One Horn Too Many

The sound of their hooves striking the dirt was the only one for miles. A disquieting stillness floated in the air, an unnamed tension that followed the procession of unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies following them both. Celestia kept her gaze resolutely forward. Past a patch of dying trees, she could make out the habitations they had been searching for the last three days.

Luna’s first thought had been to dispatch a company of pegasi to accompany them in the air as they searched for the camps that were rumored to exist near the Gray Meadow. Celestia had nearly agreed, if only for efficiency’s sake. But there had been storms in the eyes of their unicorn and earth pony attendants. So soon after Unification, they could not afford to show favor to any one tribe, regardless of practical advantages.

Luna had spoken against such a decision at great lengths, but only in private. Together, they presented a united front. Just as they meant to do today.

As the shape of the houses became clearer, she slowed, and her sister matched the pace.

“You will speak no word lest you be authorized by myself or mine sister,” Luna commanded. “You shall threaten none that do not clearly threaten us first, and only as a last resort. Are we understood?”

Most guards replied with a quick shout, the rest with a nod.

Good thinking, sister. The thought had escaped Celestia’s mind. Too many worries had distracted her. The ones they had been bidden to seek would be near, but this was precisely the time to keep a tight leash on their soldiers. Back at the castle, any pony that had let slip even a glimpse of hatred had been left discarded, with a word to their direct superior to give them some suitable punishment.

The persecution of ponies. A madness in another name. They spoke of it still in the outskirts. Far from the reach of either alicorn’s wings, ponies whispered of bicorns with a hatred that turned her stomach.

Satisfied with their escorts’ reaction, Luna turned her gaze to Celestia. “I believe we are as ready as we might be.” I hope you know what you’re doing.

Celestia swallowed. This was it. One of the last elements of their mentor’s legacy. The hiding tribe. Ponies that had suddenly appeared during the era of Discord, and had failed to leave once the mad spirit had been vanquished.

Straightening, she led the procession into the edges of the village. Her eyes darted around in search for signs of life, any. Yet amongst the dust and the shadows, none seemed to live here. Every house had its hinges wide open, every window barricaded.

Warmth seeped into her left side as her sister closed in, a troubled look to her eyes. And something more, recognition.

Rumours spoke of two-horned ponies moving in the corner of one’s eyes, of towns that sprouted in the middle of nowhere, that nopony ever occupied.

“I suspect they have… an intuition, of a sort, Celestia,” came the echoes of her old teacher’s gruff voice. “They can avoid being found, if they do not wish it.”

At the very least, their reports had not been mistaken. This was a bicorn village, or had been, if they were unlucky.

“They steal your fate!” she remembered hearing. “My neighbour met one, and he fell in a ditch whilst the goathead was completely unharmed!”

“They are his children! They live in the ruins of his kingdom!”

Everypony lived in the ruins of Discord’s kingdom. Everypony, but only one tribe seemed blamed for it. That was what they had come to stop.

The faint whispers of her guards faded entirely. Dead silence suddenly surrounded her.

There was a pony waiting for them. One lone, greying pony sitting on the porches of a slightly larger home, looking at the royal escorts with heavy resignation. He stretched, rolled his shoulders, muttering something the wind stole away, and trotted forward.

The stallion took his time, or couldn’t make it any faster, but Celestia took the time to assess him. Thinner than any pony in her group by far, but not without a certain poise. A few wrinkles had begun to dig around his copper eyes, right into the brown of his fur. He held his head high, despite the energy she saw it demanded of him. His horns twirled from his head, like a twisted crown.

When he arrived to their level, and only then, he inclined his head.

Celestia felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.

Her sister caught her left front hoof and squeezed. “Tia...” she sounded faintly sick, worried.

“I know, Luna.”

Of course she did. What other power would make her wings shake? What other power would have her mind flash back to the rains of elephants and the jellified weapons?

It had a name, and for a heartsplitting second, she was almost unable to think it.

Chaos.

His work. His last joke on the world of ponies.

For but the span of a heartbeat, both sisters understood why ponies had taken to calling the bicorns ‘Chaos spawns’.

“Are you the leader of this village?” she asked, and cursed the unsteadiness of her voice.

“For a given value of ‘leader’,” he replied. “I am the oldest surviving pony around. That means something to us bicorns. I am thus the elder of our herd. Oh, don’t bother searching,” he added to the guards spreading around. “They have all left. But they might return if I tell them.”

Luna’s frown was all too visible. “We see.”

The elder half-turned to her, but didn’t quite take his eyes off Celestia. “They say there was a coronation ceremony in the midlands. They say they crowned two mares with attributes of all pony tribes. They sing the name of Discord’s slayers.”

They had sung. Now they bemoaned the idea of taxes and a unified government that didn’t look at tribes first.

Luna’s wings bristled. “They speak wrongly.”

“Oh?”

Celestia nodded. “My sister and I are alicorns. We embody the aspects of unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies. But that is not all pony tribes.”

“Nothing of our coats glitter as do those of crystal ponies in the far north. Our wings are of feathers, not leather like those of thestrals in the deep caverns. And on our heads, there is but one horn unlike every bicorn in this camp.”

“We do not forget those that are different from us, elder. There are six pony tribes, not three.”

And she knew, some of their guards had bristled. Though her gaze had not left the olden bicorn, she could see the flicker of her sister’s, and the same anger that Celestia felt within. They had not fought for some ponies! Harmony was not for some ponies!

“We are the princesses of all ponies,” she put on the word the emphasis of a rebuke, and she heard a minute clink of armours when some of their escorts flinched. The elder, on the other hoof, showed a hint of a smirk, as if he had caught her meaning. “We shall do whatever it takes to help you.”

The elder’s smirk slid off, and something else entered his gaze. “Yes, you will.”

--

Pierre fell more than he sat down on his cushion. His hooves and his jaw ached, but it was a good ache. The kind one got from effort, real work. And this time, a small kindle of pride remained lit in his chest as he saw plates of steaming vegetables be distributed around the table.

Contrarily to human children, the little ones here cheered at the sights of the vegetable dishes placed in front of them. They squirmed a bit in place, following Presage’s progress around the dinner table. Pierre was willing to bet that as soon as the last pony was served, they’d dive in.

“...And of course, our guests,” said Presage as she passed the last plate around. “Eat up, everypony. A loving meal, prepared with some unexpected help.”

Pierre blushed and grinned at the same time. Nopony waited any longer to sample the dish.

The first comment came in within seconds. “This is delicious! I’ve never had it before. What is it?”

“Oh, Princess, you flatter us,” Presage said with a faint flush to her cheeks. “I’m certain you’ve had much better in the palace.”

“I’ve rarely eaten in the palace, actually,” Twilight replied. “I have had a taste of the Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns’s cafeteria food however. Not quite the same thing as this. I’d guarantee there would be a much bigger turnout if this were served there. Do you mind if I ask the recipe? Pinkie Pie would love to try this.”

“It’s only a Three Sisters ratatouille. Squash, corn and green beans. Of course, there are other vegetables, but those are the most important ones.”

Pierre looked up from his plate, curiosity ticked. “Why? I mean, I had noticed when we were cooking, but what makes them more important?”

“Oh, I read about that in an history book once,” Twilight cut in, eerily close to her usual self. “The Three Sisters are a tradition from before the true unification, aren’t they?”

Presage nodded, serving another helping to one of her daughters. “Indeed. Those three were always planted together. Each plant mutually benefits the other two. They’re well-suited to be grown without any earth pony magic. It’s one of the oldest bicorn dishes we have left.”

“This is so fascinating,” murmured Twilight, poking the various vegetables with her forks, almost afraid to eat them. “It’s like being served a piece of history on a plate.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, Princess,” Presage said. “It is only a traditional bicorn dish. Nothing too special.”

Edward swallowed a mouthful and smirked. “No, no. The princess is right. It is good that bicorns remember the times of their independance.”

Twilight’s gaze grew frosty.

Around the dinner table, the older bicorns fell quiet. A charged look passed between Evocator and Presage. Omens waddled her way out of the dining hall carrying the plates, followed by Faith. Fortune’s grandmother, for her part, munched on her ratatouille with an amused smile.

“It’s your culture too, Edward, Pierre,” Evocator said emphatically. “Even if you were not born in Equestria, you two are bicorns, and our species has a history of being torn apart by circumstance. We should celebrate when it brings us together.”

Under the table, Fortune’s hoof briefly brushed against Pierre’s. Perhaps as nothing more than a reminder, a show of support for him. For as soon as it started, the contact ended, its warmth lingering a second too long, and it was hard to take his eyes off Fortune.

But thinking of Twilight Sparkle at the dinner table, probably thinking of new ways to ‘convince’ him and Edward of the good of her crusade… that motivated him well enough. He had told Rarity, and he could tell himself again. Only if it’s our choice.

“Are you going to be our new big brother?”

Pierre choked on his sip of water.

“Ace!” came the chastising voice of Presage. The mare had turned on a warning glare to the colt that had spoken.

The foal was quick to point a dark green hoof toward the filly on his left. “But Cornucopia said he was!”

On Ace’s left, a pale orange filly scowled at him. “Did not!”

“Did too! You said Fortune was gonna marry him and have lots of babies with him.”

Pierre choked again.

“Swords Ace,” rumbled Evocator’s voice. “You are embarrassing our guests. Apologize.”

“But that’s not embarrassing stuff!” the colt protested. “You and mommy and aunties talk about babies all the time!”

Good Omens stopped circling the table, depositing a plate of steaming vegetables between the salad and the tomatoes. “Ace. Look at our guest.” She gestured in Pierre’s direction. “He’s fidgeting and his ears are low. He is embarrassed, and that’s what’s important. Not if your aunties and I are fine talking about it.”

The colt shrunk in his seat. “Sorry.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” Pierre said, praying that none saw how deeply he was blushing under his fur. “That’s a difficult question to answer right now. Your sister and I are just friends right now.”

