soft voice. Twilight looks at Flash, who shakes his head. Then she realizes it is Lancer's voice; he's singing.
♪"I love the mountains, I love the the clear blue sky
I love big bridges, I love when great whites fly
I love the whole world and all its sights and sounds.
Boom-de-ya-dah! Boom-de-ya-dah! Boom-de-ya-dah! Boom-de-ya-dah!"♫
Twilight clears her throat, saying, "Excuse me, Lord Free Lancer?"
The stallion, upon hearing his name, starts in alarm. He pulls something wrapped around his head, which produces a popping sound. His magic winds a wiring of some sort around a rectangular object. He stands up from his pouf and walks briskly to the princess. His face hold an agog look before an embellished grin appears upon it. It is here that Twilight realizes that most of Discord's depiction of the Thunder Colt was grossly exaggerated.
"You rang?"
"Ah, ye," Twilight began, "We haven't been formally introduced, have we?"
"Neigh," Lancer replied, "but I already know of you, Princess."
Nervously, Twilight says, "Surely you jest."
"I'm not and don't call me Shirley."
"I'm sorry, Your Lordship?"
Lancer chuckles, saying, "Just yankin' your fetlocks."
The alicorn mare giggles anxiously and says, "Ah, a joke!"
Lancer nods, "Yea, verily! Also, for future reference, it's just Free Lancer, Lancer for short. That title has never sat well with me."
"Noted," Twilight replies, "I'm still pretty new to this 'Princess' thing myself. I'm not as accustomed it as I'd like to be."
"Even so, it becomes you," Lancer says, "You're everything I pictured you to be."
Twilight blushes, asking, "Oh, really?"
"Yes, very much so. Mind you," Lancer adds, "I speak with some bias. All the mares in the Retirement Estates are as graceful as you. A good many of them have elegance in spades. Yet, I doubt any of them have your skill in magic. Nor or as eloquent."
"I'm sorry?" said Twilight, bewildered.
Lancer gives a curious look to the Princess, then tilts his head slightly. He sees, just beyond her, a flustered Flash Sentry. It's then he realizes his faux pas.
"By the unfurled wings of Mustang, I've done and made myself misunderstood! Mille scuse, Lady Twilight! I wasn't- I would dare think of flirting with my instructor! I'm sorry if anything I said was misconstrued in such a manner! My intention was to commence with pleasantries. My compliments are strictly platonic in nature."
Twilight laughs nervously, saying, "Ah, yes, pleasantries; just polite- pleasantries."
From somewhere far, a gong sounds. Flash Sentry turns to the sound. From the foyer, the sound of hooves clopping and excited babble can be heard. Princess Twilight, upon hearing her visitors, begins bouncing on her hooves.
"They're here!"
"Who's- here?" Lancer questions.
"Some very important ponies!" Twilight answers, then to Flash Sentry, "Could you gather Sunset Shimmer for me, please?"
"As you wish, my Princess." says Flash, who promptly gallops the length of the corridor. He knocks on the door of the room down at the other end; a reparteé commences from the doorway. The door slams shut and an angry exchange follows. Minutes later, Flash has returned with a mare whose mane reminds Lancer of dancing flames.
"Is this my fellow student?" Lancer asks.
Twilight nods, "Yes, she is. Sunset Shimmer, this is Free Lancer; Free Lancer, Sunset Shimmer."
Lancer holds out a hoof of greeting, but it is not reciprocated.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Shimmer mocks.
"Absolutely," Lancer responds, nonplussed.
"Let's get going then!" Twilight says brightly.
Turning on hoof, Twilight trots towards the sound of of the voices, Flash Sentry flanking her in lockstep.
"Follow me!" The Princess says.
Shimmer and Lancer follow in her wake down the corridor, away from their respective antechambers. The group walks in silence for several moments; only the babble downstairs and the clopping of hooves down the hall are heard. AFter a while, the quiet is broken.
"I just hope these ponies aren't dignitaries. I've seen more a lifetimes share of them." Lancer comments.
