Arcane Realms

by Prane

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Silver Spoon, Original Character, Spike, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life
Length: 61354

Spike takes an entry exam at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Individuals. Twilight is there to witness it, and she is not too happy with what she sees.

After several years spent amongst the dragons, Spike returns to Canterlot to take an entry exam at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Individuals. His old friend is there to witness it, and she is not too happy with what she sees.

Published 2015-05-18 02:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-05-11 22:46:41 UTC

0 - How to Train Your Dragon (In Magic)

There was a time when Twilight Sparkle was still new to this whole business of being a princess. Back then, her unruly wings kept springing at the most inappropriate times, wearing a crown in public was nothing more than a punishment, and all those ponies kissing the ground to greet her were turning every casual trip into an awkward walk of shame.

That was roughly fifteen years ago.

Princess Twilight Sparkle had grown since then, not only in size but in spirit as well, and a single glance sufficed to tell she was no longer afraid of her own castle or the responsibility which had been thrust upon her with it. You could see that change in her posture, in the way she stepped off her carriage, and in how measured and gentle her steps were when golden hoof boots struck the pavement below. There was something soothing to her moves, like she weighed no more than a feather and was just flowing forward, the immensely royal individual she had become.

At least until the frustration shattered her perfect demeanor.

“Argh! I can’t do this!”

One by one, Twilight shook off her boots and let her onefold entourage take care of them. Her loyal bodyguard, field assistant, and above all, a personal sponge for all her antics had a suitcase already prepped and ready. It wasn’t the first time Twilight would discard some bothersome part of her formal attire, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last.

“Every time, Princess,” Silver Spoon said, placing the regalia on the silken padding. “Every time you get a new set you’re saying they’re impossible to walk in. Then, after a couple of weeks you adapt anyway, and even claim they’re a percentage more comfortable than the old ones.” The clasps clicked as the guardsmare locked the suitcase. “Every time.”

“Now that’s ridiculous! I liked my old ones better than those bear traps here. Why did we have to throw them away?”

“We didn’t throw them away. We donated them, and we did it because they were old. Every mare has to up her wardrobe from time to time, you know.”

“It’s an unwritten rule. You know very well what I think of those,” Twilight replied. “How come you never complain about yours? They’re pretty much identical to what I have to suffer. Is there some sort of a hoof endurance training at the Hurricane Academy I should enroll?”

Silver Spoon glanced at her own set of boots which matched the rest of her bluish armor. “It’s called dedication, Princess. Plus they’re pretty, they double as can openers, and they can be used as a weapon if you know how to handle them,” she said. “You knew this was going to be an official visit and that you’d have to dress accordingly, so why did you agree to do this? You have more important things to do than to watch foals and their magic fireworks.”

Twilight’s lips twitched as she looked at the ivory building ahead.

“Perhaps because I was once one of them,” she said. “Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Individuals has changed its name to better reflect their new policy of accepting both pony and non-pony students, of course as long as they have a magical talent. Since the overall idea was mine, and they’re using my simple, standardized three-factor recruitment procedure, it’s only natural they want me to check on how they’re doing.”

“So you’ll be actually watching a bunch of judgmental academics keen on crushing those poor kids’ dreams. Great. The day just keeps getting better.”

“Is that sarcasm I sense?”

Silver Spoon frowned, her brows lining up behind the frame of her glasses. “Not at all, Princess. I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”

Compared to the midsummer temperature reigning outside, the indoors felt calm and refreshing. Twilight closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and a blissful smile appeared on her face. Schools, libraries, and other fonts of knowledge were all dear to her heart, and the atmosphere of learning so palpable in such places was worth immersing yourself for a moment. Only when Silver Spoon closed the doors behind her did the alicorn break out of her reverie and followed the empty corridor.

“I guess I was counting on something more exciting this time,” Silver Spoon said. “All you’ve been doing lately is smearing in that luminite stuff and trying out new spell formulas. More often than not with hilariously explosive effects, but I can’t protect you from home incidents you cause anyway.”

“I still go out sometimes. Some of my spells need components.”

“Yeah, from the Everfree Forest, where every living creature has already learned that you are the ultimate predator they should fear, not the other way around,” Silver Spoon replied. “I’m a Royal Guard. I should stand between you and the danger. Coming to Canterlot for an inspection feels so unrewarding, you know what I mean?”

Twilight chuckled. “Cheer up, captain. Princess Celestia will eventually require me to go to the Griffin Kingdom to sign another treaty, and I’m going to need somepony I can trust by my side. I wouldn’t want to end with a three-inch talon in my throat.”

“But you’ve said that High Beak Gilda of the Amber Aerie is a confirmed friendly. This is a purely diplomatic visit.”

“We both know there is no such thing as a purely diplomatic visit whenever griffons are involved.”

“Point taken.”

Twilight stopped about halfway through the corridor, at a door leading to the recently renovated lecture hall. She felt a surge of excitement going down her spine, like those years ago when her parents brought her here for the first time. That one entry exam set her on a path she would have never imagined for herself. From getting a cutie mark and becoming Princess Celestia’s personal protégée, to turning into an alicorn and becoming the fourth of the Equestrian Princesses, it had all began here, beyond this threshold. As she was about to walk in she was denied by a suitcase right in front of her. She let out an undignified snort, but obediently wore the dreaded hoof boots. Those beautiful, terrible boots.

The lecturers assembled inside were engaged in a heated discussion which subsided the moment one of them spotted Twilight entering the room. She shushed her colleagues and slowly went to greet the mares, as far as her elderly legs allowed.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle!” she said. “And the third law of spellcasting is…”

“The energy flux between the arcane field and the spell effect lowers with the increasing complexity of the spell idea,” Twilight recited. “So many years have passed, and you’re still not letting me off on that, Professor Inkwell?”

The old mare scowled, the scar over her eye hiding amongst the many deepening wrinkles. “Not until I’m certain you’ve burnt the midnight oil learning it, young filly!” she replied, but then lightened up, levitating a small box towards the mares. “Nuts?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Silver Spoon said.

“Ha! At least one of you won’t be ending as a senile dolt!” Professor Inkwell said, to which Twilight politely smiled. She had braced herself for the old mare’s wicked sense of humor. “Eh, forgive me, Princess. It seems that my husband’s cynicism is finally getting the best of me.”

“It’s alright. Please say hello to Mister Inkblot for me.”

“You bet I will!” she shouted. “Now, as the head of the examination committee I would like to welcome you, one of our most distinguished graduates, as well as convey our deepest thanks for your contribution towards the recruitment process, here at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Individuals. You’ve certainly made our lives easier.”

“It’s good to be back, Professor, and I’m glad the system is working as intended,” Twilight said, turning to the rest of the assembly. “I understand you still have some preparations to make before the hour strikes. I wouldn’t want my presence to affect the candidates, so it’s probably for the best if I remain hidden from their sight. Would you mind if I take the balcony?”

“Not at all. Make yourself comfortable, Princess.”

The examination committee resumed their discussion, while Twilight and Silver Spoon headed up the lecture hall, along a dozen rows of orange seats, towards the back of the room. There was a spacious passage with a spiral staircase leading to the upper level which Silver Spoon took without hesitation, but Twilight stopped and moaned. Instead of placing her already burning hooves on the steps she spread her wings and began a gentle ascent along the center of the shaft.

“Would you kindly dispose of it?” she said to Silver Spoon, handing her a piece of paper.

“What is this?” the mare replied. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Princess. You’ve made a cheat sheet with the Laws of Spellcasting?”

“Shh! It’s not a cheat sheet!” Twilight said, rotating to face Silver Spoon. “It’s a predisposed, anti-ignorance portable countermeasure. A fail-safe, nothing more. And I didn’t even have to use it.”

Silver Spoon deadpanned. “It’s a cheat sheet.”

“Are you going to shred it or not?”

Silver Spoon held the note in her teeth and tore it in half, then repeated the process several times. The relevance of the pieces declined the smaller they became. “Hm. Perhaps I should have kept that and one day blackmail you to improve my pension,” she said. “On second thought, nopony would ever believe me, right?”

Twilight landed by the other mare with a surprised expression. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As soon as they found themselves a sufficient vantage point over the heads of the lecturers, Silver Spoon approached the edge of the balcony. Following what she had been taught, she eyed the hall for any and all ways in our out, she checked for possible hazards, and assessed a tactical value of all movable objects in the room. One does not become a captain within the ranks of the Royal Guard for nothing, and right now she was the mare on the job.

Twilight removed her hoof boots and tucked them under her seat. She knew that Silver Spoon was true to the end in her service. From a rather troublesome filly she had grown into a fine mare whose presence was not only appropriate, but appreciated as well, in accordance to the talent locked in her cutie mark. Like a teaspoon’s worth of sugar or lime was enough to improve the taste of a tea, Silver Spoon’s tiny drops of goodwill, support, but also tactful sarcasm and honest critique were enough to make Twilight’s life much more enjoyable.

Professor Inkwell waved at them with her nut box. “I think we’re ready to begin. Princess Twilight?”

“Please, go on!” Twilight replied. “I only ask you to judge the candidates by their skills and knowledge as much as their will to work hard towards overcoming what they lack at the moment.”

“Very well,” Professor Inkwell said, turning to a mare in an elegant vest. “Professor Little Tale, would you please call our first candidate?”

Despite her expectations, Twilight found herself enjoying watching the faculty at work. The members of the committee all applied to what she had proposed in her version of the recruitment procedures, and turned out not as scary in their doings as she herself remembered. They were fair and firm, but also kind while telling a candidate that he or she doesn’t quite fit their, at any rate, quite prestigious school. They provided excellent feedback, and the failed colts and fillies weren’t leaving in tears, but with a conviction that with a bit of hard work they will get in next year.

Who knows? Perhaps there was a prodigy in the rough amongst them? Princess Celestia encouraged her to seek a promising student of her own, but Twilight wasn’t sure if she was ready to form a mentor-mentee relationship with anyone at this point. She still had much to learn, and although she was all in for helping younglings grow and develop their skills—like she had done with her friends’ sisters—taking a protégé under her wings didn’t feel right for her just yet.

Good thing none of the candidates so far seemed in need of an extended curriculum. The first one presented a classical growth spell, but unfortunately the effect didn’t hold and his starburst rose shrunk back into a tiny seed. To make things worse, the pot exploded sending a flurry of clay shards at the committee, but thankfully nopony got hurt. The second candidate didn’t impress either. She came up with a cute magical juggling routine with a set of crystal orbs, but she couldn’t maintain her focus long enough, and ended up sweeping the shattered spheres off the floor.

The only accepted candidate wasn’t even a pony, but a red-eyed changeling Feeder. Studies showed that aside from their natural ability to alter their appearance, only one in ten changelings could cast spells like ponies did, albeit they were rather limited. However, once they soaked enough love energy from their surroundings, they could do much more, and even outmatch the stronger of unicorns.

Twilight recalled her last year’s trip to Changeling Hive Chrysalis. She learned a lot about their culture and customs, and she had to admit they were quite an intriguing species. What they needed was a push in the right direction, and the Cultural Exchange Treaty she had signed with Queen Chrysalis was a warrant of a greater future for both them and the Equestrians. On the top of it, they still had their “pony” inside influencing the Queen herself in a positive way.

She shook her head and returned to the matter at hoof. Professor Inkwell let out a bored sigh as she discovered she was out of snacks.

“That was the fourth one today. So far I’m not impressed.”

“Because you keep comparing them to that one you’ve had last week, Professor,” Little Tale replied. “I wasn’t there, but I know you just couldn’t stop praising her little firework show. What was her name again? Dazzle? Puzzle?”

“Razzle. She’s Beatrix Lulamoon’s daughter.”

The stallion sitting on the other side chuckled. “Ah, the actress! That would explain why the filly turned her entry exam into a show.”

“It was a good show of magical talent nonetheless,” Professor Inkwell replied. “Hopefully she’s going to work harder than her mother. Did you know she was a student of ours as well? Unfortunately she dropped out sometime during her second year.”

“You know that it’s never about getting in, but staying above the line throughout the semester,” he said. “Eh, whatever. Let’s get back to work before the Princess thinks we’re nothing but a bunch of gossipers. Please call the next candidate, Little Tale.”

“Alright, let me—wait, did some bookworm ate half of this pony’s name? Professor Inkwell?”

“Oh, no, the name is fine. But it does not belong to a pony.”

Twilight couldn’t see the gifted individual entering through the door, but once they opened she had already known. She could feel it, and she felt conflicted the moment she realized what it all meant. Part of her couldn’t believe he was back, another hated him for not contacting her as soon as he set his clawed foot in Equestria. Her usually suppressed emotional self was proud—like a sort-of-sister would be of her sort-of-brother—and demanded she went down there to support him, but the voice of reason countered it with a batch of justified worries and a substantial dose of anxiety.

Silver Spoon whispered, “Is that Spike, Princess? What is he doing here?”

Twilight frowned. “Continuing his magical studies, no doubt.”

“So he’s doing it despite your—”

“He is.”

Much like Twilight had changed over the years, Spike couldn’t be considered a baby dragon anymore, but nor was he a winged, temperamental adult residing somewhere at the heart of a blazing volcano. The best word the ponies had for describing Spike’s current stage in life was to call him a teenager, which was vastly inaccurate considering the dragons’ natural longevity and cultural differences, but conveyed the overall physical changes well enough.

The Spike standing in front of the examination committee was three times as tall as he had been when Twilight first took him to Ponyville for a Summer Sun Celebration. His tail grew longer, the green spines coming from the top of his head and down his back looked sharper, and he seemed to have lost some of his belly fat along the way. He wore a bone necklace and carried a simple travelling bag full of scrolls and several crystals protruding amongst them. He put the bundle by the lecture desk, and handed a sheet of paper to the examiners.

“Let me tell you, Mister Spike,” Little Tale began, “we don’t see many of your kind around Canterlot. The majority of our students are unicorns, we have a couple of changelings, griffons, even a houndrel or two, but dragons—dragons are a rarity,” she said, to which Spike smiled in glee. “We’re happy that you’re interested in our educational offer. To begin, I understand there are some differences in how dragons use magic in comparison to ponies. Would you care to explain it?”

“With pleasure,” Spike replied, his voice a couple of tones deeper to match his adolescence. “The model we dragons use to describe magic is identical to yours. Like one of your great scholars stated, we are all surrounded by streams of intangible particles of magic which, however invisible to our eyes, can still gather around places, objects, or individuals, and hence be manipulated.”

Professor Inkwell nodded. “Star Swirl’s Arcane Field Theory, that’s correct. The particles are inert until a magic user starts shaping them, first by attuning to the streams, then forming a spell pattern, and finally powering it with the desired spell idea to bring the effect to the open.”

“This is where our takes differ, esteemed examiners,” Spike replied. “A pony cannot activate the spell pattern if the alignment of the streams is incorrect, or the spell idea hasn’t been pictured clearly enough. The spell simply doesn’t work then, and there is no effect to the caster’s effort,” he added. “It takes great patience to go through the attuning, aligning, and envisioning, but dragons aren’t exactly known of their patience.”