Ace’s face scrunched up, his head tilted to the side as if seeing something strange. “Oh, okay.”

There was a momentary lull in the conversations. Most ponies simply went back to eating, Bronze Chainmail and Attention Span amongst that number. The two guards, seated next to Twilight, ate their fills without many comments, though the younger of the two looked quite curious about his surroundings.

In the end however, it was a filly’s voice that broke the silence. “Say, Daddy, when are we going to see Estray and Daydreams again?”

And cast it again on her parents. Evocator and Presage exchanged uneasy looks, whilst Good Omens made herself busy with giving out second helpings to ponies all around the table.

Presage cleared her throat. “Cornucopia… your brothers are very busy in Brighton and Hooves. Their wives have just gotten pregnant again.”

Ace’s pout only grew bigger. “What’s that got to do with coming to see us?”

Evocator chuckled under his hooves, pointedly ignoring the death glare Good Omens sent his way. “Son, you will understand when you’re married. Husbands have to take good care of their wives, especially when they’re pregnant.”

Good Omens picked up an empty bowl in the middle of the table, still pointedly glaring at her husband. “Least you can do.”

“So we can’t go until Mommy’s not preg… pregm… till she doesn’t have a baby in her tummy?”

This time, Omens looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Sweetie, it’s not just that. The train rides is…”

And the former humans could recognize the emotions flickering on the mare’s face, through her blush and shifting eyes.

Shame. Annoyance. Guilt.

Edward and Pierre needed not be detectives to know that train tickets for the whole family must have been out of their price ranges. Even leaving some ponies behind, it would be exorbitant. Twenty or so tickets? And they would not even begin to think on the accommodations.

“Maybe when your nieces or nephews are born,” said Presage with an unsteady smile.

The brother and sister did not insist, but by the look on their faces, they were fairly unpleased by this development. Afterwards, Span attempted to pick up the conversation, mostly orientating toward small talk. And though Twilight and the adult bicorns tried, nopony seemed particularly invested. To be fair, neither were Edward and Pierre, or the foals.

Pierre mostly focused on the plate of ratatouille, having a harder time swallowing the vegetables now that he had been reminded of his hosts’ financial situation. He cast a glare in Twilight’s direction. She had to have known, if only intellectually. And by what he knew, none of Fortune’s parents could actually get a job to ease up on their troubles.

On his right, Fortune shifted in her seat. She had stopped eating, her lips pinched.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Fortune, are you okay?”

She startled as if she had been caught red-handed in something blatantly illegal, and plastered a smile on her face. “Y-yeah, I'm alright, Pierre. Don’t worry.”

Easier said than done… Still, around the dinner table likely wasn’t the right place to speak of such matters. Not in front of her younger siblings, he suspected. With a sigh, he finished off the last of his squash. The chatters around him grew a little, but he didn’t really listen.

He did however see Edward turn to the end of the table, where the eldest mare grumbled into her soup. “Something troubling you, venerable one?”

“Oh, I think you already know, colt.” Her near toothless mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Your honeyed charms ain’t good enough to pull the wool o’er my eyes. But I find you funny. Clear-sighted at that.” She chuckled low. “Oh, yes, clear-sighted.”

She nodded toward Pierre, and Ed turned to look back with an unimpressed glare. Well, Pierre shrugged, it wasn’t his fault they were loud.

Slowly, the dinner came to a halt, Omens, Presage and Evocator picking up the plates around the table, and gently shooing anypony done so the ones still waiting could have a turn. Neither Pierre or Edward begrudged them for that. Their insistence to help with the dishes were met with firm refusal.

“You are our guests,” Presage said, “and you’ve already helped with preparing the food.”

“Well, you have welcomed us into your home so kindly,” Twilight cut in, “we could not in good conscience simply add this to your workload. Private Span, Corporal Chainmail, you two are in charge of cleaning.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” they said together before they began trotting toward the kitchen.

Omens followed them with her eyes, a very small wrinkle above her brows. “Ah, allow me. I’ll show you the way.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Attention Span said, inclining his head a bit as they disappeared inside the kitchen.

“Now that this is being taken care of,” Twilight went on, turning her attention to Evocator. “I would like to discuss my friends’ arrangement with you. We had a few things planned for, and
I would like to make sure nothing will go wrong.”

Fortune’s parents exchanged looks.

“Of course,” Starry Eyes said politely. “I suggest we go back to the dining room. It’ll be easier to work.”

And they were gone.

For a second, nopony quite knew what to say, so the foals did as they did best, avoid boredom and complicated situations. Most slipped out toward the living room.

“Now,” Twilight started, capturing everypony’s attention once more, “while I would love to spend most of the evening talking with you all, I did promise the chief to meet with him today.”

“We understand, Princess,” Evocator assured her. “I suppose we will see you all tomorrow then?”

“Dear,” Presage cut in, “Fortune suggested that we give Estray’s and Daydreams’ beds to Edward and Pierre.”

Good Faith giggled and waggled her eyebrows at her older sister. Said older sister retaliated with a hoof to the back of the head.

Evocator briefly looked at his daughters. “Well, it’s not as if they are being used by anypony else. If that’s fine with them and the princess...”

Edward and Pierre rolled their eyes.

“Most certainly! I’d say this is ideal, actually. This is probably as authentic an experience as it gets. Edward and Pierre would get the most of this, I think.”

Big surprise there.

It was thus agreed. It probably beat being shoved in some small military beds somewhere. At least, here they knew the owners somewhat. And, cherry on top, Twilight only left Tempered Steel to watch over them throughout the night. She and the other guards went to meet the reserves’ chief.

Pierre was contemplating their luck when Swords Ace yawned wide and loud.

“Almost ready for bed, huh?” he grinned.

“Wha...? No!” The colt looked panicked. “I’m not tired. Who’s tired? Maybe Cornucopia or Coin, but I’m good. I don’t need to go to bed now.”

His bright wide smile both incited his siblings to imitate him and failed to convince any of the adults around him.

“Well, son,” said Evocator, “our guests have had a long day, and you and your siblings have school tomorrow. So, I’d say this is bedtime.”

Predictably, a chorus of groans and moans erupted in reply to this.

“Now, now, don’t be difficult,” Starry Eyes told the foals as he began herding them toward the stairs. “You don’t want to look bad in front of our guests, do you?”

“But Mooooom...” whined Cornucopia, to no avail. She was ruthlessly directed upstairs.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Good Omens added. “The grown-ups will be going to bed too.” With a gentle hoof over her distended belly. “Your littlest brother is sleepy too.”

“Oh,” Fortune said, turning to them as she realized something, “Pierre, Edward, allow me. I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.”

“Which won’t be in the same room as you, young lady,” Evocator mentioned in passing, but not without a very serious warning.

Pierre felt his ears flatten on top of his head while Ed poorly concealed a snort under a bout of coughing. His glare also failed to affect his ‘friend’. What was his life?

“I know, I know,” Fortune bemoaned. Then, quieter, “I swear, they all think I am only waiting for the right occasion to start rebelling.”

He tried not to imagine that, but the image was too good not to think about. With a sly grin, he leaned in closer. “Are you?” he whispered, pretending to glance around for guards or parents. “Wanna rebel together?”

She snorted. “Not you too.”

“And you two will deny flirting after subjecting me to this travesty?”

They straightened as if someone had replaced their spines with steel bars. Identical blushes covered their faces, though a scowl accompanied Pierre’s.

Edward’s unimpressed stare dared him to contradict his statement.

Flustered, Fortune grabbed both stallions and turned them toward the stairs. “Ah, right, sorry. The bedrooms. I’ll show you.”

They did not trip on any of the stairs, owing it to some miracle. At the speed Fortune had pulled them up, they both expected to trip on their legs or the edge of a step. Rather, they made it safe and sound to the top floor, foals zigzagging between their legs. Fortune found it endearing in a ‘yup, that’s my family’ way. Edward? Judging by his scowl, he seemed to wish he could hug them, or more precisely, their throats. Tightly.

“So, the bathrooms are to your right, over there,” -- she pointed to the end of the hallway -- “or on your left, over there,” -- she motioned to the other end -- “or there’s one downstairs, the first door on your right, just next to the living room. I suggest not waiting at the last moment to go. There is quite the traffic jam there in the morning. And that’s without considering the bathroom exclusive to my parents.”

“I can imagine, yeah,” Pierre said, chuckling. “With that many kids... ”

She gave him a light-hearted, knowing look. “We manage. Mostly.”

“I don’t doubt it.” His laugh grew fainter, and the smile on his face faded. For a second, a he fiddled, words coming and leaving him in the same second. He wanted to tell her something. He felt as if he ought to. But, in the end, he just cleared his throat. “Well... Good night, Fortune.”

She leaned in.

“Good night, Pierre.”

Only for a soft nuzzle against his cheek. Then she was gone, into the room with most of her little sisters.

Pierre’s hoof rose to touch the spot on his face. Heat lingered, but he could not tell if it was from her touch or his own blushing. Ha! He might as well give up all pretending. He was disappointed. He would have kissed her.

Sighing in both frustration and longing, he entered the bedroom after Edward. He plainly refused to look at his friend. There had to be a smirk on his face by now, if not a full-blown judgemental stare.

At least, the bedroom was nice enough. Two pairs of bunk beds, both comfortable if old-looking, with just enough space for two adult ponies to stand side-by-side between the beds. Wordlessly, he picked on the closest one and dropped on his back.

“Hey!”

A little dark green head peeked down from the top bed. That was fine. Pierre didn’t need that year of his life. He could do with more frights and jumpscares.

“Are you suuure you’re not going to be our new big brother?” Ace asked, frowning in suspicion.

Ed snorted, settling down on his cot and smirking at Pierre. “He’s French. It’s probably just lust.”

“Lust?” repeated the colt.

A pillow hit Ed right in the face.