"No dignitaries toady, Lancer," Twilight retorts, "but they are some of my VIPs."
"What's the matter, Feathers?" Shimmer chides, "Tired of pressing the hooves?"
"Nessun commento," Lancr answers, "besides the headache I suffered afterward…"
Shimmer had a zinger ready for Lancer but never had the chance to utter it. The procession had stopped; they had reached the foyer. Waiting for them there were five ponies who recognized Twilight at once. The Princess was delighted to see them as well.
Twilight announces, "Free Lancer, Sunset Shimmer, I'd like you to meet my very best friends!"
The candy colored mare is the first to approach, whom Lancer is already acquainted.
"This is Pinkie Pie." Twilight says.
Shimmer says nothing but does hold out a perfunctory hoof; Pinkie Pie shakes it vigorously.
"We've met before," Lancer says as Pinkie converges on him.
"Oh, yeah!" the candied pony exclaims, "Bee-tee-double-ewe, how were the cupcakes?"
"Delicious!"
The next pony in the introductions is a sandy colored mare with a stetson on her head.
"Applejack's the name; Apple bucking is my game!"
Next was a pale coated mare with a shock of deep cobalt for a mane. It was expertly coiffed.
"The name is Rarity, darlings."
"Enchantée, Lancer says, planting a kiss on her outstretched hoof. Her resultant blush is not unexpected.
"I'm Rainbow dash, reserve member of the Wonderbolts and all around mare-of-action!"
"Undoubtedly," Lancer remarks, "Maybe I'll see you at a show sometime."
"You know it it!" Dash beams.
The last pony in for introductions is a creamy mare with a sugar pink mane. She is not as forthcoming as her fellow mares; in fact, she looks downright terrified of being here. To Lancer, this is of no concern. He has seen his share of fillies and mares, but never in his short life has he met a pegasus like this. His heart fails him for the first time and a lump forms in his throat; cotton has stuffed his mouth closed.
M-my name is Fl- Fluttershy. P- pleased to meet y-you.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Lancer says.
M-my name i-is F-Fluttershy. Please-pleased t-to me-meet y-you…"
"My apologies, I still can't hear you."
"You'll have to forgive Fluttershy," The Princess says, "she can be rather shy around ponies she doesn't know."
"Oh, no worries," Lancer replies, "I can understand a little apprehension when meeting somepony new."
"A 'little' apprehension?" Dash says and is immediately shushed down by Rarity and Applejack.
"It is a delight to meet any friend of Lady Twilight," Lancer says, "and it my pleasure to meet you, Lady Fluttershy."
"You're welcome." she says, to which Lancer nods.
"Well, now that we've been introduced, I thinks it's time I explain why i gathered you all here today." reveals Twilight.
"Oh!" Pinkie Pie shouts, "Are we going to have a party?!"
"Sorry, Pinkie," Princess Twilight answers, "no parties today."
Pinkie Pie sighs dejectedly at this news.
"What are we doin' here, Twilight?" Applejack inquires.
"I'm glad you asked," Twilight begins, "as you may know, now that I'm a Princess, my studies with Princess Celestia are over. There is still much i need to learn, but the majority of my lessons are done with. That said, part of my royal duties include teaching what I've learned. Princess Celestia has tasked me with instructing Free Lancer in the magic of friendship. Lancer isn't my only student; Sunset Shimmer has just returned from the Magic Mirror. Her experiences on the other side have taught her much. Although The Princess has- some objection, to Shimmer continuing her studies, I have taken responsibility for her instruction."
"Wasn't Sunset Shimmer the one that who stole your crown?" Dash asked querulously.
"Yeah, that was me," Shimmer answered, "not my proudest moment, I'll admit. I don;t blame any of you for not trusting me. Doing that was the third dumbest thing I've ever done. Number two was trying to destroy Twilight Sparkle."
"Only the second dumbest?" Dash challenges.