Spike took a deep breath and spit a ball of emerald flames at his right hand. The flames engulfed his claws up to his wrist, storming with miniscule outbursts of magical energy, much like sparks escaping a bonfire’s blaze. He stretched his arm over his head for all to see it.

“Do not be alarmed, esteemed examiners,” he said. “What you see here is a manifestation of magic not unlike the aura forming around your horns. It only appears more, shall we say, erratic because it has not been shaped into a spell pattern just yet.”

“Interesting!” Little Tale said. “How is this possible?”

Twilight stood up and approached the balcony.

“Dragons do not ask kindly for the arcane realms to align for them,” she said. “The fire they breathe, essentially combusted contents of their lungs, has some characteristics of a magical phenomenon in itself. It resonates with the magic particles on its path, bringing them out from their inert state to the open. Isn’t that right, Mister Spike?”

Spike looked up, surprised at first, much like the ponies who turned in their seats.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle. What an unexpected honor,” he said, bowing towards her. “And you are very much correct. Once my fire gathers enough magic, I can shape it into a desired spell effect much like a unicorn does. With your permission, I would like to present my skills.”

“By all means, please.”

Spike moved his hand over his bag. The aura less stormy than the gauntlet he wielded surrounded it, and lifted it from the ground. He then used his other hand to draw some magic from the gauntlet and search through the contents of his bag without touching it. He took out a small chunk of garnet and a piece of silver, set the bag on the ground, then used both hands to remotely shape a piece of jewelry. First he bent the metal into a setting, then attached the gemstone and clasped it with another drip of silver. Sparks shot as he was expending the magic his fire breath had gathered, and he used the last bit of it to throw the earring to Twilight.

“A gift for the Princess,” he said, “and my entry presentation, esteemed examiners.”

Little Tale nodded, exchanging glances with the rest of the committee. “It seems to me that dragons cast their spells from the other end! Fascinating!” she said. “Thank you for your presentation, Mister Spike. I think we all agree that you’ll be a valued member here at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Individuals. We can go to formalities now, unless Princess Twilight has something to add?”

“I… I do not.”

“And how’s the earring holding?”

“It’s a work of art,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Professor Inkwell?”

“The only problem I see is that Mister Spike’s knowledge about magic is more advanced than that of our average first year student,” the mare said, signing a sheet with the school’s emblem and showing it to Spike. “However, we can’t put you straight in a higher grade because there are courses other than magic around here. You’d land in the middle of pretty advanced material without knowing the basics. What do you say to that, Mister Spike? Can you go to the first year?”

Spike grabbed the document and rolled it into a scroll. “I have come to Canterlot to learn, so it’s probably for the best to start with the basics,” he said. “Thank you, esteemed examiners. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“You bet you will!” Professor Inkwell shouted.

When Spike left the room and the committee was about to call the next candidate, Twilight’s horn was already shimmering as the streams of magic from half across the lecture hall centered their flow on her. She turned to Silver Spoon.

“I’ll be back with you shortly, and if I don’t, please take care of my things.”

“Wait, what—”

A fraction of the second later Twilight was gone.

Silver Spoon noticed the golden hoof boots strewn under Twilight’s seat. She sighed.

“She’s doing it on purpose, I swear.”

* * *

Spike eyed the scroll again. He got in!

The entry exam went rather well, all things considered, though he honestly expected more questions about the general theory of magic, like the laws of spellcasting, or the possible solutions to the arcane equilibrium conundrum. Not that he wouldn’t answer them all, or at least most of them, as thanks to Twilight—probably the smartest pony he knew—and her late night study sessions in which he was obliged to participate, he was pretty much acquainted with the topic. He only lacked practice, but that was going to change now that he’d become a student of one of the most acclaimed schools in Equestria.

Next stop: Student Service Department. It was time to find a roommate.

“Hey, Mister Spike!”

“Whoa! Twilight!” he exclaimed, jumping away at first but then immediately locking the mare in a tight hug as she appeared out of thin air. “So great to see you! Sorry if I seemed half-hearted back there, but I didn’t want them to think they should treat me any different because I know you. Did you get my letters?”

“All of them. Your notes on the dragon culture proved most insightful, and I may have cited them in my own dissertation about your kin. You’re mentioned in the sources, so don’t worry,” Twilight said, showing Spike towards a nearby lake. “Cross-indexing dragons by their chromaticity and the color of their fire seems like a neat idea, and, speaking of colors, I especially liked the part about how dragons dye their scales to impress potential mates. However, I’d like to offer a counterpoint to your claim that dragons—”

Spike captured Twilight’s muzzle in a firm grip of his claws. “Twi! I haven’t seen you for three years. Could you just shut up with your scientific nitpicking and tell me how pleased you are to see me again? You know, like ponies and their friends usually do?”

Twilight blushed. “You’re right. Sorry. I missed you, and it’s good to have you back in Equestria,” she said. “But look at you! You’ve grown!”

“Says who! Did you surpass Princess Celestia already?”

“Neither in height, nor in wisdom, and I would rather have it stay that way.”

“Well, you’ve certainly matched her in dramatic phrasing.”

“One does not—oh, very funny, Spike.”

They sat at the edge of the lake, in the shadowy bower of a neatly trimmed maple. As far as Spike could remember, that was Twilight’s favorite spot of outdoor studying. The foliage was still of dark green color, but with autumn around the corner it was going to turn red and orange in just a couple of weeks, and then deepen into vibrant shades of rich burgundy. As long as it was still warm outside, such places in the school grounds knocked spots off libraries full of dusty tomes.

Twilight immersed her hoof in the water, disturbing the peaceful surface with a cascade of ripples.

“I didn’t expect you to come back just now. You should have let me know.”

“It took me by surprise as well, to be honest,” Spike replied. “Kryvarost said there was nothing more I could learn from them now, so he advised I carried on with my journey around the world and learn what it means to be a dragon. See, I can learn customs and traditions while in the Dominion, but apparently true understanding of one’s nature comes from his experiences.”

“Ambassador Kryvarost once again hits the spot.”

“Gold ones are like that. He offered me a lift to the Equestrian border, and I thought about enrolling here while I still fit the doorjambs. Give me twenty years and it’s going to be a problem, I assure you.”

“So you’ll be studying magic. That’s… nice.”

Spike scratched up a couple pebbles from the ground. He threw one of them at a white water lily, but he missed.

“Come on. That’s not what you’re really thinking, is it?”

Twilight took out the garnet earring. Only from up close could one see multiple fractures in the silver setting which could have been caused only by the incautious use of magic. The same applied to the gemstone, which albeit flawless when Spike took it out for the first time, had miniature cracks on its surface.

She captured the earring in her own magic and hovered it over the lake. Disassembling it midair, she separated the gemstone from the setting, then reached to her mane and took out a silver hair pin. A purple wisp fell on her forehead as she bent the metal into a small circle and sent a stream of molten silver to where the original trinket had its impurities. Finally, she returned the cracked garnet to the setting, and hardened the heated metal in the lake. The way she transfigured the earring would satisfy any customer, especially one with big ears.

“What you did during the exam was wrong,” Twilight said. “There is a reason dragons don’t usually pursue the magical arts, even if some of them can. Most of the time it’s because their claws, scales, and breath solve all the problems they can possibly have, but also because they know how unstable and thus dangerous their use of magic is. This cracked gemstone is the best example.”

Spike threw another pebble at the lily, but he missed once again, cursing under his breath.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Please don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Without the idea preceding the spell, magic exists in its raw state. What you’re doing is taking that untamed magic to the open where you have little control over it until you expend it to cast a spell.”

“I appreciate your concern, Twilight, but I think I’ve shown my control during the exam,” Spike replied. “Besides, you use your horn to influence the magic around you while I use dragon fire. How is that different?”

“Ponies attune themselves to the streams of magic. Dragons subordinate them to their needs.”

Spike let out a low growl. He knew the topic would surface at some point, which was exactly why he didn’t want to see Twilight before the entry exam. He was more than happy to see her again, sure he was, but ever since he discovered he had a magical talent and informed Twilight of it, she had been subtly trying to discourage him from following this path. Her efforts had proven futile so far.

He stood up.

“Tread carefully, Twilight. You don’t want to make it into an argument against what dragons are.”

Twilight didn’t turn to face him, but stared at the vast expanse of the lake. “A small dose of magic is not a problem, and with sufficient willpower any caster can control it,” she said. “But you didn’t tell them about the other capability of the dragon fire, did you? Once you set the flame alight you don’t have to breathe again. You can burn the amount of magic you already have to widen the flame and take control of even more. And more, and more.”

“I know what you’re going to say. The more raw magic I hold at once, the more difficult it becomes to control it. I have my limits, I know that. Is that your point?”

“Do you know what happened to the dragons who decided to work over their limitations?”

Spike snarled, taking another failed shot at the lily. “Do enlighten me.”

The alicorn straightened up. When she looked Spike in the eyes there was no sign of disappointment or remorse in her stare, only an unspoken wish that her fears would never come true. It interwove with genuine care, but Spike couldn’t shake off the feeling that Twilight’s sisterly look of concern had lost some of the warmth he remembered from the days of old.

“Their greed has become the cornerstone of their demise,” she said. “Skotafendri, trying to teleport herself to the moon. Agriodank, convinced he could transfigure all his wealth into a single, flawless gemstone. Misoferix, trying to take his lair out of the regular flow of time,” she said. “The list goes on. Each and every one of them was consumed by their own dragon fire which they couldn’t control. I don’t want the same happen to you.”

Spike threw his hands up in despair. He was not a baby dragon anymore, he was going to study magic in Canterlot or elsewhere, and he had enough of this lecture.

“Well, if you think I’m dangerous, then why didn’t you stop the exam the moment you saw me? Surely it wouldn’t be too hard for the Princess of Equestria and the overall expert on all things magical to convince the committee to kick me out!”

Most ponies would shudder at the first sight of the imposing dragon breathing over them, and they would most certainly turn tail upon noticing that his fists were alternating between being clenched and having sets of sharp claws extended, as if to strike. There were better ways to go than to cross paths with a dragon, everypony agreed on that.

Twilight remained calm in the face of Spike’s rising anger. She first put her hoof on his scaled chest, right next to his rapidly beating heart. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t louder than a whisper.

“Because I want you to be happy,” she said. “What kind of friend would I be if I stood between you and your dreams?”

As if by magic, Spike lightened up and shook the dark instincts off his head.

“Don’t worry, Twi. I have my bad side under control.”

Twilight smiled, her horn shimmering as she put Spike’s bag on his shoulder and smoothed the strap. She clasped his hand in between her hooves. “I know you do. You may be growing into a formidable dragon, but I know for sure that you’re also kind, loyal, and true. Don’t ever lose sight of what makes you truly great,” she said. “I have to go now. There’s still like half a dozen candidates today and I have to talk to the professors afterwards. Drop by Ponyville when you have a chance, okay? Our friends will want to hear all about what you’ve been up to lately.” Twilight’s horn shined stronger as she took a step back. “Oh, and sincere congratulations on getting in! Study hard and make me proud!”

Spike chuckled. “Thanks! And I will!”

Twilight disappeared in a flash of purple light, leaving Spike alone at the edge of the lake. He exhaled a little flare which danced around his claw, then he turned his attention to the water lily he couldn’t hit earlier. He clenched his teeth and the flame grew, first into the size of a tennis ball, then again to match a watermelon. He stretched his arm and targeted the lily with the blazing inferno. He could not cheat nature, and deep inside he really did yearn for more.

Amidst the flames he spotted a silver ring with a garnet pebble, wrapped around one of his claws.

He shook his head in disbelief and heartily laughed, then moved his arm and shot the ball of fire into the water, far from the lily which just danced on the waves his spell caused.

Twilight Sparkle really was the smartest pony he knew.

Author's Note

Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! :raritywink:

1 - How to Make Friends (And Cause a Magical Mishap)

Whether it’s better to be feared or loved was a question that every school teacher had to ask themselves at some point of their career. Some embraced the more benevolent side of their profession and did their utmost to convince the students to the joys of learning, while others reveled in keeping them at the edge of their seats dreading the thought of yet another unexpected quiz. Every school had its tyrants and guardian angels among the staff, both very much needed throughout the semesters of educational endeavors.

Then there were those who couldn’t truly settle for either of these roles despite having forty-something years of work experience.

“…which brings us back to where we started,” Professor Inkwell said, her horn glowing as she sent a piece of chalk to the blackboard. One by one, she underlined the important names and keywords all connected by the common concept of magic. “Prospearo’s weather experiments. Gancalf the Grey and the Fellowship of Harmony. Star Swirl the Bearded and his organized, almost scientific approach. As you can see, the pre-classical era is full of figures who helped us understand the phenomenon of magic on which we continue to rely in our everyday lives.”

She pressed a pair of glasses to her face and looked at the clock, a pentagonal piece of junk.

“We still have some time, but not enough to even scratch the surface of the classical era, so we’ll do something different. Your curriculum expects us to keep to the chronological order at all times, but since it’s been written by someone as savvy as my husband’s fat blowfish, I feel morally obliged to keep you entertained until the break, my way.”

The remark elicited only a few chuckles across the classroom, as everyone was still busy adding boxes and colorful exclamation marks to their notes. Like all students three weeks into their first year, they still cared about the look of their notebooks. They also still had separate notebooks for each subject, Introduction to Spellcasting included.

Professor Inkwell sat up in her chair. “Let’s leave those fossils for now and talk about the modern era,” she said. “Who can tell me the name of a pony whose studies in the field of social interactions led to discovering a new branch of magic? Any ideas? Anyone?”

A chubby changeling sitting just before Spike raised his hoof. “Uh, Princess Celestia?”

“Not entirely,” Professor Inkwell replied. “She’s documented close to seventy spells and has been involved in a couple of important events in the history of pony magic, but we’ll be talking about her on a separate lesson. But, good thinking! The pony in question definitely shares a common trait with Princess Celestia.”

“Is it Princess Luna?” an elegant filly asked.

“It is not Princess Luna. She’s unmatched in the magic of dreams, but that’s not it.”

The correct answer came from the absolute side of the classroom, delivered by a griffon girl of snow-white feathers, graphite coat and a voice so soothing it made you think you were listening to a lullaby. She appeared a bit detached from the reality, like she was daydreaming adrift.

“I believe you want to tell us about Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Professor Inkwell unleashed a furious chalk assault on the blackboard. “Twi… light. Spar… kle. Ha! Thank you, Glavia,” she said and pointed to the list of names. “Unlike all these, Princess Twilight Sparkle is very much alive, which is why you should find her interesting in the first place. Born here in Canterlot in 1181, and currently residing in a village called Ponyville, she is most known for creating, or rather discovering the magic of friendship in 1201. It is one of those branches we are yet to fully understand, but various studies have shown that the arcane field is affected differently depending on the relationship of any two individuals. If they are friends, or close acquaintances, the streams of magic between them align spontaneously.”

“Like they do in the presence of a crystal pony?” someone inquired.

“Very good!” Professor Inkwell replied. “Ah, that reminds me of your homework for Monday. I would like you to choose a race other than your own and write a one-page essay on how they use magic. You should also include at least one example of a spellcaster hailing from that race who lived in the pre-classical era. In the spirit of the magic of friendship, a good way to start would be to ask your colleagues about how they cast their spells. For Monday!”