“Ignore him, Ace. He says crazy things, like rugby being better than football and British cuisine being creative.” Pierre ruffled the colt’s mane. “And yes, I’m sure. I simply think your big sister is a nice pony. And you should be courteous to nice ponies.”

Edward devolved into pure snickering. They did not fall asleep quickly.

--

Edward was galloping alongside an endless wall. He knew there was an end somewhere. He just had to find it.

His hooves slipped on sprawled newspapers, on clipped articles showing a bicorn stallion with a winning grin and a shining golden coat. Ponies were speaking. Chattering. The same words. Clear-sighted. He sat at the bottom of a hill, watching as statues with two horns littered the path up to the castle on the mountain. A filly buried under kitchen knives. Clear-sighted, he heard again, an old mare cackling. The statues had familiar faces. Bicorns he had known, if even briefly. Littering the path. Gravel pouring out of their scars.

Batwings, swooping down to lift him up the ground.

Clear-sighted.

The wings could break if he touched them. They were brittle things, like bird bones, like paper left to dry. Neglected through the years, rapidly approaching their breaking point.

The mountain side grew rapidly, rushing to meet them and break them upon its cliffsides. He pawed frantically at the wings, his struggling only making the hold tighten.

“Stop!”

A passage opened in the rock, like the maws of a monster, like the doors of a cell.

The dark.

Edward awoke with a gasp.

The first sight his eyes took in was that of a bleak, bland grey ceiling. In the corner of his eyes, a half-open shutter let filter a handful of rays of sunshine, like the bars of a prison cell. His breathing slowed down as his mind caught up with Reality.

Fur clung to his skin. Wet, sweaty fur. A shudder of disgust ran down his spine. To think he would need to get used to this.... Well, only until they found some solution to this infernal predicament. Speaking of personal hells...

No hellish spawn remained in the beds, ready to swarm him the very second he kept his eyes open. He could graciously thank whatever guardian angel he had for this respite. And reaffirm to himself that he would never have this many children. Not even if the fate of the world hinged on it.

He’d say “we had a good run” and then die.

Sighing, he rolled himself out of bed, landing on four legs like any common animal. With a creak of bones and joints, he took the first few steps out of bed. And more or less ended next to another. The room, by virtue of necessity, hosted as many as six, thus space was sparse.

Pierre’s body remained unmoving, save for a flick of his tail and a slight shift of his front legs. A thin trail of drool dripped on the pillow. Edward had to roll his eyes at that, such a typical sight.

Contemplating the unintelligent lifeform splayed over the bedsheets, the much smarter Brit allowed himself a smirk. The snail-slurper had clearly gotten too comfortable if he could sleep soundly in the same room as Ed.

It wasn’t really a buck. Ed had been raised on good manners, thus he wouldn’t dent the furnitures of his gracious hosts. Especially considering their likely restrained budget.

It was more of a kick, just hard enough to send Pierre catapulting himself awake out of bed. And falling on his back.

“I will murder you, Ed...” groaned the maroon bicorn kissing the floor.

“Promises,” Edward crooned as he left the room.

Though unfamiliar with the layout, he knew enough to climb down the stairs and follow his nose. There had to be at least one good side to their furry transformation, right? Fresh, forgetting his nightmare rather easily, he trotted inside the dining room. His supposed instinct failed to warn him.

Breakfast was no trivial matter when there were easily eight foals under the age of ten demanding food. A small miracle could be declared when only four of those little furballs could be seen around the table, whilst two adult bicorns sat at the table and a third walked around carrying plates of food. Of course, the picture was marred by the presence of certain guards and a certain princess.

A few heads turned at his entrance. “Ah, Edward,” greeted Evocator with a warm voice. “Come join us. We are the last ones to eat this morning. The rest are spread across the house with Starry Eyes and Faith watching over them.”

“Much obliged,” he said, inclining his head.

In the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of Twilight glaring in annoyance. But what did she expect? For him to be rude at the people offering him a place at their table without asking him to breed in return? Yeah, he would have to hammer that part down later, if she truly wondered.

Small talk began anew around the table, the topics of which Edward did not quite listen to. Good Omens, if he remembered the pregnant mare’s name right, had just placed a bowl of food in front of him. Swallowing back his annoyance at his lack of fingers, he started attacking the pastries and boiled eggs with good appetite.

Minutes later, Pierre entered the dining room, eyes almost shut, mane dishevelled. Slowly, he dragged himself to an empty cushion next to Edward.

“If you’ll give me thirty seconds to stop sleepwalking, I’ll give you a hand.”

In return for his generous offer, all he received were blank looks.

“Hoof. I’ll help,” he groaned, resting his forehead against the cool wooden table. “Do you have any coffee?”

Now, Pierre was tired, supremely so, but not enough not to feel the unease suddenly filling the air. Not knowing what kind of faux-pas he had done, he hazarded a look up, only to see Starry Eyes and Evocator blinking back their shock.

“Foreigners,” Presage told her herdmates, and they instantly settled.

Evocator even facehoofed. “Can’t believe we didn’t think of that.”

“Coffee can have negative impacts on your health, Pierre. It’s not even sold in the reserve,” Presage patiently explained. “We do however have a lot of tea.”

Since he had been raised to be always polite to his hosts, Pierre did not suddenly devolve into cursing, but it was a close thing. Instead, he buried his face in his hooves again, and groaned in despair. “Because why not suck the joy out of every possible aspect of my life?”

On his left, Edward picked up a cup of tea, nicely steaming, and savored it all the more, knowing of his friend’s woes. Adding a spoon of perfectly serviceable scrambled eggs and tomatoes to his plate, the day was off to a decent enough start.

“Here, Clairvoyance,” said Good Omens as she put down a plate in front of the her mother-in-law.

When had she sat down? Pierre’s early troubles must have distracted him at the wrong time. “Ah, good morning, venerable elder,” Ed greeted. “I hope your night was restful.”

The old mare chuckled in her oatmeal. “Haven’t lost the silver tongue yet, have you?”

“I would be remiss. We have little else here. Naught but our words and our minds.” With a smirk, he pointed at his friend. “And since it’s Pierre we’re talking about… well, let’s go with one mind and two mouths.”

“Va te faire enculé avec une tronçonneuse,” Pierre grumbled.

He failed to notice Fortune’s curious look, his muzzle hovering too close to his plate.

“Prench,” said Clairvoyance, mildly amused. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“We didn’t.” Ed took another sip of his cuppa. For all their faults, those ponies could brew some mean tea. “Not that anyone thought it was particularly important before imprisoning us.”

Something sharp shone in the old mare’s eyes. “You. You aren’t from around these parts at all.”

Ed cast a curious gaze on her, lips near posed to drink. “I believe that’s what I said, venerable one.”

She shook her head. “No, not Prance, not even further East. You’re not from anywhere near here. So where from?”

The span of an heartbeat, Edward stared. Then, composing himself, he placed his cup down with a gentle clink of porcelain on wood. Nopony was paying them any mind, it seemed. Twilight and the guards were in deep conversation with Evocator and Starry Eyes at the ends of the table, and Good Omens was serving her foals one last helping, or getting one foal out of their seat.

“Your wisdom amazes me. We’ve been telling Princess Lightshow for a week or so and yet you realized it without even asking.”

Clairvoyance turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking away from Edward. Down the table, Twilight Sparkle was enthusiastically noting down every word out of her son’s mouth.

“She seems the listening type,” she commented without intonation.

“‘Seems’ is an apt choice of word,” Ed grunted. “She has very selective ears.”

A clutter of plates in the sink crashed so loudly all the heads around the table turned. Toward one Good Faith so excited she almost looked like she was vibrating. “Aunties? Dad? I’m done with the dishes, Mom has got most of the brood ready for school. Can I go with Mom now?”

Ed’s eyebrows rose as Faith’s grandmother facehoofed. “That silly filly… Can’t even look grim for her own execution...”

Good Omens’ expression softened considerably. Without paying any mind to her mother-in-law, the pregnant mare softly brushed aside her herd daughter’s fringe to the side. “Yes, you can go. But you have to stay with your mother. Not run ahead like last time. You’re just turning sixteen, that’s still young.”

“Not that young, auntie,” Faith said with a sly smile. “I could totally get there on my own.”

Good Omens let out a little chuckle. “You could, but you still need Presage’s signature on the forms.”

“If you would be so kind as to let us come, I would be extremely grateful. I feel this could help Edward and Pierre appreciate just how important it is to bicorns as a whole.”

Ed’s cup winced under his grip.

“I believe we already got the point when they forced it on us during our hospital stay,” he ground out.

“Obviously not, since you are here now.”

Ed’s cup clattered on the table. It was the polite option. He wouldn’t have wanted his gracious hosts to have to pick up shards.

Somepony cleared their throat.

“I… I don’t mind.” Faith blushed, her previously excited smile more of a grimace. “If it helps, sure. I just want to be finally declared fit. That’s all.”

Her parents jumped on the line like a lifeline.

“And you will be. It’s your last one. Afterward, you’ll be considered a grown mare.” Evocator moved to hug her. “Happy birthday, Faith.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

More well-wishes were exchanged on the topic afterward, but Edward could not stay long enough to hear them. He stomped his way to the front door, unsurprised to see Tempered Steel waiting. The thestral said nothing at his arrival, just offering the slightest nod of acknowledgement. No more than he gave the rest, minutes later.

The trip to the reserve’s hospital was particularly uneventful. Most streets were still near empty at this hour, the air of a lazy day hanging over the rows of houses. Some foals were trotting behind their parents, saddlebags full of books and pencils, distinctively lacking in enthusiasm.

The sight made Ed chuckle. At least, some things never changed.

The hospital itself reminded him of their trip to the emergency room in Ponyville. As sterile in smell and personality as any other, a bored looking secretary at the reception desk, and nurses trotting in and out of the entrance area.

Presage and Good Faith led them to the second floor without any hesitation. The few nurses that stopped to notice them greeted the two mares.

“Doctor Child Care is waiting for you,” said the last one.