Shimmer nods, then continues, "Because the dumbest thing I ever did was abandon my studies with the Princess. I let myself be fooled by The Mirror and that blinded me to all else. I'm sorry for what I did; all I wanted to do was be the hero of my own story. Failing that, I wanted the power to change my destiny. Fat lot of good that did me. I had- have a lot to learn.
"I don't expect your forgiveness, but in the least, I hope you're willing to at least- I dunno- tolerate me. I'll be honest with you all: I'm not the easiest pony to get along with. In the past I've been self-centered, conniving, manipulative, brutish, and vindictive. Those traits didn't get me what I wanted; not one ounce. So, I'll be doing things Princess Celestia and Twilight's way from now on. I want to do things right, for a change."
"Well," Rarity chimes, "I suppose you should be given a chance. I would love to style that gorgeous mane yours, darling."
Shimmer smiles, her eyes brimming with tears and says, "I'd like that."
"Good," Twilight says, "because that's the reason I asked you girls here today. I learned the power of friendship through you all. Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie, you all taught me what no book could. I'm hoping that you five could extend that same courtesy to Lancer and Shimmer."
The Ponyville Gang conserves amongst themselves, and after several moments, they agree to help. Princess twilight makes them "Pinkie Promise" to it.
"Repeat after me, girls,
'Cross my heart
and hope to fly
stick a cupcake in my eye!"
There was a ritual handshake between Twilight and her friends. This made Lancer chortle.
"What's so funny?" Dash asks.
"Yeah, Feathers," jeers Shimmer, "what's got your funny bones?"
"Sorry, it's just you girls reminded me of a similar oath we Thunder Colts take."
"You do?" Pinkie inquires.
Lancer nods and says, "Ours is a little different than your, but is essentially the same."
"How does it go?" Twilight asks.
Lancer sits on his hind legs and raises his right fore hoof, reciting thus:
"Cross my heart
and hope to fry
with a lightning bolt betwixt the eyes."
The room fell silent as Lancer raised himself to standing again.
"Admittedly," Lancer adds, "that was a little macabre. We Thunder Colts tend towards fatalistic that way."
"O-kay…" Twilight mutters, "I do believe our business here is concluded. Who's hungry?"
⚜
Author's Note
Okay, the last chapter in the arc of The Thunder Colt Saga. Writer's block was kicking my ass through for this chapter. Next time, I'll have the chapters planned out beforehand… Anyway, some notes on this chapter.  
Finally, FINALLY, I get to introduce Twilight in the story. My notes for tTCS have the story placed within canon a month after the events in Equestria Girls. This why Shimmer appears here. She'll be an integral part of the story later.  
I hope I was able to humanize Lancer a bit here. I found out a little earlier in the month that there was a character fairly similar to my stallion, albeit in the Gen2 series, "My Little Pony Tales." (The pun is killing me!) Along with this writing this chapter, I also redrew FL to better match this old skool colt. Some of his persona is included in here, too.  
I tired to write Discord a lot like I imagine John de Lancie would: smooth, calculating, irreverent. I also liked the idea that he lies to Twilight about Free Lancer. This gives The Lord of Chaos a little thrill to mind fuck a new princess…  
Did I include any Chekhov's Guns in here? Methinks I did.  
Shimmer's line after Rarity's compliment came to me from, of all places,a Rock Star game, namely "Bully." One of the female characters in the game, Zoey Taylor, says that line after the protagonist, Jimmy Hopkins, kisses her. I figured that's the way Shimmer would react to that comment.  
Speaking of Shimmer, her attitude through most of this is one of appraisal. She's only recently returned from the Mirror and she's learned plenty from the Gang there. She's still getting used to being a pony again, so she feels more than a little apprehensive. SHe's not entirely sure that the Ponyville ponies are her friends are not. She's also a little pissed about getting teamed up with a pony she sees as a rival. That's why Shimmer calls Lancer "Feathers." She might see him in a different light later on… That'll be a story for another day.  
Keep Calm and Flutter On, Bronies!