Neither Spike nor anyone else moaned, groaned, or otherwise expressed their disapproval, as they had already learned to treat homework as a natural part of life. Rumor has it that Professor Inkwell was once so impressed by one of her students that she let the entire class go without any additional task, but so far the other rumor stating she got the scar over her eye when she was riding a griffon to fight a dragon was much more believable.

The old mare helped herself to a handful of nuts she kept in her desk. “Now, back to the topic at hoof. The thing with crystal ponies is that they cannot cast spells on their own. However, their crystalline bodies, their very presence harmonizes the arcane field around them. Hence it’s always a good idea to bring a crystal pony when several casters are tapping into the streams of magic at the same time. It’s also much easier than making sure they all like each other,” she said. “A question, yes? Silk?”

It was that elegant filly again. “Is it true that you taught Princess Twilight?”

“Indeed it is,” Professor Inkwell replied. “Yes, I’m that old, don’t look so surprised! For those of you who don’t know, or simply haven’t visited the eastern wing yet, Princess Twilight also attended this school. She is one of our most distinguished graduates.”

“Why is that?” a cornflower-coated filly sitting by the window asked.

“If you want to ask a question, Miss Lulamoon, please think about raising your hoof first!”

Her hoof shot straight up.

“Yes?”

“Professor, you’ve said Princess Twilight is one of your most distinguished graduates. How can she be one of them, and not the one? My mom told me that she wasn’t born an alicorn, but she became one when she discovered the magic of friendship. How could anypony come even close to such awesomeness?”

Spike chuckled inwardly. Every now and then since he came back to Equestria he was reminded how different was his perception of Twilight from anyone else’s. She was recognized and admired by many, but they could only see her through the prism of her achievements and virtues, sometimes talking about her like she wasn’t even a real pony, but some archetype to follow. For Spike—who had accompanied her at various stages of her life and witnessed both her highs and lows—she was definitely real, and learning about this new, half-legendary Twilight Sparkle was amusing in itself.

Professor Inkwell stood up and engaged in a trip around the classroom.

“Yes, it is true that Princess Twilight’s arcane aptitude surpasses that of an average spellcaster, and that this school has been always putting an emphasis on teaching magic. However, you do have other courses, I’m sure far more interesting than mine, don’t you? Over the years, we’ve educated the ponies whose talents flourished, but were not necessarily related to magic itself,” she said. “Take Lyra Heartstrings, for example, a mare who graduated the same time Twilight Sparkle did. She wasn’t known for her magical skills, or the number of spells she could cast, no. Instead, she was really good with string instruments and had outstanding vocal capabilities. It’s a wonder she didn’t go professional, I tell you!”

Spike snickered. He actually remembered Lyra from her Thursday performances at the Ponyville Choir. Their interpretations of The Princess Shall Rejoice and other Homecoming Anthems composed in honor of Princess Luna always brought a tear to his eye, even if he was quick to deny it.

“Talent comes in many forms,” Professor Inkwell continued. “You can’t really compare those, just like you can’t compare two cutie marks in terms of one being better than the other. This is why I consider many exceptional individuals our most distinguished graduates, each in their own field. Does that answer your question, Miss Lulamoon?”

When the filly shook her head, the midday sunlight brought to mind orange peels thrown amidst the amber flames of a bonfire that constituted her messy mane. “Not entirely. I understand that there can be many talented ponies, but I wonder if there was ever somepony as good in magic as Princess Twilight when she wasn’t the alicorn yet?”

The bell announcing the break resounded, but much like the students hadn’t lingered about their homework before, they didn’t dare to move now. They all remembered to rely on their teacher’s word and not the bell when it came to finishing the lesson, and some of them, Spike included, eagerly awaited the answer.

Professor Inkwell stopped by the window. She sighed and squinted as if she was trying to spot something in the distance that was no longer there. “No,” she said. “There has never been a graduate in my time who could match Twilight Sparkle in magic.” She turned back. “Class dismissed! Try to remember about your homework over the weekend. If we get past the theory soon enough we’ll do some real spellcasting next month, starting with the telekinesis spell!”

In the general commotion which arose, Silk’s haughtily sophisticated tone sounded over the crowd. “But, Professor! We can all use our telekinesis already, and most of us know a variety of spells. Do we really have to start with such trivialities?”

The mare fell to her chair and reached her drawer for more nuts. “Yes, because you’re young and I’m stubborn. Now off you go!”

A seemingly endless stream of students flooded the corridors, but Spike had no trouble navigating through. He headed outside and back to his dormitory, a three-storey building which was slowly becoming his home. His roommate, a third-grader houndrel named Achares who was a bit of a neat freak wasn’t there, so Spike dropped his bag by the bed—neatly—and left the dormitory as well. Since he couldn’t really say he had gotten to know Achares, or anyone else at school, he usually spent his leisure time strolling around Canterlot alone. In fact, it seemed the gifted individuals of all races had trouble integrating. Outside of classes griffons stood apart, houndrels sought other houndrels, and changelings sort of disappeared, most likely transforming into ponies to avoid being left out. Luckily, there was no interracial tension amongst the students, as most of them cared more about themselves rather than making the life of someone else a misery.

Most didn’t mean all, and Spike experienced it first-hand the moment he turned around the shadowy corner of the building.

Silk Stocking had it all. She was rich, talented, and pretty, and was fourteenth in line to the throne of Equestria because of her father, Prince Blueblood. Above that, she was awfully self-centered and did not respond well to anything that could harm her reputation of Miss Perfect. Fate, it seemed, was not without a wicked sense of irony, and had Silk cross paths with none other than Razzle Lulamoon, a filly who for some reason always ended in the epicenter of unfortunate events wherever she went. On the first week, she spilled cranberry juice on Silk’s ridiculously expensive Coco Pommel dress. On the second, she tripped over a ball and pulled Silk into a muddy puddle during a PE class. Last Wednesday she dared to know the answer to the question addressed to Silk, and being a hot-headed individual she made the other filly look ignorant in comparison.

Not even a month into the semester, Silk had declared Razzle her sworn archenemy, and right now the tension seemed to escalate as the two fillies clashed in a fierce staredown.

“You just don’t get it, do you, Matchhead?” Silk said. “If you don’t start behaving I can make your life really uncomfortable.”

Razzle took a step forward. With the slim and supermodel-like Silk standing next to her she appeared pretty petite, but that didn’t stop her from raising to the tips of her hooves and glaring at the other unicorn.

“Try me.”

Spike sighed. Had he been a dragon from the Dominion, he’d walk away. It wasn’t the matter of his lair, his wealth, or his family, so why would he care? He played with the garnet ring on his claw. Unfortunately for him, he was a dragon from Equestria where you were supposed to care for others, so at times like these he tended to ask himself one thing.

What would Twilight Sparkle do?

“Hey, do you think you could tone it down a bit? The weekend just started, so why the hostility?”

Silk scowled at him menacingly. “This doesn’t concern you, Spike. Walk away.”

“Yeah!” Razzle added with an equally mortifying gaze of her own. “I can handle this prissy missy on my own, thanks!”

“Prissy missy? Why, you—”

A chilling shade of blue engulfed Silk’s horn, but Razzle was faster. She conjured several colorful flickers which resembled miniature fireworks that didn’t fly high, but instead burst out all around Silk. The filly closed her eyes and took an angry step towards Razzle who had her hind leg already stretched out. Silk tripped, cried out, and landed head first in an untrimmed beautyberry shrub. The ligneous stems were merciless, and when Silk unstuck herself and ran her hoof along her disaster of a hairdo, she was almost in tears. She straightened up, sharing daggers in her eyes between Razzle and Spike who chose not to get involved, as so cordially requested.

“My father will hear about this!” Silk shouted and galloped away, nearly trampling some bulky unicorn as she was taking the corner.

Spike turned to Razzle. “So, what was that all about?”

“Oh, you know. The usual,” she replied, dispersing the aura around her horn. “Silk Sock thinks I’ve mentioned my mom and Princess Twilight Sparkle because I wanted to show off in front of the class. I guess since she can’t really invite any of the Princesses to her piano recitals or whatever her kind does, she wanted to vent her frustration on me. So I told her to get lost, she told me to watch my mouth and, well, you saw the rest.”

“What a hypocrite. Nice fireworks, by the way.”

Unmoved by the compliment, Razzle replied plainly, “I guess they were alright.”

The longer they stood in silence while avoiding each other’s eyes, the more awkward it got. Truth be told, Spike didn’t have such an elaborate conversation with anyone since day one. It took him a moment to remember he was no longer among the dragons where he was supposed to stay put and listen to those older and wiser. He was in Equestria where it was perfectly fine to wish a complete stranger a nice day.

Too bad he was so out of practice.

“So… yeah.”

“So, I better go,” Razzle said. “I’ve got a thing to do at the library. See you on Monday?”

“Mhm, see you. Oh, and it was, uh, really nice talking to you!”

By Celestia’s drizzled mane, he was rustier than a merpony’s colander. That was so lousy even pre-Ponyville Twilight would be able to teach him a lesson about making friends. He shook the vision of babbling Twilight off his head. Here and now, he was the only dragon at school, and since he was slightly older than the rest of his class he didn’t have anyone to whom he could relate. At least this Razzle Lulamoon was a somewhat familiar name. Besides, he could really use someone—anyone—for the upcoming group project Professor Little Tale had mentioned yesterday.

“Hey, you know what? I’m in no rush today. I can come with you if you want. You know, in case Silk Stocking tried something funny.”

”I don’t need a protector,” Razzle replied as she was leaving. “I can handle whatever dim-witted insult she’ll come up with next.”

Spike caught up to the filly and grinned. “Oh, I have no doubt about that. I’m actually worried about myself. If she’s picking on others just because they know Princess Twilight then I better stick with you,” he said, stretching out his claws. “I’m Spike, by the way.”

Razzle looked up at him, a towering dragon tall enough she could ride on his back. Spike knew playing the oppressed classmate card was a stretch, but when the filly snickered he responded in kind to hide his relief. After how his last meeting with Twilight went he was afraid the crude ridges of the Dominion had bereaved him of his natural charm.

“Razzle. Razzle Lulamoon,” she replied. “Nice to meet you, Spike.”

“Likewise. So, where did you say you were going?”

Razzle’s eyes shined.

“The Archives!”

They sauntered towards the bulgy towers squeezed between the campus and the Royal Castle, exchanging silly jokes about Silk, as sharing the common enemy once again proved to be the ultimate icebreaker. Spike remembered that some of the towers, like Star Swirl the Bearded wing used to have pretty tight security, but since the School expanded its educational offer, the entire Archives had been revamped. The ancient grimoires and one-of-a-kind spell scrolls were transferred to a safer place, and the vast libraries opened to the mundane needs of the students and their homework. Going up the staircase without a Royal Guard every three steps made the wing more welcoming, but Spike was glad that certain things—like the smell of knowledge he had not appreciated in his youth, or the massive, enchanted hourglass occupying the middle of the top floor—remained the same.

When Spike and Razzle entered the library, a chunky pegasus of average looks approached them. Spike didn’t know him, but a single glance was all it took to know he was a librarian to the bone. He had the bearing of somepony who had spent a rather impressive portion of his life sorting through dusty tomes, and would most likely have all of them stand neatly on their respective shelves, undisturbed for the next thousand years or so.

“Greetings, students,” he said, taking out round spectacles of his brown and beige vest. “Looking for something specific?”

Razzle nodded. “We are. We’re interested in yearbooks dating thirty to a hundred years back, maybe older. Is this the right floor?”

“Certainly,” the librarian replied, showing them to follow him. “You first graders must be working on some history project, eh? I’ve just given the two most recent volumes to another student, but the rest is at your disposal,” he said, flying up the bookcase from which he passed a tome to Spike. “I suggest you start with this one. Please return any books you’re done reading to the trolley. I can take them from there.”

With the weighty reading material in their possession, Spike and Razzle sat at one of the tables separating the middle of the room from the rows of bookcases. He noticed that the book was emblazoned with the old crest of the School, a prancing unicorn under a shooting star drawn into a laurel wreath.

“Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns Yearbook Collection, 1150-1169. What exactly are you looking for, anyway?”

“Some answers,” Razzle said. “Professor Inkwell said that there hasn’t been a pony in her time who could match Princess Twilight.”

“She did. Your point?”

“Well, what does it even mean, ‘in my time’? That’s a pretty odd phrasing, even for a—” Razzle looked around and covered the side of her muzzle. “Even for a cranky old mare like her. It’s almost like there was somepony before her times about whom she didn’t want to tell us.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“That’s the puzzle!” Razzle replied. “I intend to try and solve it.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t think you can find a more magical pony than Twilight in her youth. There’s been a couple of unicorn troublemakers along the way, sure, but they were no match for her. She’s just, well, how to put it?” Spike froze as he searched for proper words, but he ultimately gave up and shrugged. “She’s Twilight Sparkle.”

“So what? It’s the thrill of following the trail that counts!”

“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Razzle said. “This might as well be a fool’s errand, and I blame all those stories I’ve heard as a foal for going on it. I always liked the idea of exploring the unknown like all those adventurers, you know. When I grow up, I want to travel around Equestria and beyond, visit faraway cities, uncover their secrets and meet all kinds of ponies. I want to be independent, maybe have a traveling wagon and go wherever I want, whenever I want.”

“Do you also want to become, say, the greatest unicorn who has ever lived along the way?”

Razzle raised an eyebrow. “Where in Equestria did you get that idea? No, my mom always says that true greatness comes not from your achievements, but from dedicating yourself to what you love doing. And I do love a good mystery! Come on, aren’t you curious? Just imagine, a unicorn better in magic than Princess Twilight Sparkle herself!”

A bittersweet realization struck Spike. Was this really happening all over again? He had spent his early years wandering the school grounds, visiting libraries, and handing books to a unicorn studying magic. Today, many years later, he was once again wandering the school grounds, visiting libraries, and handing books to a unicorn studying magic, only that this time she happened to be less of a bookworm and more of a swaggering daredevil. That was enough to appreciate the change, especially since he got promoted from a helper to a co-learner, even if his scope of responsibilities still revolved around writing things down.

Razzle was skimming through the book. “I have the first candidate. Radiant Dust, the class of 1152. Eight accolades, the Sapphire Star of Aptitude included. Hmm. Princess Twilight had ten, but that’s close enough,” she said. “You know her, right? What is she like?”

“Twilight? Well, she’s smart, talented, a great organizer, too. Uh, she also likes red balloons over any other color for some reason. Oh, and it’s better not to approach her when she’s busy reading, stargazing, or trying out new spells. She bursts in flames when she’s angry, like, literally,” Spike said. “Most importantly, though, she’s a good friend, and she cares about those close to her. Why do you ask?”

“It’ll sound silly, but she’s one of those heroes from my bedtime stories. Mom’s favorite, I suppose. It wasn’t until I was older when I realized that she’s an actual pony, and not a made-up character. Even then, I couldn’t believe those things happened for real, like how the Spirit of Chaos, Discord changed Equestria into a crazy realm for a day, or how that Tirek guy tried to steal magic from us,” Razzle said. “Sour Grape, 1162. Nine accolades. You’re noting down the years, right? They may come in handy later.”