“Thank you,” replied Presage.

As if that was their last cue, the bicorn mare stopped before a door, not even reading the name written on it before pushing it open.

There, one doctor consulted a file, a quill floating just above the papers in a cloud of green magic.

The unicorn mare smiled at the small troop.

“Now, I had an appointment for a beautiful young mare called Good Faith.” She turned to the positively giddy teenager. “I’m guessing that’s you.”

“Like we haven’t done this every single time, Doctor Child Care!” Faith protested, a large grin on her face. “Come on, now, I can’t wait. I want to start filing in the forms.”

“Alright, alright.” The doctor raised a hoof to pacify the teenager. “Now, before we start, this is important. Do you wish for anypony here to leave? And I do mean, anypony. This is your medical care, nopony else’s. You have the final say here.”

Suddenly timid, the teenager played with a loose strand of her mane, blushing. “No, no. It’s fine. Except maybe for the… you know… maybe just Mom for that part?”

Presage squeezed her hoof. Mother and daughter exchanged a look heavy with meaning, and a small smile.

“That’s perfectly alright, Good Faith. You’re within your full rights here.” The mare picked up a clipboard. “Let’s start. Everypony else, please sit down.”

The exam, as it turned out, was a fairly standard thing. For the most part, the doctor asked questions about Good Faith’s health and feelings, noting down whatever was said and continuing to fill in the checklist.

“Any discomfort lately? Trouble sleeping?”

Faith chuckled. “Well, I could not sleep yesterday knowing what was coming for today. Does that count?”

The doctor stared at her with a knowing smile, good-humoured. “Let’s put this down as a ‘no’ for now. Anything of note? How did your last estrus go?”

Blushes lit up Faith’s, Twilight’s and Pierre’s faces alike. For once, the teenager couldn’t quite answer with her usual enthusiasm. In particular, her gaze darted to Pierre and Edward, and she ducked her head slightly. “Huh, well, y’know, the normal stuff.”

“Alright. If you’ll follow me in the sideroom, Good Faith, we’ll finish the examination. Your mother may come in, the rest of you wait here.”

Edward was fairly certain that even if they had been authorized, nopony would have wanted to. That last question had felt especially intrusive. He truly hope that this was merely a slip-up. The menstrual habits of starry-eyed teens were far from his list of things he needed to know.

“This must be the physical examination,” said Twilight, humming falsely like she needed to fill in the silence at any cost. “It’s very standard procedure.”

Edward saw Pierre’s lips pinch. Oh yes, the Frenchie had definitely kept a bad memory of the standard procedure. He privately suspected that the doctors had taken revenge where they could for them being difficult patients.

“You know, I’ve read somewhere that the Unluck Horn could have a basis similar to Horn Rot. Historians say Horn Rot already was somewhat spread before the Discordian era, so it’s possible.”

“But the symptoms are different enough that most biologists reject that theory. Of course, that is without taking into consideration the Mana Quality, though it fails to explain the wild power surge for Horn Rot.”

Twilight’s jaw fell. “W-where did you learn that?”

Edward smirked.

“Anyway!” Twilight composed herself. “If Mana Quality is taken into consideration, it does explain the difference. Bicorns’ magic is very distinct, and its degenerative symptoms would have to be different from regular unicorn magic.”

He was saved from coming up with a reply by the chime of the door to the doctor’s office. In, entered the doctor, Faith and her mother.

“Thank you all for your patience. This was the last test.” Doctor Child Care rummaged through her files. “Yep, the very last. Now, I need to take some time to analyze all the data and complete the blood tests. Normally, the results will be available by sundown, so you may all leave and return by that time.”

Faith opened her mouth.

“And no, you can’t come around noon and decide that’s enough time for those tests to be finished,” the doctor warned with an indulgent smile. “The analysis takes at least six hours. And I need to interpret the results afterward. Now go, get some fresh air, stretch your legs. I don’t want to see you until sunset.”

“See you at sunset then!”

“Thank you for receiving us, Doctor Child Care. It was very informative.”

“Please, Princess Twilight, it was an honour to receive you all.”

They left after that. It couldn’t have happened any sooner, from Ed’s perspective. What had Twilight hoped to accomplish with this? Seeing a silly girl answer questions and await eagerly for her right to breed had certainly not convinced them to put out. At least, they were out now, regrouped just a few meters away from the hospital’s doors.

With a kiss to the forehead, Presage sent her daughter on her way, watching fondly as the teenager hummed and skipped to school. For a few seconds, the mare forgot about the presence of the princess and her guests, an unguarded smile on her face.

“Well, now that Faith has had her appointment, I do need to go to the market. I suppose I shall see you all at dinner tonight?” She glanced at Twilight and her notebook, then seemed to think better of it. “Unless you wish to accompany me to the marketplace?”

Twilight opened her mouth, but Edward cut in before she could speak.

“I am going to the library,” he said, eerily polite. “I want to know what entertainment exists for someone like us. The expression is ‘Bread and Circus’, oh dictator-in-training. I’ve seen the bread, now I want the circus. Gotta have some motivation not to kill myself.”

Presage and Pierre both cringed at his words. The rest of the escort did not look amused.

“Edward, do not joke about this,” Twilight commanded, her tone as cold as a glacier. “This is a very serious issue. And no, you may not go to the library. You two need to see the school, that’s the next box on our checklist.”

There were many things to say to that, but Pierre exchanged a look with him. He seemed to understand rather quickly. For once.

“I’ll go to the school, he can visit the library. Cover more ground this way. Not like we lack the people to do both.” Pierre shrugged. “It’ll be more efficient.”

Edward very firmly hid his amusement as he watched Pierre’s word sink in Twilight’s mind. Her ears ticked, and she shot a desperate glance to her checklist. It must have been written down there somewhere. Knowing it must have made the decision all the harder. Would she give in to her natural instinct or would her need to control their thoughts prevail?

“Let me rephrase,” Pierre said with a smug smirk, “do you want to force foals to be stuck with Edward?”

Normally, he would be offended by Twilight’s flinch, but he couldn’t truly deny it. He had never tried to pretend otherwise either. Kids were a plague unto his house, and the house of anyone that had not been smart enough to have protection.

And nopony seemed to notice the subtle frown appearing on Presage’s face.

“On second thought, I’ll stay with Pierre and go to the school. Private Span, Corporal Chainmail, you are with me. Sergeant Steel, Corporal Belfry, with Edward. I’ll be the one to fetch you when we’re done.”

Huh. So the Frenchie was learning something after all. Interesting.

--

Pierre fought the impression of déjàvu of being in such a hallway, trotting on carpeted floor, passing by lockers and doors, and under the mercy of an authority figure that had decided he was the bane of their existence.

Granted, while his previous directors had also threatened him with a lifetime of unemployment, they hadn’t actually meant it as a lifegoal. Nor had they obliquely decided he would best serve society as a breeding stud.

So, certain things were different, but the school itself? Yeah, that resembled his high school years. With much younger students though.

He paused, peeking through the door’s window. Before a large blackboard, a beige unicorn mare read from a book within her telekinetic grasp. The foals, most looking no older than ten, pretended to be listening. Even from where he stood, Pierre could see at least three foals playing or drawing in their notebooks instead of paying attention.

Ah, maths, the ban of small children everywhere. And judging by the numbers on the board…

Pierre did a double take.

He turned to Twilight. “Budgeting? At their age?”

“What’s so unusual about that?” she asked absentmindedly, consulting her notes. “It’ll be a vital skill to learn later.”

“Certainly a useful skill to have, but I was still learning multiplications when I was that little.”

“So you did go to school?” Twilight said with some surprise.

Hot air blew out of his nostrils. “Yes. I did.” Images of cups of coffee littering the unoccupied side of his desk flashed to his mind. The feeling of weight on his mind, on his eyelids, the frantic muttering while he paced with a book in hand. “Back home, in France. University. I was doing my master before getting tangled in this mess.”

“University is too stressful for bicorns.”

As if that proved anything. For the first time perhaps, he regretted his choice of masters. He’d been told before. She wasn’t the first to question his knowledge. Those, he had gotten the habit of shutting up with well-placed references and lectures on Ancient History.

But knowing the history of a different world might as well have been fiction.

It didn’t make slapping her around less tempting though.

“Oh, just shut up.” He rolled his eyes in disgust. “I haven’t slaved for years to be told it didn’t happen.”

Little twitches ran over her wings, and Twilight raised a hoof against her chest. After one deep inhale, she let it all out, in the exact motion he remembered Cadence teaching her. Her mouth moved silently, as if she was telling herself something, likely to remain calm or to ignore him.

“Classroom six. We’re here.”

The latter then.

Pierre frowned. “Dare I ask what we’re ‘here’ for? I thought this was a visit of the school facility.”

“As it so happens, there is one class on the school’s program being taught today that I think you would benefit from hearing.”

Pierre’s eyes narrowed. Surprise enrollment, huh? Well, it wasn’t anything new or all that unexpected, though he couldn’t say he understood her game. He honestly doubted there was much time in a single morning, heck, even a single day, to change his mind about anything in the reserve.

Unaware or uncaring of his thoughts, Twilight gently knocked on the door, wincing as she did, and with a flicker of magic, twisted the doorknob.

“Miss Hard Knocks?” she asked very politely.

She tiptoed around the threshold, almost timid all of a sudden. To Pierre and the guards, the sight had something of a surreal quality. Not that the teacher noticed.

“Oh, my, good morning, your Highness!” The pink mare bowed.

Twilight’s sigh of relief was perfectly audible to Pierre’s ears. “Good morning, Miss Hard Knocks.” She stepped inside, practically being led by the teacher whose smile had not stopped growing. “Good morning, everypony.”

“Good morning!” answered twenty foals at the exact same time.

“Now, foals, this is Princess Twilight Sparkle. We talked about her visit yesterday. Remember what we said about questions, alright?”