Dipping the hawk quill in a vial of pricey violet ink, Spike nodded. “Eleven sixty-two, got it. Yes, it’s true that Twilight’s been involved in quite a lot of flashy events back in the days. Speaking of which, that spell you treated Silk with. Did your mother teach you that?”

Razzle glanced at her cutie mark, a firework exploding over a crescent moon, slightly darker than the color of her coat. “She showed me the basic pattern, but I brought it further on my own. Now I can conjure those fireflies faster than anyone else, well, at least faster than anyone I’ve met so far, but they are not very powerful explosions at all. It’s more of an eye-catching trick than an actual, useful spell,” she said. “Hey, how did you know my mom can cast stuff like that? She’s not normally using magic in her plays.”

Spike hesitated. He remembered the fireworks display from a diplomatic event that occurred the same day a certain mad mare took over for a day, but he decided to play it safe for the sake of the filly. He wondered if Trixie told her family about her inglorious past.

“I saw her show in Ponyville once, many years ago.”

“Hmm, Ponyville. Ponyville. I think she mentioned it. Is that the place where she had to run from an ursa?”

“Yup, that’s the one. That space bear was as tall as a barn. It came from the Everfree Forest and rampaged all over the town.”

Razzle halted her search. “Must have been quite a view,” she said, crossing her forelegs on her chest. She sighed. “Eh, I feel I was born too late. Every cool thing of this century has already happened, and I’ll have to wait another thousand years for anything exciting to take place again, but, whatever. You can add Coral Mist of 1168 to the list. Eight accolades, and also the winner of the Capricious Comet Contest. Hmm. I didn’t know we had talent shows around here. Interesting.”

“Coral Mist,” Spike acknowledged. “I wouldn’t worry much if I were you. It’s true that a lot of great things happened when I was your age, maybe even younger, but that doesn’t mean nothing else ever will. It may not be as spectacular as what Twilight and the Element Bearers had to go through, but this is the magical land of Equestria we’re talking about, after all. You’ll get your grand adventure one day, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, I hope you’re right. It’s just… my mom had the luck of meeting Princess Celestia when she was just a filly. You are friends with Princess Twilight. I bet one letter is all you need to have Princess Cadance organize a feast in your honor. That crystal statue of yours, by the way? They made you look fat,” Razzle said. “Everyone I know either is, or knows someone important, someone who did great things. Compared to their stories my life is pretty boring. It’s so predictable and shipshape it’s driving me crazy sometimes.”

“It’s not easy to have famous parents, is it?”

“Mhm. I dream of adventure, but the best I can get is a garden party hosted by a fancy-pants ambassador and his wife. I mean, it was alright for a Canterlot Elite thing, but that’s not really where I see myself.” She closed the book and climbed up her chair, scanning the work zone of the library. “Alright, we’re done with this one. I wonder if the guy reading the—oh, come on.”

“Is it Silk?” Spike asked, turning in his chair. He noticed a nearly identical tome to the one they had been reading a couple tables away. “Oh, that’s the girl from our class. What’s her name? G-something?”

Razzle rolled her eyes. “All griffons have their names starting with a ‘G’, G-Genius.”

“Alright, so you have your book. It looks like she’s not using it right now.” He turned back to see the filly sinking behind the edge of the table, squinting at the griffon. “Razzle?”

“She’s so strange,” she replied, her voice taking a conspiratorial tone. “Come on, you know what I’m talking about. She always sits alone in the classes, she doesn’t talk to others, she’s not living in the dormitories like the rest of us. After school she either goes to the library or flies straight back to the city. She’s hiding something, I tell you.”

“Maybe she has a reason. I don’t see a problem with that. Besides, until today I wasn’t really talking to others either.”

“Yes, but you’re you, and she’s strange!”

Spike sighed. It really was happening all over again. What was wrong with the young unicorns that they got so awkward around the others? Dragons laughed at their petty problems and their general lack of competence. As hulking combinations of scales and fire, they never shunned talking to each other, and even if they weren’t particularly fond of someone they remained respectful in their approach, just like the approached party was expected a certain degree of hospitality. Losing at this game of appearances could lead to being branded weak—a terrible strategy of wooing the females—and the first thing Spike learned in the Dominion was that in life there was no place for pitying the weak. Only the power mattered, and those who wielded it.

No. He had gone too far in his reasoning. He quickly twisted the ring around his claw a couple times. Razzle wasn’t weak, she just needed someone to guide her. Where’s Twilight and her expert supportive attitude when you needed it?

“Razzle, listen. You said it yourself you want to travel around the world. I bet that G-what’s-her-name is from the Griffon Kingdom, so if you talk to her now and make friends then maybe she’ll invite you to come over. Isn’t that what you want? To visit faraway lands?”

“This is all true, but I also said I wanted to visit them after I finish school, right? Ha! Checkmate!”

“Alright, so you’re telling me you’re satisfied with just three names for your research?”

“It’s not like I need them today,” Razzle replied with a shrug.

Spike planted his head on the table.

“I give up.”

After a while of contemplating whether it was worth to suffer through the antics of the first grade, Spike felt a nudge.

“I was just wondering,” Razzle said. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with your chair? They’re not meant for someone as big as you. I imagine sitting on them feels terrible, and worse, you can get a serious defect of posture. Look, you’re already slouching! You should stretch out a bit, maybe even take a short walk.”

“You just want me to go get the book for you.”

“Me? No, not at all!” she replied, acting out her surprise quite convincingly. “But now that you mentioned it, then sure, why not. If it’s not too much of a hassle, that is.”

Spike unstuck his forehead from the table and saw Razzle casually inspecting her hoof. “You’re impossible,” he said and straightened up. “All right, but just this once, and you owe me. I’m not your assistant, you know.”

Razzle, the embodiment of juvenile innocence, beamed. “Thank you!”

The hourglass displayed on a stump-like stand reminded Spike of Twilight’s time travel incident. It was a fateful Tuesday, not because of his friend acting in, well, Twilight sort of way, but because he got a nasty stomach ache after his ice cream binge. He shuddered at the mere thought of it. Past Spike was not a smart guy.

“Hi there!” he said as he reached the other side of the work zone. “Your name is Gilda, right?”

The griffon girl swept her feathery fringe off her forehead. Just like earlier in the classroom, her voice wasn’t very daunting. “No, it’s actually Glavia. But don’t worry, I know how confusing it is. I’ve been called at least a dozen different names already. Gilda’s new, but I like it,” she said, smiling gently. “And you are Spike.”

“Right I am!” he replied, wondering how someone could be so—for lack of a better word—pure, especially compared to the unicorn who pretended she wasn’t watching. “Listen, my friend and I need that book you have here, the seventies-eighties one. Are you still using it?”

Glavia moved a peculiar, triangular satchel away, then pushed the tome towards Spike.

“No, not at all. I won’t be using it any longer.”

“Thanks. What were you looking for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do not mind,” she said, showing Spike the outstanding calligraphy of her list of names. “It’s just some personal project about griffon teachers. This school had quite a flock of them, you know. The yearbooks have their short bios, like when they came to Canterlot and from where they hailed. I’m checking if there are any names I should know.”

“Okay, good luck with your research, then, and see you around!”

The glaciers of the world once again melted the moment Glavia smiled. “Fair winds to you, Spike. It has been a pleasure.”

When Spike returned to his table he found Razzle with her horn lightened up. She was holding the quill with a tight grip of her magic, but the shimmering aura seemed to be on the edge of disappearing, like a light bulb about to give its last. Maintaining the spell required an unusual deal of concentration of the filly, so when Spike put the book down thus disrupting the delicate balance, the quill was immediately released from the grip.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Razzle replied, frantically smoothing the barbs which got ruffled by her magic. Her hooves were shivering. “Oh, hey! You got the book! That’s great!”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine. It’s a fine day, I’m doing research, you got the book. How could I not be fine?”

Spike moved his chair closer to the table and leaned towards Razzle. “Well, you do seem nervous. Your horn was shining brightly, so the attunement was legitimate. You got your patterns right, and the spell idea was obviously correct, but your magic wasn’t holding. All it took to disturb it was me and the book, and I wasn’t even directly affecting the arcane field,” Spike said, glad that he had the general theory of magic already covered. For once, he was the smarter one. “I can tell a distracted unicorn when I see one, believe me. So, what’s troubling you?”

Razzle was reluctant to answer at first. When she spoke, the tone of her voice was devoid of its usual confidence.

“My telekinesis sucks,” she admitted. “Surprised? Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. How could anyone so terrible at the most basic of spells get into such a prestigious school? It’s the first thing most unicorns learn, right?” She sighed, playing the quill between her hooves. “Well, I’m not most unicorns, and like Professor Inkwell said today, talent comes in many forms. I’m good at bending light and conjuring those fireworks, but telekinesis, it’s so… I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I can’t do it. It just doesn’t come naturally to me,” she said. “Out of twenty, thirty attempts I can lift ten teacups, but I’ll crush eight or nine of those before my first sip. Bigger stuff? Forget it. I can’t even get my bag moving.”

Spike listened patiently, then nodded.

“You know, I had trouble with my telekinetic grip too,” he said. “There was this dragon I met, Manaskalos, a really interesting guy, but also very demanding. I guess you could call him my first truly involved magic teacher. One day he took me to the Combustion, which is like a really hot place even for us, dragons. Lava fonts, clouds of ash, you get the picture. So, he showed me this beautiful gemstone, a garnet the size of the coconut. No kidding, it really was that big! He showed me the gem, then threw it away, like from here to the exit. He then, uh, stepped on me.”

“He did what?”

Spike giggled as the filly’s wide open jaw crooked in a grin of disbelief. “He actually did! He said the gem would be mine if I could reach it, and I could only do that with magic. So I tapped into the streams, my face deep in gravel, and tried to burn the trail between myself and the gem, but I kept coming too close or too far away. It was like casting a fishing rod.”

“Yeah, with a dragon on your back!”

“A minor inconvenience,” Spike said, remembering some of his other, even more draconic trials. “The heat was unbearable and I was starving after skipping a couple of meals, but the gem looked so enticing. Manaskalos said that the most certain way to cast a spell is not about the right pattern, or the right amount of magic. It’s about our desire to accomplish something we normally couldn’t, about dedicating ourselves wholeheartedly to what we want the most. Perhaps it’ll work in your case as well.”

“If you want to step on me, then you should know I bite.”

Spike shook his head. “I’m not going to step on you!” he said, then moved the book closer to his end of the table. “I’ll just put it here and dare you to take it from me. No hooves.”

Razzle’s ears perked up.

“You’re on!”

A thin aura the color of fresh sunflowers appeared, but only around the front cover of the book.

“Come on,” Spike said. “You can do better than that. You really want that book, don’t you?”

“Of c-course I want it!”

“Then think about your research. Think about how unraveling this mystery will open a path to faraway lands you dream about.”

“N-not helping!”

The focus straining Razzle’s face turned into a full-blown staring contest which was gaining on its intensity as the seconds passed. Her struggle was evident, and Spike could feel the streams of magic twirling over the table, but not quite joining the forming spell yet. Finally, like waves storming the shore, the aura spread and engulfed the book, lifting it an inch into the air.

“Hey, I’m doing it!” Razzle said. “Let me try something different. Let’s see how you dance, book!”

“Wait, don’t turn it! For now, just concentrate on pulling it towards you, but do it gently—whoa!”

Instead of hovering towards the filly, the tome darted over Spike’s head. He ducked rather than trying to catch the missile which flew across the library, bounced off the floor, and banged against the bottom bulb of the hourglass. A miniscule, star-shaped crack popped up on its surface.

Spike hid his face in his claws. “Gently! Do you even know what that means?” He pointed at the hourglass. “Good thing it’s enchanted. It’ll fix itself if we don’t touch it. Twilight told me about it.”

The glass mocked him by cracking some more.

Razzle cocked her eyebrow. “You were saying?”

The sound of shattering glass muffled a nasty word which escaped Razzle’s lips when a barrel’s worth of soft, delicate sand flowed from the hourglass, first forming a pile on the wooden stand and then littering the floor. Grains which remained in the broken bulb also tumbled to join their rocky brethren below, like some invisible force pushed them so they could become one with the growing dune.

Carrying her weirdly shaped satchel, Glavia joined Spike and Razzle at their table. “Are you alright? Did anyone get hurt?”

“Awesome!” Razzle exclaimed. “I didn’t know I had it in me!”

“She’s fine,” Spike said. “I’m fine, too. You?”

“I don’t really like loud noises, but I am well. Is that what you needed the book for? Because there are easier ways to break glass.”

Spike brought the book back to the table. “No, of course not!” he replied. Clenching his teeth, he added, “We were just casting some spells when somepony decided to turn it into a cannonball!”

Razzle climbed the table to almost match Spike in height. “Hey, how is this my fault? It was your idea, and your training method!”

“Which you didn’t bother to follow, anyway!”

“Please, don’t fight over nothing,” Glavia said, bringing her beak and calming attitude between the two glaring faces. “Did one of your spells meant to animate the sand?”

Spike and Razzle turned in unison.

“Do what?”

Glavia pointed her talon at the small dune by the hourglass. “The sand. It’s moving.”

The grains began their gravity-defying climb up the stand. Despite the lack of draft to lift them, they flew into a furious dance around the hourglass. Like snakes constricting its prey, the streams of sand slid up the bulbs where they converged, and from there, they surged back to the floor, not randomly, but in an organized manner which manifested into a shining, enigmatic form.

Out of all physical features of the trio, it was Spike’s vertical posture—and nothing beyond it—that wasn’t alien about the masculine-looking newcomer who, however, was no dragon. What dragon had four slim arms protruding from their shoulders, or the crystalline body the color of gleaming emeralds? Rather than legs, he had a pillar of bubbling foam taken right out of a luxurious bath. His face was flat and sleek, and as if to mirror the state of his body, its lower half was hidden behind an iridescent scarf of superb quality. If the magical nature of the entity wasn’t apparent enough, the ends of his scarf hovered on their own, like they were immersed in the water.

As they took a step towards the hourglass, Spike asked cautiously, “Razzle, what in the world have you done?”

“I have no idea. But it’s cool.”

The entity looked around, his solid magenta eyes scrutinizing the shards of glass and what little loose sand remained on the floor, then turned his attention to the library itself. He stretched his four arms forward, joined the delicate fingers of his four hands together, and cracked his joints which swooshed instead of producing the actual sound of joints cracking. The same swoosh echoed when he moved his head left and right, just before he bolted over the trio to the bookcase behind them. Book by book and shelf by shelf, he started throwing heavy tomes behind his back. At the same time, he hummed a tune one would have in mind while doing chores around the house, but the efficiency of four arms and utter carelessness turned that cleaning duty into a barrage.

“Watch out!” Spike shouted.

He wasted no time in grabbing Razzle under his arm before a copy of Creepy Carrot’s Creepy Carrots Cultivation Compendium could crash her cranium. The filly squeaked as he dashed outside the bombing zone. Deftly flapping her wings, Glavia dodged a flurry of books and landed behind the dragon, with Razzle’s muzzle right in front of her beak.