Most of them nodded, though a handful pouted at the same time. Obviously, the talk hadn’t been all positives. And judging by how starry-eyed the three fillies in the front row had gotten, he could guess why.

“Perhaps you would like to introduce yourself?” the teacher said, taking a step back.

Twilight’s warning glare was crystal clear. Pierre felt rather insulted by that. He might admit that it was tempting to see the chaos, but he didn’t have the heart.

If he was Edward and cared not for the continued emotional health of schoolchildren…

“Hello everyone. My name is Pierre Delarue. I am French, which means I was not born in Equestria. And because of that, Princess Twilight has graciously offered to teach me the errors of my way. I am still single, despite the fact that I am, le gasp, over twenty.”

He expected a few reactions.

“Are you ungrateful like my grandpa says?” was not one of them.

Pierre held a hoof before Hard Knocks. The mare’s mouth closed, though her eyes questioned his motives. Like it mattered. He offered the filly a gentle smile and tilted his head. “And what does your grandpa mean when he says ‘ungrateful’?”

“Grandpa says that bicorns that aren’t married young are just meanies that take without ever giving stuff in return. Says it’s ungrateful.”

“And what does he say when bicorns don’t want to be given stuff?”

The filly’s muzzle scrunched up. “I dunno… he never talks about that.”

“Well,” Hard Knocks half-shouted, “I think that’s enough! Your Highness, if you, your guards and our guest want to take a seat, we’ve saved up some at the back.”

They obediently made their ways through the rows of desks, the majority of the awe directed solely at Twilight and the crown on her head. It was refreshing to be less than the center of attention in a room for once. Obvious too, considering those foals were all bicorns. So, he took a seat next to an excited Twilight and a curious Attention Span, thinking that this part of the day would likely be boring but harmless.

At the sight of the words written on the blackboard, Pierre felt a stone sink in his stomach.

‘ETHICS AND MORALS’

Oh, of course Twilight thought this was the kind of classes they needed. Thank fuck Edward had wormed himself out of this. The foals and the teacher would have never survived the explosion.

He already wanted out, and it hadn’t even started yet. In the corner of his eyes, he thought he could see Chainmail snort.

“Now,” Hard Knocks called out with a strong clear voice, “since we seemed to have already breached today’s subject, I believe we will start by addressing what Abundance’s grandfather has been telling her.”

The filly shrunk in her seat, obviously embarrassed to be put on the spot like that. One of the foals in the back row ducked his head to hide his snickering.

Pierre’s brow rose. What kind of teaching method was that?

“Remember, foals, the way you contribute to the survival of your tribe is up to you. If anypony of you wants to go to a donation center instead, it is perfectly alright.” A frown made her way to the teacher’s face. “I will not hear anymore of this ‘ungrateful’ nonsense. The option was given to all ponies, and raising foals of your own should be your choice.”

Pierre suddenly regretted not having a projectile to throw at the mare’s head. How could she even tell them they had choice with a straight face?

“For some ponies, living in a herd is simply not an option. Perhaps there aren’t any compatible bicorns in the reserves, perhaps they… have certain tastes. Perhaps they want to live alone. The important thing is that bicorns that go to donation centers contribute to the survival of the species.”

Pierre had not known it was possible for hooves to clench like fist before. On his left, Twilight was listening to Hard Knocks’ speech, enraptured. At the front, Hard Knocks seemed more at ease, her eyes darting back to them in the back.

“Now, foals, can anypony of you mention a bicorn they know that goes to donation centers instead of being in a herd? Anypony? ...Temperance?”

A little blue filly shrunk in her seat at being named. Her thoughtful, scrunched up muzzle made her appear even more precious, in Pierre’s opinion. In a typical student fashion, she wracked her brain for answers, helped by her own hoof rubbing the side of her head.

“Huhhh… Social Swinger?”

The name obviously meant something to both Hard Knocks and Twilight, as they nodded simultaneously.

“Of course,” the teacher said with an indulgent smile. “Everypony knows Social Swinger. He is a pioneer in the cause of donation centers across Equestria. But I meant somepony close to you. Anypony in your family?”

The filly stayed silent for a good minute, before shaking her head and sinking further in her seat.

“That’s okay, Temperance. If you don’t, then you don’t and that’s not a problem. Anypony else?”

This time, a red hoof shot up, and a coltish voice rang out. “My uncle. He said something about his stallion friend staying home, but I didn’t really get it.”

Hard Knock’s tail flicked. “Very good, Signs.” Her smile looked more pained than anything else. “Anypony else? Anypony at all?”

Encouraged by the broken ice, another spoke up. “My sister. She says it’s stupid that she even has to do it at all.”

Shouts immediately erupted all over the classroom. The filly who had spoken found herself bombarded by confused or angry words by the rest of her classmates. It did not take long for her to start shouting back.

Hard Knocks spent an instant completely frozen, hardly even blinking. Then, red rushed to her face, and she entered the melee, trying to be heard on top of all the other high pitched voice screaming.

Pierre shot an unimpressed look to Twilight, wordlessly pointing at the chaos in the classroom. If that were her plan to impress him into the greatness and necessity of the current system, then she’d grossly miscalculated. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Bronze looking annoyed and privately agreeing with Pierre’s thoughts.

To her credit, Twilight appeared rather embarrassed by the foals’ outburst.

And that was to say nothing of the despair etched on Hard Knocks’ face. Oh, the mare knew she had lost a perfectly good opportunity to look good in front of royalty. She would regret asking that question for the rest of her career, he wagered.

“Right,” Twilight said as the foals quieted down, “I believe we will take our leaves.”

Pierre immediately stood.

When he was in the doorframe, he paused and looked back. “Ah, ma’am, a quick question before I leave.”

“Yes!?” she said, too quick and eager to hide her desperation.

“Do you have foals?”

A moment’s pause followed. “This is a bit of a personal question, but yes, I do have one colt. His name is Grandeur,” she said with a smile.

Pierre smiled back. “Just one?”

The mare blinked. “Yes? Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Bronze snorted. Not loud enough to be noticed by Twilight, but the guard was right behind Pierre. He was the one to close the door, and the best placed to see some foals raising their hooves in the air.

A few questions could be heard, muffled from the closed classroom door.

Well, there was hope yet.

--

He had been mentally bracing himself for a disaster. He hadn’t been hoping for one, but Edward was too much of a realist not to anticipate his trip to the library dashing his more optimistic predictions. The outside of the library had seemed fairly innocuous, perhaps even innocent, what’s with the simple stone and marble structure, all greek columns and slanted roof. At the very least, it was distinct from every other brown-roof houses.

But stepping inside… it meant crossing the threshold into a three stories high room lit only by the flames of candles, bathing them in a mixture of darkness and warm orange light. It meant taking his first breath in, and smelling the dust and the ink together.

This meant little. He already knew that. Books were nothing more than their contents. He had long since learned not to judge them by their covers.

But.

It was like…

Home.

Edward trotted down the stairs to get to the ground level, looking around with careful consideration. He could see section names, most familiar like ‘biography’, ‘history’, or ‘fiction’. On the other side of the room, through a hallway of full-capacity shelves, a librarian’s booth awaited them.

Many old instincts surged through him. He could hardly help himself. With a small skip to his steps, he trotted up to a worktable and perused through the first open book he saw. Sketches of strange, twisted flowers occupied the top of every other pages. A botanical guide then.

This… this really seemed like it was a proper library. He knew that it couldn’t possibly be true, but for a split second, he just let the idea sink.

And he realized only a few moments too late that he had been grinning a good honest smile in front of his captors.

Surprisingly, neither thestrals commented on it. Really, the cutting remark already on his tongue was going to waste. A glance back revealed the reason for it.

Belfry hadn’t even gotten down the stairs yet. She had taken to staring agape at the wondrous sight of this library, a sense of wonder and jealousy sparkling in her gaze.

“Do close your mouth, batsie,” Ed drawled, “you will swallow bugs if you keep it up.”

He was ready to let it die down after that.

Belfry, on the other hoof… “Was that a tribalist jab?” she said, voice far too soft to be sincere.

“No, it’s a compliment.” He rolled his eyes, then went back to reading the titles on the books’ covers. “Do I sound like someone with whatever version of racism you ponies have?

“You just used ‘you ponies’ unironically.”

He grinned. “I’ve also once said that I admired Pierre’s intelligence.”

The shout was instantaneous, and vaguely indignant.

“Horseapples!”

Edward turned a sardonic smile back to the bat mare. “Well, if you know me so well, why are you wasting your breath with this questioning?”

Belfry’s lips thinned. Her gaze was two burning ambers, near shining in the candlelight, and there was a promise to make him eat those words cold. Best revenge and all. “Luna’s teats! I really am wasting my breath.”

“Glad to see you are not at all slow on the uptake,” he commented, pulling out a thick volume called The Disasters of the Golden Era from the shelves. Half leaning against the table, he opened it up at a random page. “And you are the elite? Watching over me and assuring my security.”

“Wow, you know, you’re really making me question my skills here. Maybe you’re right. I ought to stop being a guard and turn my skills to evading capture.” Belfry cracked her neck, rolled her shoulders. “Which will be needed, once I have finished pounding you into the ground.”

Loud throat-clearing cough made her flinch. And the look on Tempered Steel’s face made her go white. If his usual demeanor suggested a statue, a gargoyle watching down on the city he meant to protect, the scowl he was wearing hinted that even a mountain might start moving.

Belfry’s hoof snapped to the side of her head, in a very formal and stiff salute that Edward could hardly blame her for. “Sir! Apologies, Sir!”

Even the flames on the candle seemed to be holding their breath, almost still, and their lights dim.

Well, he wasn’t going to be able to work like this, now was he? “Since we’ve established that you are prickly about yet one more thing, are you gonna tell me about your tragic backstory now?”

Whatever tension existed evaporated, though small beads of sweat still pearled on Belfry’s fur.

“Oh, just go get bucked.” She groaned and facehoofed. “Sergeant, listen to this! It’s like talking to Blueblood once he gets shitfaced.”

“Prickly.” He popped the word out like a piece of candy. Teasing. Mocking, but with little of the cold and scorn he aimed at others. “You’re always complaining that bicorns have it too good. So, what’s this new deal with books? Thestrals don’t learn how to read? No, wait, that ‘depends on the neighborhood’, correct?”

Belfry’s wings tensed and relaxed in quick succession, her gaze lingering over the darkness of the roof. Edward wouldn’t put it past her to fly up there and hang upside down like a real bat.

A long sigh. “This… this is a public library.”

“Your powers of observations have vastly improved in the last thirty seconds, I see.”

“No, you goathead, I’ve been in public libraries before! It’s just…” The mare looked down at her shaking hoof, a snarl of frustration on her face. “They’re much shadier than this. This reminds me more of...”

“The Archives,” completed the deep voice of Tempered Steel. “Smaller, but it’s very similar.”

“Equestria’s national library, right?” Edward glanced at his surroundings again. Someplace like this, bigger, so much bigger. The brief glimpse he had gotten in the show being just that, a glimpse. “I think I would like to see it one day. But I suppose this will be unlikely.”

Steel raised one sceptical eyebrow. “Indeed. Restricted readings would be easily found in such a place. You’d need a strict chaperone.”

“Stricter than four of you?”

“They would have to be a librarian, and herd you away from anything illicit.”

Edward’s hoof tightened against the cover of his book. “Why, this world is full of interesting concepts, isn’t it? A librarian that prevents people from reading.”

Belfry sighed. “Right, whatever, it’s not going to happen anyway. Let’s just get this over with. What are you looking for, exactly?”

“To start with?” Edward cast a curious glance upon the rows of books. “A catalogue would be nice. I’ve got lots of work ahead of me.”

--

Red may have tainted the sky, but the sunlight had long since stopped shining onto the reserve. The sun had disappeared behind the high walls, and that, Pierre had realized, had been Twilight’s signal to go back to Edward and the night guards.

They could manage, Span and Chainmail confirmed. Good Faith and her mother had come meet them at the entrance of the school with Starry Eyes. Whilst the purple mare had taken the chattering bunch of foals back with her, Presage had restrained Faith so she wouldn’t leave them all behind. Sunset! That was the time Doctor Child Care had told them!

Presage had reacted by rolling her eyes, chuckling and teasing her daughter about her growing enthusiasm.

But as they had grown closer to the hospital, Presage had grown silent. Little ticks had begun to appear in her mannerism, twitches of her ears and flicks of her tail. Her daughter, her mind in her daydreams of prince charming, failed to notice.

Pierre hadn’t. Chainmail and Span hadn’t.

A cold hand tugged at his guts at the sight of the building itself. Briefly, Pierre paused. His legs locked into places, and he felt Presage’s gaze burning on his skin. They… they shouldn’t get in that hospital. Something bad was going to happen, he knew it. And, on the verge of a warning, he saw Presage turn his way.

The same fear reflected back in her eyes.

Faith blissfully trotted up to the door, not even pausing as the doors opened and a chime rang in the air.

Don’t let her get in, he heard himself think. Which was absurd. Really, what was going to happen inside an hospital in the middle of a reserve full of people thinking harming her species as blasphemy?

Presage ran inside. He bolted after them both, and all four of them barrelled into the entrance as if they someone had been grievously injured.

Faith turned around, still blissfully smiling, still radiant. Even the note of concern in her voice couldn’t break the image. “Mom?”

“You...” Presage stumbled on her words. “I… Sorry, you just left us both in the dust outside.”

Giggling.

“Oops. My bad, Mom. I didn’t even notice. I just… it’s happening. It’s finally happening!”

It’s finally happening, Pierre repeated in thoughts. He took a step back, though nopony noticed. Presage merely buried her head against her daughter’s shoulder. Hiding her face. Just enough time that she looked perfectly happy and excited, and they could get to the second floor. It’s finally happening.

It did.

“I’m sorry,” began Doctor Child Care with a solemn expression, looking at Presage, looking anywhere but at Good Faith. “Your daughter is a carrier for the Unluck Horn. We’ve found traces in her blood.”

They were sitting, but it still felt as if they’d fallen down.

“What?” Faith croaked.

Still falling. Clinging to one another whilst the cold whipped at them. Screaming, at the top of their lungs, knowing that it would end, that everything would end.

“Doctor, are y--?”

She did not let Presage finish. She cut right through, as if she were wielding a scalpel. “I am afraid this means that she is ineligible for the program.”

The dread had given way to panic. He wanted to run. To flee, to gallop away and hide away, and not look as the horror wormed itself into that silly teenager’s eyes.

“No.” He could barely hear her. She was leaning against him and her mother, and he could barely hear her.

The doctor looked down.

“No, no, no. It… that’s not true. You’re joking, right?” An hysterical laugh rose from her throat. “Please… please, tell me it’s a joke! I can’t… I can’t have foals?!”

“It would be irresponsible to have foals knowing you would transmit the disease to them. I understand that this is hard to hear.” – You understand nothing, you fat cow! – “But you cannot be part of the breeding program. It would damage your species’ viability in the long run.”

Presage grabbed unto her. “Doctor, there must be some sort of mistake.”

Yes, thought Pierre. Some files might have been misplaced. A test tube swapped with another by accident. There had to be something, anything, to save the filly crumbling against him. In that moment, it did not matter that he despised everything about this whole joke of a system. Faith didn’t deserve to have her most sincere wish destroyed.

“Presage, there is no mistake.” Doctor Child Care’s face was slowly turning ashen. “Believe me. I triple-checked. Good Faith is a carrier. She’ll be unlikely to develop the more severe symptoms, but the breeding program refuses anypony that could spoil it.”

Faith pulled away from him. She spoke, but with a quiet, broken voice. “W-what am I going to do?”

“I’m sorry, Faith. I truly am.” To her credit, Pierre believed her. But for the good it did, it wasn’t much. She knew how little her words mattered. It was written all over her face. She’d done it before. “There is nothing I can do for you, except fill in a request for the general treatment.”

Faith sobbed.

“Sweetheart, we’ll talk to your father and your aunts. We’ll think of something, I promise.”

--

As he had every other time the doors of the library opened and let filter inside natural light, Edward looked up from his copy of Equestrian Tribes Explained: Volume IV. The bat on the cover seemed to flap its wings as he shut it close and placed it down on the table.

The newcomer had a very distinct lavender coat, and even if the frame of sunlight obscured her wings, so few ponies around had a single horn in this ‘town’. Twilight took a moment to contemplate the library’s interior, clearly regretting not having come earlier. A minute shake of her head later, she was making her way down to the ground level.

She found him surrounded by the adult equivalent of a book fort, spread across the worktable and around Belfry and Steel.

“Well, Edward, you’ve had it your way. A full day in the library, but now you’re coming back with me. We will be preparing for dinner at Chief Cloven Print’s. I hope this was fruitful, at least?”

“Of course,” he said, stretching as he stood, “I made several fascinating discoveries. I would say that was a day well-spent.”

Twilight’s expression turned cautious. “Fascinating? Do I want to hear what you consider fascinating?”

“Groundbreaking, perhaps?” He shrugged, but it came out forced. “Honestly, this Equestria is teaching me much about the great questions. Did you know? Suicide is the ultimate philosophical question. If you answer it, you can understand what the value of life is to a person. What is so unbearable that life is not worth living anymore?”

One might have as well extinguished every candle in the room and created a blizzard inside the library. Then, perhaps the physical temperature would match the heavy silence that followed, perhaps it would feel like the sickening anticipation wracking at their nerves.

“It’s illness, Edward,” Twilight breathed, so insistent he could hear the words echoed back to her. “Mental illness, emotional imbalance. Each time, it’s a tragedy. Not a… not a number in a scientific study!”

“I happen to disagree. It really tells quite a lot about bicorn nature, I would argue. For example, did you know that there was a distinct spike in suicides after the Law of Low Stress Management?”

Belfry took a step forward, a troubled look in her eyes. “You didn’t say anything about that when you asked for it.”

“Well, it wasn’t what I had been looking for. I simply happened to notice.” And with an unkindness to his tone, he added, “I bothered to look. And surprise, surprise, going by the registry, a good seventy percent of the dead had been marked as blank flanks.”

This time, he noticed them all pale.

What had been Clairvoyance’s opinion on the matter? Ah, yes, it used to be rare, but nowadays, the majority never found their true calling. Edward, still showing teeth in the least friendly manner possible, subtly hinted at his own bare flanks.

Twilight Sparkle’s nostrils flared, her glare making their escort flinch. “What are you threatening here, Edward?”

Ed snorted. “Aye, your mind would jump to that. I tell you a fact, and you think it’s a threat. Truth scares you, doesn’t it? It is no threat, Princess. I’m simply telling you what your dogmatic mind refuses to acknowledge. Bicorns are not happy!”

“Yes, they are.” Twilight’s left wing extended toward the library’s doors. “Just look outside. Bicorns are going about their lives, and most of them are happy, without a worry in their lives.”

Ed threw his head back and laughed. Not much else to do in the face of such blatant denial. He was almost tempted to ask her if she remembered how she had gotten her wings. But no, those were the wrong words. There was always a limit to her patience, and every iteration of these arguments cut the fuse shorter.

“Really? Well, you are a librarian, aren’t you?” He pushed an open book across the table. “Here’s a list of genres I found. Notice anything funny about it?”

“Nothing’s strange about it,” Twilight said after a quick glance. “Those are all genres you could be expected to find in any public library.”

Edward’s glare filled with disdain. “Oh, really? Nothing wrong? Which ones are missing?”

Behind Twilight, both Belfry and Steel exchanged curious, cautious glances. Their silent communication however went unnoticed by the alicorn princess closing her eyes as if she was long suffering. With a strong sigh, Twilight looked back to Edward.