“I don’t believe you and I have ever had a chance to talk face to face,” she said, her expression puzzled, but still amicable despite the chaos that ensued. “Are you a friend of Spike?”

“Well, I guess you could say there’s some mutual understanding between—PUT ME DOWN, YOU SUPERSIZED LIZARD!”

Spike dropped the filly none too soon, saving his spines from bite marks. “You’re welcome,” he muttered. “Glavia, this is Razzle Lulamoon. Razzle, meet Glavia.”

“Sup.”

“I am honored,” Glavia replied. “I was just wondering. Do you have many jinn in Equestria?”

Razzle smacked her forehead. “Oh, he’s a jinn! Of course!” she exclaimed. “I thought they were just a breezie tale!”

“I’m pretty sure breezie tales come with morals, not muddlers!” Spike said.

The rhythmic thudding of the falling books ceased. When the jinn emptied the entire bookcase he whirled over the tomes scattered by him, and the sudden gust of wind arranged them back into neat stacks. He picked the first stack and, following his own method, started putting the books back to where they belonged. It was like re-shelving day all over again, but with no noticeable sense.

He placed his first book on the first shelf from the top, commenting on it in a deep, but harmonious voice muffled by his scarf. “That’s first to the first, second to the first as well, but third to the second!” he exclaimed, seemingly enjoying himself. He put the fourth book on the third shelf, then skipped one and placed a volume on the fifth. “Sixth to the eighth! Seventh to the first! Eighth to the third!” He spiraled and swept the rest of the library with a resigned stare. He pulled down his scarf and sighed. “Those kinds really perceive the reality in funny ways, but these are all wrong! How to find the one answer in such an unorganized quantity of possible outcomes?”

Shouting out more numbers, he plunged back to his task.

“Do you think we should do something?” Glavia asked. “It would be wise to call the teachers, I suppose.”

Razzle shook her head. “Nah, we can take him! I say we kick his… whatever he has that’s for kicking. Spike, go roar at him, or better yet, bite his face off!”

Spike glanced at her, then did a double take. “Just what are you talking about?”

“What? I’m just saying. It would shut him up, wouldn’t it?”

“We can also try to reason with him,” Glavia suggested.

“Thank you!” Spike said, grateful that he was not alone in his sanity. “Alright, here’s the plan. You stay here, I go talk to him. He doesn’t look dangerous, if pretty crazy, so maybe we can stop him from rearranging Canterlot before he does any more damage. If we can’t, we go find someone who can. Let’s try not to aggravate him, just in case, but if anything happens, I need you to get out. We don’t know what kind of magic we’re dealing with.”

“That’s exactly why we’re staying!” Razzle said. “We got your back, Big Guy! You’re with me, Gloria?”

“It’s actually Glavia, but thanks for trying,” the griffon replied, caressing her satchel. “We are not defenseless, Spike, and you probably don’t want to use your dragon magic to contain the jinn. Fire does not go well with libraries and autumn leaves.” She looked at Spike, glimpses of relentless conviction shining in her distant stare. “We’re staying.”

Spike smiled. So that’s how Twilight felt every time her friends were there to support her.

The jinn, who was now hanging upside down somehow keeping his frothy parts attached to the top of the bookcase, kept organizing the tomes with no lesser efficiency than before.

“Excuse me, uh, sir,” Spike said. “Could you please step down for just a minute? You see, you’re making an awful mess around here, and I know somepony who’d scorn you for treating the books like that. It’s not that we don’t appreciate your sorting effort, we’d just prefer you to put them back to the trolley when you’re done. Our staff—that for whatever reason is not here at the moment—can take them from there.”

“The irrelevance of the binominal bipedal and his request approaches maximum! He needs to learn!”

Spike deadpanned, “That’s kind of why I’m here.”

The wind blew when the jinn shook his head. He jumped to the floor and put one of his hands on Spike’s chest, then placed the other on his shoulder. His touch was pleasantly calm, even consoling. “Not him,” he said.

Despite being a supersized lizard Spike felt short, and despite being well in control of himself he felt giving up to a strange sense of serenity which engulfed him. The raging fires of his raw, draconic heritage incited in the Dominion hushed for a moment, subdued by a gentle zephyr stroking his scales. Only the sense of security and quietude prevailed as time itself seemed to slow down for a couple of heartbeats.

The jinn pointed to himself. “He is looking. Now, if you’ll excuse him. He must keep looking!”

Spike shook his head, feeling numb as if he had awaken from a slumber. “What? Wait, what is that you’re looking for? Perhaps I can help!”

“He’s looking for some answers!”

“Yes, but to what—”

“CHAAARGE!”

Jumping between tables, Razzle threw herself at the jinn. She clenched his scarf in her teeth and let the momentum doom them both. The jinn faltered, spun round himself and the filly, and fell flat on the table. Razzle hit the floor, quickly got back to all fours, then pulled the scarf even harder.

“Aha! Incredible!” the jinn exclaimed. “He sees that you’ve adapted her set of solutions quite aptly already!”

Spike groaned, trailing his hand across his face. “I told you to stay put! What does it take to get you to listen?”

With the fabric still in her mouth, Razzle replied, “Shure, blame ush for shaving you from getting brainwashed!” She spat out the scarf and wrapped it around her hoof. “Yuck! It tastes like a bucket.”

“Brainwashed?”

“Yeah! How else do you call it when someone stares at you for half a minute with their creepy glowing eyes?” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Hit it, Glinda!”

Of all the astonishing things he had witnessed today, what Spike saw as he looked back struck him the most.

Glavia was holding an intricate talisman, the major component of which was a triangular, silver frame hanging from a delicate chain connecting two of its pointy edges. The frame, slightly scratched and worn out from years of being handed down from generation to generation between griffon shamans, had a small carving of bright stone fixed in the middle. It resembled a fox, and was surrounded by three sets of stone feathers, one set for each side, and four feathers in each set. The feathers had various vivid colors, but a keen observer could spot they had been repainted recently, and that multiple layers of bleached dyes hid underneath.

Glavia raised the talisman as high as her now closed eyes. She took a deep breath, and a silver mist similar to that surrounding the horn of a spellcasting unicorn appeared around the triangle. Her fringe got ruffled as the streams of magic around her shifted their flow and obediently intersected at the heart of the talisman where the carving itself shined the brightest. The magical aura burst forth and shaped itself into three foxes which ran through the air as if they had a solid surface beneath them. Their silhouettes partly ethereal, they dashed towards the jinn, guiding strings of silver magic which followed them. They danced around him and bound him to the table, soaking into the strings and strengthening them as soon as they were done jumping.

When Glavia opened her eyes, her gaze was serene, but focused like never before.

“It’s Glavia.”

“A margin of error? Extraordinary!” the jinn exclaimed in joy unheard of someone immobilized against their will. “What a wonderful experience, perceiving the reality from a horizontal perspective! He did not expect the streams previously incalculable to reveal their vastness now. The answers are about to become clear!”

Razzle jumped on the table and sat atop the jinn’s chest. She grabbed the nearest book and smacked it open on his head, leaving him face to face with a group of second-graders of 1189. “Stop talking already, you freakish pixie! Seriously, it’s annoying!” she said, turning to Spike. “Alright, so he stopped meddling with our books. What’s the next step?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, for starters, you’re older!”

Spike threw his hands up in despair. “That doesn’t make me an expert on all things jinn! What do you expect me to do, shove him into the hourglass?”

A new voice, orotund and royal, joined their conversation.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Sauntering towards them was none other than Princess Celestia. Spike would say that time had been kind to her, but in truth she didn’t seem to have aged at all. He always suspected her to be pretty much timeless, but it was difficult to support such claim when he was seeing her every week in Canterlot, and then on occasions after he and Twilight moved to Ponyville. Today, he had changed, Twilight had changed, the whole wide world had changed, but Princess Celestia remained the same. Not a single wrinkle had appeared on her benevolent face, nor one hair of her shimmering mane had turned gray. When she entered the room, she brought not only her immense glamour and noble splendor, but also a shift in the arcane field, because just like crystal ponies, the alicorns possessed the innate ability of aligning the particles of magic around them with no effort on their part.

“Are you alright?” she inquired, visibly more concerned about the students rather than the pitiful state of the scattered books. When the trio nodded, she turned to Glavia who was still channeling the magic through her talisman. “I can take it from here, thank you. You may release our guest now,” she said, then approached the table. “Sevenfold greetings to you, one jinn.”

The jinn removed the book he had on his face, revealing his wide open eyes as he looked upside down at the alicorn. “The quadruped of four eyes and four manes? Could he really be twice lucky?” he asked, sliding down the table and getting back to his “feet”. He then hovered around the alicorn, closely examining her features. “A most unusual occurrence! The Fifth spoke highly of your name and the name of your twin-mane shadow who ceased to walk with you. A shame!” he exclaimed, then upon finishing his inspection, asked, “He must have one inquiry. Are you the one many call Celestia of Canterlot?”

“Indeed I am.”

The jinn joined his four hands on his chest. “Sevenfold greetings to you, Celestia of Canterlot. His name is Comprehension, the Fourth Axiom from the City of Infinite Fountains, and the last of the jinn,” he said. “He is honored by your presence.”

Princess Celestia nodded. “The pleasure of meeting one of the jinn again is all mine,” she said, looking back at the hourglass. “I take it that you have been living here, at the library, for quite a long time now.”

“Nil, that’s disprovable! He lives in his City, as he has already stated. These two bulbs conjoined in mirrored symmetry are but a vessel for a chance to assume the continuity of this form. He apologizes, but he had to irreversibly deprive you of what was yours.”

Spike realized that even if put together, the patches of the sand that remained on the floor didn’t make up for the sand that had been filling the hourglass. “Does it mean your kind can only appear when there’s enough sand around? Deserts, beaches, sandboxes?”

Razzle whispered to Glavia, “If that’s the case I’m never stepping into a sandbox again.”

“You and me both,” Glavia replied, smiling to the filly who snickered in response.

The jinn exclaimed, “The bipedal comprehends!”

He rushed under the table and picked up the last stack of books. Murmuring more numbers to himself, he shelved them all, except for the one Razzle had slapped him with. Rather than putting it down immediately, he placed it on the table. With no other tomes within his reach he picked it again, as if he changed his mind, and only then carefully shelved it, almost celebrating the act. He then grabbed it back, nodding.

“You are quite a booklover, I see,” Princess Celestia said. “Is this why you’re here? To learn from our libraries?”

“In a way, yes. He was wandering the aqueducts when he took notice of a disturbance at the forty-third membrane,” he explained. “The magic from the two conjoined bulbs interfered with it, so he went through to investigate. Forgive the rearrangements, Celestia of Canterlot. He could not stand the lack of logic in your approach,” he said, handing the book—the seventies-eighties yearbook—to Celestia. “A most fascinating lecture. He understands why so many have sought it,” he added, his lips warping in a mysterious smile. “But, he has already overstayed his welcome. He is running out of sand!”

“Please, wait! I would very much like to learn more about the jinn. Could we at least arrange a meeting in the near future?”

Comprehension swooshed to the hourglass from under which he took a single, ordinary grain of sand. “He will consider both of your wishes in due time,” he said. “Sevenfold farewells to you, quadruped of four manes and four eyes. May our two asymmetrical paths cross again one day.”

The grain glowed between his fingers, and his emerald form dissolved, blurring and smearing as if had been thrown into a rippling lake. When the jinn disappeared completely, the grain fell to the floor, carried by a gust of wind which threw it amongst the patches of sand. Spike and the others tried to keep track of its movement, but the winds swirled and mixed the patches into a single small dune, burying the grain between its identical brethren.

The jinn was gone, and all that remained was the mess he had caused.

Glavia was first to speak. “I feel sorry for him,” she said. “He said he was the last of the jinn.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” Princess Celestia replied. “Some time ago I’ve ran into one of them in Saddle Arabia near a lovely village called Al-Hoofuf. She also claimed she was the last of the jinn, so maybe they’re not all alone.”

“Then why would they say that?” Spike asked.

“To keep outsiders like us confused, I believe. Maybe their city is not meant to be visited, at least not yet,” she said. “Who knows? The world is still full of wonders yet to be discovered, and every such experience is a chance to learn something new. Speaking of which, how is school? Are you having a good time with your teachers?”

They all replied in unison, “Yes, Princess.”

“Are there any issues troubling you?”

“No, Princess.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

While they were talking, the librarian pony emerged from one of the aisles. He was breathing heavily and the tips of his wings were shivering like he had just ran the Canterlot Promenade and back. Spike had no idea how could someone get so winded from cowardly hiding through the entire drama.

“P-Princess? Is it safe to come out now?” he asked, carefully keeping the minimum safe distance from the broken glass. “My goodness, what a mess! The books! The hourglass! What a terrible mess!”

Celestia instantly entered her comforting tone, “Take a deep breath, and do not worry. There’s been a minor magic mishap, that’s all,” she said, watching the librarian closely as he passed by her. “Excuse me, I do not think we have met before.”

Breathing in and out, the pony replied, “My name’s Prim Rooter, Princess. I work at the Archives, but I’ve been reassigned here only recently.” He looked at the hourglass, crestfallen. “It seems your mishap wasn’t that minor, eh? If you’ll excuse me, Princess, I need to bring order back to this place. Students, out!”

Spike and the rest grabbed their belongings and headed towards the exit when Princess Celestia raised her hoof.

“Not so fast,” she said and walked around the broken hourglass. “Do you know the story behind this work of art? It was sponsored by the Rich family shortly after their daughter had graduated. Her grandfather, Cheeky Rich, insisted for the sand filling the bulbs to consist of only the purest and roundest grains from the Saddle Arabian desert. Since there were no airships back then, the hourglass stood empty for over six months. Unfortunately, Cheeky Rich did not live up to the day when the shipment of satisfactory quality finally arrived about a hundred and sixty years ago.”

Razzle’s pale blue cheeks turned even paler.

Princess Celestia turned her attention back to the three students. “If I’m not mistaken, the jinn said he noticed a magical interference on our side, one that had to originate from the mending enchantment of the glass. However, it would only activate if someone tried to break it,” she said, looking at each of them individually. “Is there anything you would like to share before you go?”

Spike and Glavia both did their best to not look at Razzle.

The filly sighed and stepped forward. “Well, Princess, I guess this one’s on me. It was an accident! I was just practicing my telekinesis when things got out of hoof. I flung a book at it, then it cracked, then it broke, and then the jinn got free. I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry.”

Spike couldn’t believe this. Razzle, the quick-tempered daughter of her mother, apologizing, acting responsible, and above all, taking the blame herself? That was unexpected. He heard the silent echo of the dragon mantra ringing in his head: it wasn’t the matter of his lair, his wealth, or his family, so why bother? Well, for starters, because he could.

He took a step forward as well. “If I may, Princess. Razzle wouldn’t do that if I didn’t dare her to take the book from me. The blame is mine as well.”

Glavia joined him by Razzle’s side, calm and collected as usual. “Actually, Princess Celestia, I was the one who gave them that book in the first place. Perhaps if I had kept it for a while longer, none of this would happen. I realize that I may not sound very convincing, but I would like to ask you to reconsider your decision.”

“Guys, don’t—”

“If you want to punish her, Princess,” Spike said, “then you’re going to have to punish us as well.”