“Horror. I mean, it’s rather obvious. Those stories are designed to create stressful emotions and anxiety. I thought you knew this already.”

“I said ‘which ones’. Plural, lass. There’s another one.” His smirk grew sharp. “I’m curious to hear how you justify keeping that off the shelves.”

Belfry and Steel did their very best to appear uninvested.

Twilight’s eyes glided over the list again. The moment of realization crystallized on her face, her breath hitching, her magic wrinkling the scroll.

“Romance.”

“I don’t get it,” Belfry said. Sneered would be a more appropriate word. “What’s the big deal with letting bicorns read about smooching or bucking? It’s more or less everything they do.”

Twilight didn’t elaborate. Her eyes remained fixed on the list, as if she could disintegrate it from the sheer intensity of her glare. At the edges of her magical aura, sparks sizzled, going on wild tangents before fading out in the air.

“Because,” Ed drawled, “what pony would accept this sham of a romantic life when they read about the things other ponies dream about, right? Can’t let the bicorns have ideas, can we? Imagine if they dreamed of, shocker, actual romance. How many would be pleased to be matched to genetically compatible bicorns then?”

“And then what? Just make sure they all sigh wistfully into the night, wondering why they can’t live a life like a romance novel? We can’t let bicorns go extinct! How-” Her voice broke. “How could we let a tribe of ponies disappear without doing everything we can!?”

“There would be less bicorns being born, but there wouldn’t be less ponies.”

“We’re trying to save bicorns!”

“That’s your problem! Right here and now, you think of bicorns and ponies as different things! They’re some kind of subspecies, some inferior, second-rate imitations of ponies!”

“I… I don’t!” Twilight shot back, her voice pained. “Edward, I swear I am not!”

“Then why are we here?!”

Twilight gaped.

“Just… ” He gestured wildly, to the books, to the two guards in the background, to his horns. “Just tell me. How can you think of bicorns as ponies and still do what you do to them?”

“It’s… it is needed.”

“Not letting bicorns even dream of something else is needed? Why? Because then they might start to protest what is being done to them? Because if they do, then your conscience won’t be clear anymore?”

“Princess Celestia… It’d be cruel, Edward. The herd is more important than the pony. If they don’t want to be matched, they can go to the centers.”

“Ah, yes, the centers,” Ed said with a sweet voice that got both guards to shiver. “Plan B, as I’ve started calling it. Have you ever tried matching up the dates of the first center being opened with other events? As a game, per say.”

Tempered Steel could not have been more still if he had tried. Belfry’s eyes darted to him, the thought the same as the one crossing Edward’s mind. Steel had been the one to look through old archives of newspaper clips.

His gaze went to the folded folios on the table. For a solid few seconds, the sergeant seemed unsure. Yet the hesitation passed. He closed his eyes, inhaled, then reappeared as stoic and serious as ever.

The guard did not react outwardly to Edward’s frown. He could imagine the kind of words the bicorn wanted to throw his way. Except Edward wasn’t actually looking at him.

“Edward?” Belfry asked slowly. “Edward, are you okay?”

The thoughtful frown on his face deepened. His hoof clenched around something -- flesh, fur. His pulse throbbed in his veins, slowly turning them into this boiling, electrifying mess.

“Edward.” Leather waved before his face. “Edward. Do you hear me? Do you need a doctor?”

“No. I don’t need one.”

--

The feeling of dread hadn’t receded. It gripped at his throat, like he was going to throw up at any moment, like every breath would be shallower than the last. He paced, back and forth, trying not to hear any of the hushed words hissed between Faith’s parents. He had no right to it.

That left him alone downstairs with a sleeping Clairvoyance in her rocking chair. He could scarcely imagine how terrible her reaction would be to this development. Maybe she’d take a page out of their books and cuss up a storm. He certainly had let loose a few choice words.

Of all the ponies to have it. Hadn’t he feared that very same outcome when he had learned of the numbers? One in five? Well, that was the first, Fortune’s little sister. And the one that had actually wanted this life too.

And now, a broken filly with nothing ahead of her.

When he noticed her parents coming out of the dining room, the words came out on their own. “How is she?”

“She… she… ” Presage couldn’t go further, collapsing into tears. Starry Eyes caught up just in time, but the purple mare didn’t seem to fare much better.

“She is taking it extremely hard,” Omens said, her fury completely transparent. Her hooves twitched, and he would bet that had her anger found a recipient, it would be trampled. “She had been looking forward to this. She has no idea what to do. She’s lost.”

Her husband ran a soothing hoof over her shoulder. “Faith will recover. She just needs some time. Rethink a few things.”

“RETHINK?!” Omens tossed his hoof aside. “It’s not just a silly side project! It was her whole life!”

“I know that!” Evocator shouted back. “But what are we supposed to do?! What is she meant to do now?! She can’t even look at you or at me! She wouldn’t hear anything we said!”

Tears shone in both their eyes. That did not make them any more quiet. The dam had shattered, and now both of them were yelling, their words completely indistinct one over the other.

All Pierre could think of was the fact Good Faith hadn’t been able to look at her parents. Right. Right! Nothing probably hurt her more than seeing her pregnant mother after getting this kind of news. She would want to be alone, at least a little bit. It wasn’t… it wasn’t that surprising.

Wait.

The feeling of dread hadn’t receded.

He forced himself to be calm.

“Where is she?”

Evocator frowned. “The kitchen. She said she wanted to make something. Alone.” Doubt, a nagging feeling, seeped in as his own words registered. “She didn’t say what.”

His whole body feeling like lead, Pierre trotted up to the kitchen’s door. He felt the insistent stares of Faith’s parents burn against the back of his skull. Their hoofsteps started getting closer. He pressed his ear against the door.

He couldn’t hear a thing.

His voice sounded distant to his own ears. “Are you sure she’s in there?”

Presage’s hoof rasped against the door.

“Faith? Sweetheart, can we come in?” The calmness of her voice contradicted the hints of worry in her traits.

She had felt it too. Before the hospital.

Young teenager found dead after his sixteenth birthday!

Dull pain spread through his forehead. He hadn’t realized he had heabutted the door. Which remained solid, too solid, an obstacle between him and Faith.

“Open the door,” he told her parents, and, at their baffled look, yelled, “Didn’t you hear me?! Open the door, right now!”

It was as if the sound had broken a trance. Good Omens and Evocator blinked, and paled and rushed at Pierre’s side. Together, they reared, and their heads slammed into the door, throwing it off its hinges.

She was in there. On the floor.

Red pooled under her wrists.

Their voices merged into an unholy shout, a sound of horror, and terror and heartbreak.

“FAITH!”

Good Omens charged with speed he’d never expect to see from a heavily pregnant mare. She had reached Faith before he could even think of moving.

“Presage! Get the medkit! Now! Evocator, help me put pressure on her injuries!”

Heat drilled into Pierre’s head, right at the base of his horns. It made his sight blurry, everypony broken down into splotches of colours and distorted shouts. Out. He shook, and before he could comprehend it, he was moving toward the door.

His sight cleared just as he bumped into somepony’s shoulder.

“What’s going on?” asked a panicked, familiar voice. “Pierre? We heard the screa- Sweet Celestia, Faith!”

No. She shouldn’t see that.

“Fortune, take your siblings--” one pony said firmly.

“No, no, no, I can’t. Mom, Faith. I have to stay, she’s, she’s--”

“You.” Omens threw a wooden spoon right at his head. “Get her out of here, and make sure she stays out!”

He barely even felt the hit. He just saw himself put a hoof around her shoulder and drag her away. It wasn’t hard. She hadn’t realized what he was doing until he actually pulled and by then, she had to follow to stay standing.

It was only when Pierre closed the door -- tried to keep it on its broken hinges -- that Fortune reacted.

The foals blinked and stared at the sight of their eldest sister fighting against the one they thought would be her husband.

“Pierre, let me go through. Pierre!”

Whispering, praying that the little ones hadn’t seen : “She’s going to be alright.”

“I have to be there!” Tears splashed against his fur. “I have to be with her!”

“Your parents are taking care of her.” Air rushed out of him, quick words, trembling as his hooves whilst he tried to turn her around. “Your siblings. The little ones, Fortune. Ace is right there. Don’t panic. It’s okay. She’ll be okay. Tarot is looking at you. Faith’s gonna be fine.”

He didn’t even know who he said it for.

“What’s going on?” asked a small pink filly whose name Pierre couldn’t even remember. “Fortune? Why are you crying?”

Ace stared at his eldest sister.

“Faith… she was on the floor.”

Such innocent words. Kinder words. On the floor. A child’s words. Fortune choked up at them. Her little sister, splayed on the kitchen’s tiles, with a knife, and blood and… Celestia, he couldn’t faint. Not here. He’d never forgive himself.

His face was solemn as he gently gathered Fortune’s little sibling out of view of the kitchen and dragged them to their bedroom. ‘Just wait here,’ ‘it’s not going to be long’, ‘I’ll come back in a minute’. The bare minimum. It was already lucky he could think of that much. When he returned downstairs, Fortune was waiting in the livingroom, sitting on one of the cushions, her gaze blank and fixed upon the kitchen’s door.

“Fortune...”

She whirled about and grabbed his shoulders in a grip so tight it immediately became painful. “What’s going on?! Why…” The grip loosened. “Why was Faith…?”

“The test. We got bad news. She’s out of the program.”

Fortune’s eyes widened to the size of plates, red and wet with more tears. “She’s… she’s sick?”

That’s when the front door slammed open on Edward’s group. And two medics.

--

Some other time, he would have laughed at the look on Twilight’s face. Her day had been one moment of dismay after the other, it would seem. That checklist must have felt like it was taunting her. They had cleared half of it, or so the marking would have him believed.

Pierre doubted she would call it a fruitful venture at this point.

He was torn between gratitude and disgust. The medics had stabilized Faith quickly enough that they didn’t fear for her life. But what was that knowledge when he had to stand there, next to Fortune and Ace, both weeping, clinging, unable to look away from their sister on the bed?

She… she was pale. Paler than he thought she could be with such a vibrant coat. But Faith lied there, bandages on her forelegs, fluids dripping down into her IV. She looked small.

Young. Still a child. She reached his muzzle, and he wasn’t that tall of a stallion.

What was she doing in a hospital bed fighting for her life? He’d heard her bicker with Fortune through the bedroom wall just the day before. He’d heard her laugh.

Young teenager found dead after his sixteenth birthday.

The door didn’t creak open. No, magic shimmered around the doorknob and the hinges. As a courtesy perhaps. Little could be done about the sound of hoofsteps or flapping wings.

No member of Faith’s family looked up. Faith’s doctor had been an earth pony after all.

Pierre on the other hoof did turn. He slid in Fortune’s and Ace’s loosened grip, neither of them reacting beyond an unconscious squeeze. It was the first time being so close to Fortune didn’t make him react at all. Mostly, he didn’t notice.

She was here. She had actually come, right here, in the hospital.

A part of him worried about the cold in his chest. He could see how badly Twilight had taken it. He could see the unruly strands of hair sticking out, the redness around the corner of her eyes, the slow gait she adopted, as if her legs would give out under her.

Even her voice was fragile.

“I wish to offer my sympathies to you all on behalf of the Crown. Rest assured that everything will be taken care of. You’ll receive all the help you need.” A pause, then a lowered head, the reversal of last night. “I am so sorry for what happened to your daughter.”

All four guards reiterated the sentiment. It was no less terrible to hear, but at least half of them tried to stay. After receiving little acknowledgement beyond a nod from Evocator, Twilight turned on her heels.

Edward stood right as he did, but he was faster.

He caught her just in the doorway.

“How… how dare you?” he spat.

Words were faster than his mind. Just looking at her was painful, throbbing painful, his pulse so strong it left him dizzy. He ought to – have been faster – make her understand! Make her feel! Make her think! ‘It’s for your own good’ didn’t cut it!

“Pierre, what are y-?”

“You’re… you’re here, showing your face in front of them! Why do you even think she’s this way?”

She blinked, rubbed at her eyes. “She needs help. I’ll… I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“You’ve seen the file, haven’t you?” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled. “She’s got the Unluck Horn Disease!”

“I know,” she babbled through the tears, “I know, Pierre! I didn’t want this! That’s not how things are meant to work!”

The words were weak. So weak. Now he was glad he had waited for her to leave. If Fortune or the others had heard them…

It wasn’t meant to be like this. No. Good Faith was meant to be skipping around, singing to herself as she happily registered herself for the breeding program. She had been a good filly, doing everything as she had been taught to. And there she was.

What. A. Shame.

“The option was given to all ponies, and raising foals of your own should be your choice.”

“No?” he asked, flatly, tonelessly. “How then?”

Guilt. Mad, frantic guilt ravaging her mind, seeping so deep it rattled her bones and sent her heart into a frenzy. And a balming denial flash flooded her veins, her very being latching onto the idea. This wasn’t her doing!

“She was happy,” spilled from her lips into hushed whispers. “She was perfectly happy just yesterday. She was fine.”

“And now,” -- Pierre leaned in, turned her to the half-open door, forcing her to look at the bed, at the tubes and the beeping machines -- “Now, she’s not. Because she’s not allowed to have foals. Because she’s worthless to you all, and you all made sure she fucking knew it..”

Edward laughed. It should have been the straw to break the camel’s back. It should have, but it sunk deep under Pierre’s skin, rattled right into his bone. It was just… appropriate.

If Life has such a terrible sense of humour, then they’d be fool not to laugh. He ought to learn how to smile without smiling like Edward did. “It’d be cruel to let her have had any other dream, right?”

Twilight tripped. Her legs gave out. He didn’t know. He just saw that she was leaning on the wall of the hospital, breathing hard, heavily, light buzzing around her horn. Something in her eyes like it was going to break.

“You’ve taught her to only live for breeding, and after sixteen years, you tell her she’s not even good enough for that. What’s left?!”

“Her cutie mark is a nursing bottle,” Edward said, as if he were making small talk. The way his eyes searched and found both Belfry and Tempered Steel dispelled any such impression.

The stallion stayed stone still. The mare squirmed.

“Seventy percent...” Twilight whispered, making both her night guards flinch. Violently.

“Look.”

Twilight, her escorts, their heads turned to Pierre. His gaze was elsewhere. To the slimmer of space between the door and the doorframe.

One could see the bed, if they squinted.

“Look!”

Twilight trembled. Stared straight ahead. Away. Away from the bedroom. Away, anywhere but.

“LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

Nopony spoke.

“Stop, please.” Trembling words as if they were tearing her inside. But she still didn’t look. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t my fault. This was an unfortunate accident. Nopony could have seen it coming.”

The feeling of dread, Presage’s look, “Your daughter is a carrier”

YOUNG TEENAGER FOUND DEAD AFTER HIS SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY

“Page twenty-two?”

“Seventy percent...”

The curse spilled out of him. “How could you ever wield an Element of Harmony?”

Twilight folded in half. A gasp -- a sob -- on her lips.

“Wrong question, Pierre,” Edward drawled with a hateful sneer. “How could Celestia?”

Purple light flared.

Washed over them. Shocked. Froze. Filled in the air, shimmering, stilling. Buzzing against metal, and flesh.

Belfry and Steel were both assuming defensive positions, their wings stuck half-extended. Span’s eyes darted around whilst his muscles twitched, almost right between Twilight and the former-humans. Chainmail, tackling a nurse to the ground but stopped before the motion had ended.

Nopony could move.

And there stood Twilight, hovering in midair by her own power -- eyes like white void. “I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU!”

Eyes like rivers.

Edward and Pierre stared into the white abyss. Dared her, dared her to say it again.

The flash of light nearly lifted them off their hooves. The blowback did.

Whereas Twilight Sparkle had previously occupied the spot, there remained but the faintest hints of a scorch mark under her hooves.

“Where did she go?”

It could have been Chainmail or Belfry, for all they heard with their ears ringing.

Attention Span took one look at the scorch mark and groaned. “Oh no.”

“Corporal Chainmail,” barked Tempered Steel, “you are staying with the bicorns. Private Span, you will fly to the gates and ask if any of them saw the Princess, and if possible recruit any pegasus to help us search. Corporal Belfry, you are going to search everything North of the hospital, I’ll take care of the section to the South. Regroup here once you have completed your assigned task.”

They left. Chainmail didn’t make eye contact. He let them go inside the bedroom without any comment. Like he wasn’t even there anymore.

They sat down with the family; Pierre next to Fortune, who latched onto him on the spot, Edward next to Clairvoyance, who had no comment to make.

An hour later, the three guards returned empty-hoofed. None of them had seen Twilight, or caught even a whisper of her. Not the guards at the entrance, not the Chief in his office. Nopony. Tempered Steel’s frown had grown noticeably more pronounced as he grimly announced his conclusion.

Twilight Sparkle had teleported out of the reserve entirely.

“This is bad. Our commanding officer and princess has all but left us to dry,” Belfry snapped, snarling at nopony in particular, but ready to turn on the first to contradict her. Pacing, she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Considering the state she was in as she left, we need to find where she’s gone as soon as possible. Princess Twilight needs us right now.”

“Indeed. I had hopes she had simply blinked out of the hospital, but...” Sergeant Steel’s eyes took a glint not unlike his namesake. “We need to find her, but our mission remains the foreign bicorns’ safety.”

“...Sergeant, I should be the one to stay here.” Chainmail nodded toward their charges. “I… just, I want to stay here. It’s not like I’ll be more useful to you by taking the train. I’m just a small time guard. Nopony special.”

And for a second, somepony could have mistaken his last word as spoken with relief.

You think the horns on your head make you special?

“Understood.” Sergeant Steel nodded. “We simply need to get a hold of our commanding officer. Private Span, you will fly to Baltimare and get to a radio tower. Message Canterlot, explain the situation, ask for sightings of her. I’ll make the trip to Ponyville, see if Princess Twilight has returned to her home. Corporal Belfry, you are to act as backup for Corporal Chainmail. Regular shifts.”

They separated an instant later. Only Belfry stayed for a handful of moments longer, strangely silent for once. She was out the door almost right away, under pretext that she needed to patrol the hospital’s surroundings. Just in case.

Nopony had the desire to call her out on it.

They just stayed there, watching through the window into the streets, at the rows of near identical rooftops, at the hundreds trotting without a thought for the hospital overlooking them.

“You were right, Pierre.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

Chainmail’s helmet was in his hoof, his mane slick with sweat and sticking to his face. His eyes, straight on him. “Back in the hospital. You told me like it is. Same as you Edward. I trained to protect ponies. Not… not whatever the buck we’re doing in this Celestia-forsaken place!”

“Approved,” Ed chimed in, smirking. “Celestia-approved place, Officer. This is her doing. And that of every lemming that accepts it in blind obedience. Glad to see you removed your blinders.”

“I still think you’re a hateful prick, Edward. And you’re not much better, Pierre.” The heat simmered down almost instantly. He slumped. “But this is worse. What… it’s not worth it. There’s no way something is worth it.”

Breathing was easier, if only a little. It could sink in. Ponies were not beyond hope.

“So, Frenchie, turns out you were right on two things, your personal record. Not only did you convince no-longer-a-lapdog here, but Highlight Sparkle did leave us stuck in here. Gonna panic now?”

“No.” Pierre was looking at the bicorns huddled close around Faith’s bed. Something cold and distant had darkened his gaze. “I’m fine with staying here.”

“Well, not entirely surprised you flipflop like a weathervane.” To anypony else, it would sound like a taunt. But Pierre had learned the nuances enough to hear the approval hidden beneath. “If not panic, then what? What’s your next move?”

“I will destroy Celestia.”