Princess Celestia looked down at the trio, her face revealing nothing. She could be angry at them, but her forehead wasn’t frowning. She could be disappointed by them, but her lips weren’t pursing. She could even be impressed seeing how nobly they were standing up for their new friend, but her eyes weren’t showing any signs of approval. Not for the first time it turned out that if Princess Celestia didn’t want you to read her, you wouldn’t be able to pierce her mask of indifference even in a thousand years. Spike and the others could but await her judgment in silence.

She nodded.

“Let it be so.”

Well, that was a total bust.

To the last second Spike deluded himself that Princess Celestia’s benevolent heart would triumph over her inner teacher, a relentless mare capable of bringing out your best qualities as well as exposing your most shameful lacks. For him, however, she had never been just a teacher, because the only thing she taught him was the spell to send letters—and, pardon the burp, receive them—even before he could talk fully cohesive sentences. No, Princess Celestia was more than that. She was the face he saw on the other side of a tower he built of wooden toy blocks. She was the voice he listened to when he was falling asleep in his cradle. She was the comforting touch he felt on his belly whenever he ate a gem too many.

Spike sometimes thought of Twilight as his older sister, but Princess Celestia was the closest thing he had to a mother.

He crouched by Razzle. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ll have to come up with a better plan next time.”

“Hey, you tried. That’s what counts,” the filly replied, crooking a smile. “Thanks, Big Guy. You too, Glavia.”

In the state of near-ecstatic joy that in the griffon girl’s case meant smiling a tad brighter than usual—which, in turn, almost certainly meant that somewhere in the world, a greedy dragon had a sudden thought of donating his entire wealth to charity—Glavia turned to Razzle. “You finally got it,” she simply said. “I value your effort more than you think.”

Seeing as the culprits were failing to suppress their giggles, Prim Rooter groaned. “Can’t they just go away, Princess? I don’t want to have them around while I’m cleaning this place up. My line of work requires a great deal of concentration which these three clearly lack!”

Princess Celestia looked at him inquisitively. “I’d rather have every book and grain of sand to be left undisturbed for the time being, if that’s not a problem,” she replied, clasping the seventies-eighties yearbook, the apparent top read of Canterlot, in the pale gold of her magic. “The jinn may have left us some clues regarding the nature of his visit.”

“B-but, what about the mess?”

“I do understand that keeping the books in order is your responsibility, but I’m going to need the library exclusively for myself now,” she said. “I suggest you take these students outside and arrange them a suitable task to properly reward them. Perhaps something involving porcelain? I believe they have already reached their destructive capabilities for today.”

“Princess?”

“That would be all, Prim Rooter.”

“Uh, right away, Princess,” he said, turning to them with a frigid stare. “Follow me, students.”

After they murmured their goodbyes to the Princess, Prim Rooter led the trio downstairs. They followed him around the base of the tower along one of the less frequented, hedged pathways of the Archives. Razzle put on a long face and Glavia maintained her usual, distracted expression, but Spike felt glad nonetheless that he was going to serve his punishment in their fine company. If having someone with whom you could get through the unknown wasn’t a good enough reason to accept your fate with dignity, then nothing else was.

Prim Rooter stopped for no reason, looked around, then uncovered a well-concealed passage between two ordinary shrubs.

“All right, students, I think we’re clear now,” he said, meeting three pairs of dumbfounded eyes. “What?”

Razzle asked hesitantly, “What kind of punishment are we getting, sir?”

“I’m not going to punish you, Lula-Razzle.”

“Hey! How do you almost know my name?”

Prim Rooter shrugged. “I remembered it. You made quite an impression when you were introducing yourself during our first class.”

Spike crossed his arms. There was something really odd about this pony. “Hold on a second, ‘sir’. You’re a librarian, but you’re saying you’re also a student? In our class? How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“But you have,” he replied, taking a step away from them. “Excuse me. Perhaps my natural form will prove more familiar to you.”

A green flash enveloped Prim Rooter from heads to hooves, altering his appearance in the blink of an eye. His coat blackened into a charcoal carapace, holes the size of tangerines appeared on his legs, while his wings lost their feathery cover and became transparent and shear to resemble those of an insect. High on his forehead, a slightly arched horn appeared, protruding over a pair of vivid red eyes. The only physical characteristic that prevailed was the changeling’s general chubbiness and the clothes he wore.

“Salutations, classmates!”

Spike’s jaw dropped, Glavia nodded with minimum vigor, and Razzle bounced up in surprise.

“Whoa! No way! You’re that changeling fellow from our class!”

“Piro-Merrot, at your service,” he replied, taking off his vest and glasses. He took a deep, hissing breath. “I am glad I have invoked such a positive response in you, Lula-Razzle.”

“Yeah, about that, it’s still Razzle Lulamoon, not the other way around.”

Merrot rubbed his neck, a blush of embarrassment reddening his cheeks. “Uh, sorry. I still have trouble following that unorganized naming convention you ponies use. Some of you have a single word for a name, others have two. Some have middle names which they don’t ever use, which makes those redundant, while others go by a nickname, and not their real name. It’s messy,” he said. “We changelings have our names properly ordered: first comes the name of our caste, then our first name. As Merrot of the Feeder Caste, I am Piro-Merrot. You, as Razzle of the Lulamoon caste—uh, the Lulamoon house, rather—would be Lulamoon-Razzle, but I shortened it to Lula-Razzle for convenience. I’m sorry if I disrespected you or your ancestors by doing so.”

Razzle giggled. “Nah, my parents would be fine with that, don’t worry. Lularazzle sounds kind of cute, too!”

Spike noticed Merrot’s blush deepening, but the changeling quickly dived into the passage between the shrubs. He returned carrying a chest of considerable size in the glowing red miasma of his magic. He kicked it open and put his librarian costume inside, placing it in a compartment between the insignia of the Royal Guard and a magnifying glass wrapped in a deerstalker cap. “That’s about it for Prim Rooter. Too bad, I was beginning to really feel him.” He looked at himself in the mirror installed in the top of the chest, frowned, then, in a flash of green he produced a frizzy, amaranth mane to match his eyes. “What do you guys think? Not too bright? Oh, and I hope you won’t tell anyone about this little stash of mine, right? It’s for emergencies only.”

“We won’t, but you really need to explain yourself,” Spike said. “Why the deception? The changelings are at peace with Equestria, you are allowed to study here like anyone else, and you’re not normally transforming during classes, so why do it now?”

Merrot sent the chest back to its hiding place. “It’s a fair question,” he replied. “As you probably know, I’m here thanks to the Cultural Exchange Treaty with Equestria. My Queen allowed me and a group of other exchangelings to enroll here. She wants to find out if the SGI lives up to its reputation, and if non-unicorn students are treated fairly.”

Razzle frowned. “And fooling Princess Celestia was your idea of learning it how exactly?”

“You seem to have little faith in your leader,” Merrot noticed. “I don’t believe I fooled her. I think she saw right through my deception, but for some reason she didn’t want to compromise it,” he said. “When you released the jinn I jumped off the library window, transformed into a guard, and headed towards the Royal Castle to bring reinforcements. Halfway there I ran into Princess Celestia, and told her that students were in danger. You should have seen her! She only asked where to go, then blasted into the air!”

“So that’s why you were all huffing and puffing,” Spike said. “You got back to the Archives, changed into Prim Rooter, and pretended you never left the library. That’s a lot of running for one guy.”

Merrot winced. “Ancestors know how I despise physical activities,” he said. “When the jinn left I figured the blame for the hourglass and the mess would be on you, so I tried to extract you from the library. Quite successfully, might I add.”

“I never thought I’d be grateful for someone chasing me off, but I am,” Glavia said. “I had a feeling it was taking you longer than it should have to find the books I asked for, even with the help of the catalogue. What I would like to know is what were you doing in the library in the first place. You came just before Spike and Razzle did, and I saw you listening on them. It’s almost like you were spying on them.”

Merrot shuffled his hooves. “Uh, I was actually following Wyrm-Spike.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You’re a dragon in the land of ponies, but you seem incredibly familiar with local customs. I’m a changeling, and this is my first time in Canterlot. As a matter of fact, this is my first time on the surface!” Merrot said. “I thought that maybe I could learn how to fit in the pony society by observing your behavior. I’m sorry if I offended you by doing so, but you are an excellent role model.”

Spike chuckled. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should feel mad at you for stalking me, or genuinely flattered.”

“I’ll leave the judgment to you.”

When Spike looked down he saw three pairs of eyes staring at him, all awaiting his answer. Even if he had felt offended at first, there was no point in holding a grudge against the changeling who, at any rate, only tried to fit in, and even risked his educational career by blatantly lying to Princess Celestia. Having done many stupid things in his life, Spike looked past that and realized how peculiar his company had become. Razzle, a rambunctious, highly volatile unicorn who attracted trouble wherever she went and would most certainly be the reason of his demise. Glavia, the most gentle griffon he had ever met who never raised her voice once, but did not hesitate to give her utmost when it was needed. Merrot, an awkward changeling who apparently had no idea how to live his life outside his homeland, and was probably facing all the issues of being a legal alien in Canterlot.

Only this morning Spike felt bad about not following Twilight’s precept on making friends. Now he had a chance to get three at once.

Not bad for a rusty dragon.

“You’d make a convincing librarian,” he said, reaching out to Merrot. “We’re good, but no more spying on me. On any of us. Deal?”

Merrot bared his long, shining fangs. “Deal!”

“Great!” Spike exclaimed. “So, the classes for today are over, and it’s Friday. Do you guys want to have lunch together? There’s a great place in the city called Red Cuckoo. They even have discounts for students like us.”

Razzle shrugged. “Sure, I don’t have anything better to do at the moment. All that jinn fighting made me hungry! You?”

Glavia cocked her head. “I don’t really know. There’s that essay for the Introduction to Spellcasting I should write. In fact, we should all write it. Do you really think it’s a good idea to spend our time roaming in Canterlot?”

“It’s about other races and their magic!” Razzle replied. “Professor Inkwell said to start with our friends, so you wouldn’t be roaming. You’d be doing research. Come on, the deadline’s on Monday! That’s two days!”

“Two days isn't that much,” she replied, first frowning but then lightening up. “Alright, count me in. Are you coming with us?”

Done with concealing the passage, Merrot nodded. “Well, I was told to properly reward you. Temporarily banishing you from the school grounds and ordering you to have a good time should be an appropriate punishment. Come to think of it, I’m willing to believe that’s exactly what Princess Celestia meant when she mentioned porcelain.” He rubbed his chin. “Myself, I feel that’s a chance to learn more about local customs, so I would love to join you. If that’s okay with you, Wyrm-Spike.”

Spike chuckled. “Sure it’s fine,” he replied. “And just Spike will do.”

“Very well, Just-Spike.”

“Close enough.”

With their heads full of dreams and spirits lifted by concordant laughter, the newly formed band of magical misfits headed across the school grounds towards the Promenade and the city of Canterlot. They couldn’t possibly know that Princess Celestia was watching them from the distance, smiling as she was smoothing the cover of the seventies-eighties yearbook so dear to her heart.

Author's Note

Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! :raritywink:

2 - How to Survive a School Trip (And Discover New Old Magic)

Museums sucked.

Yet they were still, for some reason, the second most popular destination for a school trip, right behind nature centers but ahead of historic sites with monuments erected in memory thereof. To experience the more hands-on learning and break their everyday routines, students and teachers alike would visit those places in hope of gaining new insight, but sometimes even the most interesting ones—like the famous Castle of the Two Sisters in the now tamed section of the Everfree Forest—weren’t enough to keep the youth occupied with the past.

Especially when the strange, four-wheeled machined parked outside presented them with a much more exciting glimpse of the future.

“Psst! Guys!” Razzle beckoned to her friends. “Check this out!”

Mindful of where their teachers were standing and in what directions they were looking, the trio broke away from the group one by one.

“We’re supposed to stay with the rest,” Glavia whispered, but quickly joined the filly by the window. “Oh. What are we looking at?”

“It’s called a car.”

“It doesn’t look like a cart to me,” Spike said.

“Car, not cart. C-A-R. It stands for a Crysteam Automated… uhm, Crysteam, Automated…”

“Roadster,” Merrot added. “It’s a crystal-and-steam-powered vehicle that doesn’t require carthorses to move. See that big box up front? That’s the crysteam engine. It consists of a water tank, pipes, four pistons and a special crystal circuit which keeps the magical energy flowing around the engine. The byproduct of this flow is heat that boils the water and transforms it into steam which makes the pistons—and, in consequence, the front wheels—move.”

The others watched him in awe.

“Did I say something inappropriate?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” Glavia replied, her stare stuck between the usual lost and straight confused.

“I-I apologize if that’s the case, and if it’s about the condenser I was just—”

“You’re such a nerd, Merrot,” Razzle quietly chuckled. “Long story short, guys: cars are awesome. The bad news is that you need a unicorn at the steering rod.”

The changeling shook his head. “That’s only partially accurate. You need any magic user to periodically recharge the circuit and handle any unexpected shifts in the arcane field while driving, but it doesn’t have to be a unicorn, specifically. But yes, the inventors were unicorns, so they probably designed it to serve their own needs and to fit their capabilities. In fact, I read that they made their first car from a juicer on wheels.”

Spike felt like having a mug of cider. A keg, rather. A mug wouldn’t sate him as he usually couldn’t resist the sweet taste of the Apple Family’s finest drink for long. His thoughts went back to the twin salespony brothers—once, they tried to take over the livelihood of his friends, the other time they came up with a supposed miraculous tonic for all ailments, but now they had apparently become legit businessponies. Good for them. The ponykind was exceptionally short-lived, but they had a natural drive to make the most of their lives, to give at least some meaning to their existence, and the likes of Flim and Flam desperately needed to make up for their questionable past.

It could have been worse. They could have deforested the land, scorched the sky, and started selling synthetic sunlight for two bits a bottle.

Glavia cooed in appreciation. “Mhm. So it’s a machine powered by nature.”

“Yeah, well, and magic,” Razzle added.

“Magic is a part of nature,” Glavia replied, eliciting a thoughtful frown from the filly. She then squinted outside where an elegant stallion opened the car’s door for his companion. “Merrot? I was just wondering. How do you know so much about it?”

“My Queen asked the exchangelings to keep our eyes open for any and all opportunities to help the Hive, so I’ve tasked myself with learning about the latest Equestrian inventions, especially those involving magic.” He stepped away from the window. “Cars are a miss, though. There’s little smooth enough surfaces underground for them to work, and it’s not like we’d start building roads, either. We can all fly, and instead of using wagons for transportation we just call nearby changelings for help. We could be done with our work before a car even starts.”

“Talk about efficiency,” Spike murmured.

“How about we talk about paying attention?” asked a pleasant, yet heavily accented voice from behind.

It belonged to Miss Vesper Bell, their thestral arts teacher who like them was participating in a SGI school trip for the first time. She was one of the two members of the staff who had neither the qualifications nor the toughness of character to refer to herself as a Professor. That lack of guts could have been her downfall, as she was—in Spike’s opinion—too soft on her students. She was a young idealist who still believed she could befriend them without imposing authority and demanding due obedience, but that wasn’t what was keeping her afloat.

Though she remained oblivious to the fact, Miss Vesper Bell’s exotic looks advanced her to the rank of a favorite teacher among half the boys in their class. The other half were obviously liars. As for the girls, Spike could speak only for Glavia and Razzle—the former liked her because she liked the subject because she excelled at it, and the latter loved that Silk Stocking was terrible at it.

“Well?” Miss Vesper Bell looked upon the three she could level with her stare. “The tour is not over yet. Please come, you can learn a lot of interesting things! And remember, there will be a quiz later on!”

Spike cracked a smile and chose to reward the mare. At least she was trying to act tough. For a pony.

“Of course, Miss Bell. We’re sorry,” he said. “Razzle, c’mon.”

“But there’s a real car outside!” the filly moaned and stuck her muzzle to the window.

The elegant stallion pulled something near the steering rod and popped open the flap covering the engine. As he walked back to it, his horn shined with saffron light.

“Miss Lulamoon…”

“Just a moment!”

“I’ll get her,” Spike offered and unceremoniously picked the filly up.

“Hey—whoa! No! No, no!” She reached out towards the window, but the window was getting away. She crossed her forelegs and threw her captor a grumpy stare. “Traitor. That was a one if a lifetime opportunity.”

“It really wasn’t. All you have to do is take a stroll through Canterlot to have two or three more.” He put her down just before they joined the others. “Besides, you promised not to whine, and I said I’d show you the thing. That was the deal. Honor it.”

Not only was curiosity great at reducing the feline population, but it was perfect for shutting adventurous fillies up. With a somewhat stagey offended expression, Razzle took her place between Glavia and Merrot in the last row while Spike knelt on one knee to not stand out too much. Though he could see the mare in the middle quite well, he found it hard to believe that the ex-editor-in-chief of a Ponyville student newspaper with, all in all, a Rich family background, had ended up working as a mere tour guide.

Diamond Tiara waited for the murmur to settle down and carried on with her tale.

“We call this chamber the Harmony Room. Before they were returned to the Tree of Harmony we’ve seen earlier, the Elements had been kept hidden inside stone orbs much like these here,” she said, pointing to a six-armed monument behind her. “Over sixteen years ago, a unicorn from Canterlot named Twilight Sparkle went on a quest to find the Elements. Just when she found this place and the first five Elements, the Mare in the Moon, or Nightmare Moon appeared and fled with them to the Single Throne Room. The two ponies clashed, but on her own and still without the final Element in her possession, our Twilight was quickly overpowered. Fortunately, she realized what the sixth, missing one was. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell your group what it was!”

“Magic!” the students replied as one.

“That’s right! With the timely arrival of her friends, Twilight wielded the most powerful magic known to ponydom, used it against Nightmare Moon and freed Princess Luna from under the dark spirit’s control. That was the first of many adventures in which she shared with her five fellow Element Bearers, but to tell them all would call for a much, much longer tour—and not just in here, but across almost all of Equestria… and even beyond,” she finished and beamed with satisfaction. “And that concludes our tour around the Castle of the Two Sisters. Thank you all so much for being such an excellent group, and thank you both Professor Little Tale and Professor Vesper Bell for bringing you to our museum. If you have any questions, please ask ahead!”

Spike raised his hand. “Is it true that you were in Ponyville during that Summer Sun Celebration? When Nightmare Moon first appeared?”

Diamond Tiara threw him a knowing stare. He winked back. Being more aware than others was so fun he just couldn’t help himself.

“That’s right,” the mare played along. “I was just a filly, even younger than you, still waiting for my cutie mark to appear. It was pretty terrifying to see Nightmare Moon when we were all expecting Princess Celestia, and then, when the sun didn’t come up as usual, a lot of ponies in Ponyville panicked. I remember I was super worried about my friend, but my parents didn’t let me go and see her. But the dawn came around eventually, so I guess all’s well that ends well!”

“But what about your friend?” Silk Stocking asked from her spot in the first row. “I certainly do hope she made it alright!”

Classic Silk. Always after connections and leverages while selling her act as genuine care.

“To be fair, Ponyville wasn’t in any immediate danger,” Diamond Tiara replied. “I tend to think of what happened as a really long, really weird night. Still, after that, Discord, Tirek, and other visitors we’ve had, my friend felt she owed Princess Twilight our well-being, so she decided to join the Royal Guard to make up for it. But again, that’s a different story.”

She looked around the group, but found no hooves, paws, or talons in the air.

“So, if there are no more questions…”

Little Tale stepped forth and took a pocket watch out of her vest.

“Alright, let’s thank Mrs. Tiara for the tour,” she said, to which the students cheered, some in genuine appreciation, others glad the tour was finally over. “Since it’s almost half past eleven, you have half an hour for yourself. We meet back at the Tree of Harmony at noon. Scratch that—five minutes before noon. You can visit your favorite exhibits again, go back to take notes, or buy some souvenirs. Souvenirs, not food, mind you! We have a dinner planned in Ponyville.”

The group was quick to disperse in all directions.

“Are you certain it is okay to set them loose like that?” Vesper Bell asked, troubled by the young ponies going out of her sight.

“Relax, Ves. They can handle themselves,” Little Tale replied. “In the meantime, now comes the part you’ll be enjoying the most. Benches, sunbathing, gossiping.”

“Thestrals do not sunbathe.”

“Then you’re lucky I’m in a mood for chit-chat. Come on!”

When everyone else left the scene, Spike and his friends gathered around the monument. Like in those intricate clockwork models representing the world, the central globe was surrounded with several smaller orbs placed on stone arms protruding from the middle. Instead of pretending to be the sun, moon, and stars, they all had symbols Spike knew all too well. A lightning bolt here, an apple a bit higher there, and the one he was looking for—out of his reach.

Merrot cleared his throat. “So, uh, what do you want to do now? Should we go and see the tapestries again? They were nice.”

Spike shook his head. “Pass. I promised Razzle I’d show her the entrance to a secret room.”

“There are secret rooms here?”

“Secret rooms, hidden passages, private chambers… you name it,” Razzle said. “A castle’s not a castle without these. Come with us—it’ll be fun!”

From the Harmony Room and through the entrance hall, Spike led his friends to the western wing. While the layout remained mostly unchanged, he could feel the breath of fresh air that had livened up the interior. The castle wasn’t just cleaned up but it had been completely renovated. There were new roofs where needed, new slabs of stone where the floor cracked, and even the old torch holders were shining with their now regained gloss. At the same time, it had become a museum and thus gained an obligatory gift store, informational labels, restricted areas, and of course a bunch of tourists.

Spike wasn’t sure if he liked this new take on the castle, as without dirty windows and cornered cobwebs it looked almost unnatural. Then again, there was probably no better use for this centuries-old pile of bricks. Twilight mentioned that once she had catalogued every book she could find and had taken the more precious ones to Canterlot or to her private collection, she scoured the castle grounds for magical auras and anomalies and used their energy to ward off the Everfree Forest in the vicinity. After that, she did another hundred and forty-eight things no one but her would be bothered to check.

In the end, the castle was restored, but since neither of the Royal Sisters expressed any desire of returning, perhaps giving it a new purpose was the way to go.

“Well, this is it,” Spike said as they entered the Western Reading Room. “That niche over there, with the manticore statue attached to the wall, see? There’s a room on the other side with a few more shelves but not much else. Sort of a backup room, I guess.”

“For all the books you couldn’t fit in here?” Merrot guessed.

“Or those you wanted to hide. But they’re all gone now, anyway. Twilight took them during one of her first Everfree Castle Clean-up Days.”

“How many such days were there?” Glavia asked.

“Way too many,” Spike deadpanned.

Razzle spun around like someone evaluating her new housing opportunities. Only a narrow path around the chamber was available for the visitors. Everything else—the niche, bookcases, two sofas, a flat table with a bowl of fake fruits in between—was sealed off behind a red rope stretched across a few silvered poles.

She nodded with content. “Nice, nice. This is a very nice place you’ve got here and I think I’ll take it. The fruity accent’s great, I really like it.” She stared at the statue with desire burning in her eyes. “So, how do we open it?”

“What? No-no-no, we’re not opening it. I promised you the entrance so here it is, but we’re not going in. You can’t just go in!”

“Okay. Noted.” She double-checked the empty corridors, then took a bold step under the ropes. “No offense, Big Guy, but so far you’ve only shown us some random wall with a cute pet. And I’ll only believe there’s other side when I see the other side.” She shrugged. “Ten seconds and I’m back, I swear. I mean, we all want to see the room behind it, right?”

Spike groaned. Some ponies rebelled against the rules because they found them limiting, others did it because they thought them unfair. Then there was Razzle Lulamoon.

“You mean you want to see the room behind it,” he said. “Guys, help me out here.”

Merrot frowned, calculating his options. “Well… I guess a little peek can’t hurt, and seeing the passage actually opening would validate your claim. For the moment, I have to agree with Lula-Razzle. You’ve technically shown us just a wall, and although we believe you, we have no way of knowing for sure. Of course we have to consider that should we be caught, we’ll likely end up in trouble. So, if you’ll excuse me”—in a burst of green light, he transformed into a pegasus of indistinctive looks—“we have a secret to uncover!”

“You two are irresponsible,” Glavia remarked.

Razzle threw her a grin. “Come on, girl. Be more adventurous!” Her horn lit as she swiftly scanned the niche. “Alright, so no unusual streams here. This place isn’t more magical than the rest of the castle, so it’s got to be mechanical.” She stomped her hoof on the stone floor, then knocked on the wall. “Hmm. My guess is it’s a moving wall. Maybe it slides down or to the side, or—” She looked back. The slabs in the semicircle within the niche were arranged differently. “Ha! It’s a rotating wall! Classic. The question is, in which direction does it turn? What do you think, Merrot?”

“I’m sorry, you’d have to ask someling from the Maker Caste to get an expert opinion on the stonework here.”

“I’ll take a non-expert opinion, then.”

“Well, realistically, there are two options, so I’d say… clockwise. That means you would want to stand here prior to entering.” Merrot took position to the left. “Right here. There has to be a hidden switch of some kind nearby. How about that torch?”

Razzle crawled from under the statue’s belly and made her way to the head. She reached out, but the cast iron holder didn’t want to be pulled, pushed, turned, or otherwise disturbed.

“No, that’s not it. But”—she knocked on the statue’s back, receiving a partially hollow sound—“that poor manticore hasn’t been fed for a while now. And I think I know what that means!” she said and flashed a smug smile across the room.

With his arms crossed, Spike rolled his eyes to not give the gloating filly any satisfaction, but also to hide his irritation. Razzle and Merrot were doing a much better job searching for the passage than he did in his youth. Of course it was Twilight’s fault, as she was absolutely certain that removing one of the heavy tomes would cause the wall to turn, but since she was too busy rounding up magic in the adjacent rooms, someone else had to waste his afternoon testing that theory.

Merrot took a step back. “It’s quite spacious. It used to be an alicorn castle, right?” He broke off the ground and hovered by the manticore’s head. “So assuming your leaders were of similar height as they are now, they would want the switch to be accessible. They are right-hoofed, correct?” He stretched his foreleg to the right and further adjusted his altitude. “It would be logical to put it somewhere…”

“Here!” he and Razzle said in unison, staring into the wide open jaw. “Maybe there’s something that needs to be pressed inside?”

“Or maybe it’ll bite your hoof off!” Spike yelled.

The changeling gulped and withdrew. “On second thought, Lula-Razzle, he may have a point. It may be dangerous.”

“I know. Awesome, right?”

On the other side of the room, Glavia whispered, “I think she may have issues.”

“Yeah? What was your first clue?” Spike mumbled back, then called out to the filly as she hung down from the manticore’s muzzle. “I mean, don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’ll be getting your peg leg! But, you know, do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Razzle’s ears perked at such blatant apathy. She chewed the warning over, chuckled, and faced the beast.

“I’m doing this.”

“Don’t do this! It’s not worth the risk!” Merrot cried on the verge of panic.

“I’m doing this!”

The manticore’s eyes were empty, deprived of mercy that would not be granted to those entering the ravages of its chops. Razzle slowly slid her hoof along the hard as stone teeth. She took a deep breath, then exhaled, and proceeded deeper. The cold tongue licking her foreleg was yearning for a meal, she could feel it, and the pointy tail that was lurking over was but one swing away from delivering its poison. Somewhere from beyond the sounds of her hammering heart and blood rushing across her skull, she heard Merrot lamenting something about too much tension.

Breath. Trickles of sweat ran down her forehead. Exhale. Razzle knew she couldn’t stop now—she could only go forward on this treacherous path. She stared into the throat’s void and the void looked back, trying to consume her courage. The filly did not blink, nor did she look away, only clenched her teeth and braced for the ultimate sacrifice in the name of exploration.

She shoved her hoof in as deep as she could.

Spike watched in silence. Glavia reached to her satchel. Merrot screamed.

“Hey, look, a lever,” Razzle said, pulled it, and jumped down. Her foreleg, safe for a few smears of dust, was unharmed.

“Oh, thank the ancestors!” Merrot sighed with relief, slumping to the floor.

The crank of the retracting lever became a prelude to the cascade of metallic click-clacks. They first came from the statue’s insides, then from the center of the wall, and when they went deep under, the entire niche trembled. Stone slabs and bricks rubbed against each other, taking Razzle and Merrot for a ride.

“That’s more like it! See ya!” Razzle exclaimed before the turning wall swallowed them whole.

An identical manticore dressed in cobwebs and dust replaced its twin.

Groaning, Spike trailed his hand across his face. “I guess I should have expected that.”

“I think you did expect that,” Glavia said as she sat beside him. “You could have easily stopped them if you wanted to.”

“And then put up with Razzle as she complains about another blown one-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the rest of my life? Thanks, but no thanks,” Spike said. “Besides, as a dragon, I can appreciate her want for independence, though I would never tell that to her face. It’s in her nature, and understanding one’s nature comes from one’s experiences, so taking away someone’s chance to experience something is just wrong.”

“Your kind values freedom, then.”

“Mhm. I was taught that unless someone messes with the place you live in, your stuff, or your family, you let them be. It’s sort of a code.”

“What if you knew for sure someone’s experience would lead them into trouble? What does your code say then?”

Spike leaned on a barrier pole and pondered. He tapped around the top several times, the jingle of his ring granting the focus to his thoughts. While both dragons and ponies had valid points on how to live one’s life, they both missed certain virtues that were so innate to the other. There was no true passion nor desire in the pony philosophy much like there was no genuine caring in the dragon ways.

“My code says we should be ready to care more than necessary,” he replied. “But it’s not strictly dragon. It’s a part I kind of figured on my own, you know what I’m saying?”

“In a way. Thank you for sharing.”

Spike gazed at the statue, awaiting its prompt movement, but such didn’t occur. He puffed his cheeks and exhaled slowly, but he gave up halfway and released his breath in a sharp sigh. “Alright, I’m done. Her ten seconds are definitely up,” he said and stepped over the barrier. “I mean, what’s taking them so long? There’s really nothing to see in there. I’ll get them.”

Glavia followed him without delay.

“Are you sure about this?” he chuckled. “From what I heard, you have a reputation of what they call ‘a good student’ around the SGI. Isn’t your code supposed to be about going with the rules?”

She gave him a mysterious smile and stepped into the niche. “You could say there are parts I’m figuring out on my own.”

Surprise made way for awe. When it came to Razzle and Merrot, Spike could generally tell what their way of living was about. He had seen that exact youthful bravado in other ponies, and he could understand Merrot’s anxiety when it came to trying to fit in. He could relate, as for the first couple of months among the dragons he too felt uncertain and lost. As a pony-raised outcast, he was met with distrust, sometimes scorn, and even when he was trying to grasp the widely accepted conventions, it didn’t always work out in his favor.

Glavia, however—that girl was something else.

Spike pulled the lever down the beast’s throat. Before the floor traveled its full course, he heard the excited voices coming from the other side.

“…correct, but why would anyone do that?”

“That’s the puzzle! Maybe Spike will know,” Razzle said and straightened up from a weird crouch. Two magical fireflies were orbiting around her sunflower-lit horn, providing enough light to guide Spike and Glavia to the center of the room. “Hello, fellow explorers! How nice of you to join us!”

“Playtime’s over, guys,” Spike said. “I’m all in for detours, but seeing that there’s nothing here but old—oh. Oh! Well, this is new.”

The shelves stayed empty as he had remembered them and the corners could still use a meet-and-greet with mops and a bucket of water, but what caught his attention was the alarming shortage of floor at his feet. With no stone slabs covering the ground, and no beaten earth underneath to stand on, Spike found himself on the edge of a gaping hole.

“I take it that your duties during the Castle Clean-up Days didn’t include filling up the cracks in the floor?” Merrot asked after a while.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Spike replied. “This definitely wasn’t here the last time I visited. Maybe the museum staff dug it when they were strengthening the foundations or something?”

“Unlikely. The state of the floor doesn’t support that theory.”

Spike raised a disapproving eyebrow.

“Sorry. What I meant to say is that there’s dust everywhere, but only dust. They would have to break the floor, dig, take away all the earth, clean the room, and then leave it for a good few years without ever fixing it back. Without coming back at all! It doesn’t make sense, unless the Workers in Equestria are simply that tardy.”

“Maybe they forgot.”

“Maybe they never came back from down there,” Glavia cut in softly, though it didn’t make the idea any less sinister. “Razzle? We could use some more light down there.”

“Sure thing!” the filly said and shot a charged clump of orange magic into the hole. Her unimpressive posture jerked back with the recoil that, judging by her squeak, surprised her, but not anyone else. Upon its much expected explosion, the clump sent magical fireflies all around the shaft. “Nice! It looks like it goes on under the castle. But if you think I’ll just turn back now and go watch the wall rugs and whatnots, then you—”

Spike clasped her muzzle. “Relax. This time even I’m game. Just let me go first, okay?” The filly tried to protest. “Listen! If whoever dug this tunnel is still out there, perhaps I’ll be able to bite off their faces before they bite off your hooves. And hey, if anyone asks, I’ll make sure you get all the credit and glory,” he proposed, releasing the grip. “So how’s that?”

“Glory’s overrated,” Razzle remarked. “But I guess having four hooves isn’t. Alright—go for it. Shout if you’ll need us. When you’ll need us.”

The initial drop wasn’t high. When Spike coughed some fire into his fist and tossed it further into darkness, the emerald glow revealed that the tunnel was going down a steep slope. Solid, but already decaying wooden beams were propped at fairly regular intervals, supporting the ceiling and giving shape to the narrow passage—often too narrow for the average pony to comfortably turn. There was also almost no gravel along the path.

It wasn’t anything Spike hadn’t seen before. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

“It’s safe! You can come down!”

The initial drop wasn’t high—for a dragon, that is. Glavia and Merrot offered to take Razzle down, and soon the group was traversing the mysterious corridor with the orange glow leaping over their heads.

“I wonder who set all these,” Glavia said.

“This isn’t changeling tunneling,” Merrot’s reply came from behind, “so my guess would be houndrels. They are the only other race I can think of that’s advanced enough to build something like this. Unless you have some other relatively smart underground species in Equestria?”

“Nah, it’s houndrels alright,” Spike confirmed. “Diamond Dogs, to be more specific.”

“Rude!” Razzle said. “You can’t just call them dogs. Dogs can’t talk, they don’t walk on two paws, and they don’t wear clothes. Some clothes, at least.”

“No, you don’t understand—there used to be a pack of houndrel miners near Ponyville who called themselves Diamond Dogs, so it’s fine to call them that. They were never particularly dangerous, if a bit annoying. They made a mistake of kidnapping a close friend of mine once,” he said. As he pondered upon his undeniably heroic youth, an arrogant gloat crept up on his face. “Not to brag or anything, but let me tell you, it did not end well for them.”

“Should I feel safe… or concerned?” Merrot asked.

Looking back, Glavia gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Spike would never hurt any of us.”

“I do count as ‘us’, right? Guys? Anyone? Come on!”

The tunnel widened and opened into a cave, the dead end of which greeted them with a dark, round slab. It was mounted behind two stalagmites which joined together by the ceiling akin to two upright parts of a skewed doorjamb. Unlike the solid rock walls surrounding it, the slab between the spires had a coarse texture and looked like it had been hewed someplace else, and only then brought down to serve its purpose.

Flexing his muscles, Spike pressed on. “Hnngh! No, it won’t move. It’s jammed. Hold on”—he tore down the veil of cobweb—“letters! Can I get more light here?”

GREETINGS
PONYS
BEEWARE

“Greetings ponies beware?” Merrot read the crudely carved words. “Beware of what?”

“Dangerous spelling no less,” Spike replied. “That first line… it looks different. Maybe newer. And look here!”

TAKE MAGICS BACK

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Razzle asked. “Did these guys first want to scare the visitors off but then changed their mind? What’s their deal?”

“Beats me. But if they were really that inviting, they wouldn’t have left the door closed.” He took a step back. “Any ideas how to move this thing?”

“We blast it open!”

“No!” Merrot and Spike exclaimed. The changeling shook his head. “I nominate two major reasons. First, a blast may destabilize the tunnel and bury us alive. Second, it may damage or even destroy whatever is to be found on the other side. Either of these two would hinder our chances at solving this mystery.”

“Alright, then we pick the lock!”

“What, you’re a locksmith too?” Spike teased.

Razzle summoned one of the fireflies into her bag and rummaged through its contents.

“No, but I have this paper clip,” she replied. “And also… no, just the clip. Hmm. I guess they weren’t joking about the hairpins in every mare’s bag.”

“Are you for real? You can’t just open stuff by shoving any thin thingy in.”

“You can open some doors that way. Seriously, you should read more.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Doors that have locks! Doors that aren’t a big chunk of rock! Rocks have no keyholes, no handles, no nothing!”

“Well, I guess I’d be fine with blasting it if that’s what you’re going for.”

“No! You just keep the lights on and I’ll think of something,” he said, pacing back and forth. “Let’s see… a tunnel made by Diamond Dogs… a door without a handle… ponies beware… and taking back the magic. Maybe it only opens for houndrels? Do you think you could change into one, Merrot?”

Glavia walked to the side and eyed a cavity that was partially obscured by the stalagmite.

“We are adaptive, but not to such degree and not without enough time,” the changeling replied, shedding his pony disguise. “We can change into forms we are inherently familiar with, that is into those from which we have received the emotive energy. We hatch because our eggs are infused with a sufficient amount delivered by the changelings of the Feeder Caste, such as myself, to a place called the Spawning Pools. Feeders work among the ponies on the surface, gather as much energy as they can, and then bring it down to the Hive. They leave most at the Pools and use the surplus to heighten the mood across the clusters.”

“Hey, I didn’t know that,” Razzle said, fastening her bag. “Does it mean that somewhere out there lies another changeling, uhm, queendom where they can change into griffons? Or dragons?”

“It is a theoretical possibility,” Merrot carefully replied, then hastily added, “B-but they’d be well hidden, practically impossible to find! Visiting Hive Chrysalis is one thing, but other changelings may not be as progressive as we are. So I’d advise against it.”

He presented his case for naught, for Razzle had already drifted away.

“It’s cool. Scary, but cool,” she mumbled and freed the bagged glint. “One thing at a time, though—we have to find the way in. Maybe there’s a secret password?” She took a deep breath and, stomping her hoof, demanded, “Open Sesame!”

Just like that, the stone slab tumbled inside the passage.

“What—you just—what?” Spike babbled on the verge of desperation. He shook Merrot by the shoulders and pleaded, “Please, PLEASE tell me you did that or else there’ll be no living with her!”

“But I did nothing!”

“I did,” Glavia said.

There was a silver string coming from the mist surrounding her talisman, sank in a cavity distanced from the now opened path. The string bulged, like there was a water balloon squeezing from the other side, and when it finally came through, it took shape of a fox which ran across the space to his mistress. Glavia’s eyes were covered by a band of magic which evaporated as she turned to the trio.

“I noticed a hole in the wall. I asked my spirit guide to investigate.” She caressed the fox, smudging his ethereal contours with every stroke. He grinned before turning into mist and returning to the talisman. “Furiel showed me what’s on the other side, and I noticed there was a stone beam blocking the way. I would have never moved it if it wasn’t for his help, to be honest, but together we managed.” She approached her friends. “Shall we?”

“Woo-hoo! Girl power!” Razzle bounced up and sent her fireflies forth.

The light illuminated it whole. From all around the cavern, grooves carved in the ground flowed towards the center where they joined into a perfect, one-foot-deep ring. There were gemstones embedded every now and then along those lines, many of which had internal cracks or chipped edges. The ring had even bigger gemstones, blacked from within and devoid of their shine. Within the ring stood a massive, barrel-shaped pedestal covered with a tattered veil.

“Hello? Anybody home?” Razzle called. “Hmm. Looks abandoned.”

“I think it’s some kind of a workshop,” Merrot replied, looking around. “Here, on the table! These are cutting tools. There’s a broken grindstone, too, and this bucket here is full of gemstone shards.”

“What about these lines?” Glavia said. “It feels like there has been a lot of magic going through them once. Can you feel it?”

Spike opened to the arcane forces surrounding him. The overall saturation across the cavern was low, but whatever particles remained were following the course set by the grooves, streaming from one gemstone to another. He conjured a little flare at the top of his finger and immersed it in the invisible flow. The flame burst and expanded without any effort on his side, capturing the particles that kept on coming. When it grew to the size of a tangerine, he doused the spell and stepped over the center ring.

“I can confirm that,” Merrot said, his horn losing some of its glow once he took it out from the stream. “Look. There are twelve lines in total. A single one, a pair, another single one, and another pair. There is a pattern.”

“And they all converge… here,” Spike said, throwing the veil away.

The pedestal’s flat top was embellished with a mosaic of gems of all kinds. Larger rubies and citrines constituted the most of it, but the picture wasn’t short of shining sapphires, emeralds and amethysts as well. Yet there were scars on this work of art—many gemstones were cracked, others matted, and others again broken into shards. One had a dark smudge underneath which likely remembered the outburst that had pushed the nearby stones away, thus ruining the carefully laid composition.

In the very middle, underneath a glass dome, a perfectly preserved bluish flower rose straight from the stone. It’s purple roots slithered between the gemstones, and its chalice was closed.

“I-I may require a reality check,” Merrot anxiously said, but the others were too dumbstruck to respond. “It’s a fake, right? Plants like that do need sunlight and water to survive, correct?”

“Unless they’re feeding off something else,” Spike replied. “I’ve never seen such a flower before.”

“I want to draw it,” Glavia said, taking out her sketchbook.

Razzle reached out to one of the loose gemstones, but was quickly stopped by just about everyone’s timely reaction.

“What? I’m behaving!” she said. “It’s just there’s still magic inside some of these gems, so perhaps Mr. Flower here feeds on that. Speaking of, you dragons eat gems, right? What would happen if you ate one that’s full of magic?”

“Depends how full, but nothing bad most of the time,” Spike replied. “Do you know those sweets that feel like they’re cracking and exploding once you taste them? Like little grains bouncing all around your mouth? It’s exactly like that. But I’m sure not eating these, and we also better not touch the flower, just in case.” He took a step back. “Alright, let’s take a look around. I don’t think our magic jewelers-florists are coming back anytime soon.”

“You guys go ahead,” Merrot said and stared at the mosaic. “I think the placing is not entirely random. I just need a minute.”

Spike followed deeper into what looked like the living quarters of the cavern. It was crude, but not uncivilized. A desk was made of two stone blocks and a door, but the only chair standing by it—a properly cut stump—was at least covered with a warming patchwork of cloths, the variety of which could contend with the Carousel Boutique’s secondary scrap room. A trail of dried ink led to a toppled vial that had missed its cork somewhere, and the improvised shelves-cavities overhead had scrolls and books all along.

He sent a flare to a patinated candlestick and leafed through the most worn-out tome.

“Months and years, but no days,” he murmured. “The first entry: November 1200.”

Quick shuffling and deal—in the year twelve hundred he was still a magically unconscious baby dragon and Twilight was still an antisocial nerd. November was just a few months into their move to Ponyville.

“Guys! I think I found a journal!”

“Read on!” Razzle yelled from inside a huge chest, then went back to rummaging and ruckus.

Spike cleared his throat and began, “When we once saw the White Lady while her hunt, we desired the power, but we not understand it. We wanted to use her to better mine, but she made a trick on us. Then pack came to take away from us. And gems. Many time later, we pact with the White Lady. Our most fire ruby in exchange her power. Then talk. The White Lady explained she give not her powers, but Diamond Dog showed more gems and his own. We asked. She us understand and discover ours as good. The name of power is magic.”

“That White Lady figure sounds ominous,” Glavia remarked between her masterful pencil strokes.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Spike chuckled, lazily turning the pages. “Let’s see. Our Diamond Dog had a knack for magic. Some pictures, tables, even charts.”

“No, that’s not it,” Merrot said under his breath. “Sorry? You were saying? Ah, yes, I have a question. How does the houndrel magic even work? You wrote an essay for Professor Ink-Well on that, right?”

“Yup. I went the easy way because there were no houndrel spellcasters in the pre-classical era, plus my roommate’s one, so I asked,” Spike said. “Alright, where do I start? You remember the Four ‘A’s model, right? Some houndrels can attune to the streams of magic but they can’t actively align them into spell patterns. However, they can influence the streams in a passive way by using all kinds of gemstones. I think rubies are supposed to make the particles turn right, sapphires left, diamonds to go straight up… but only if they’re flawless, otherwise it goes down. I think. You know what, don’t quote me on that.”

Glavia turned to the slightly confused changeling. “Think painting. Rather than using a brush to paint spell patterns, they fold the canvas so that the paint would flow in the right direction.”

“Exactly. Next comes the anticipation part, so the moment you’d normally picture the spell effect. They don’t do that, either. They see the result, they know what the outcome will be, but it doesn’t come from them.”

“They weren’t holding the brush, nor did they bring the paint,” Glavia added.

“After some time, the pattern imprints itself on one of the gemstones. The last ‘A’ is for activation, but that depends on the spell locked in one. Some activate right after the imprint is complete, other require you to throw them, crack them, or put next to some other stones. It takes time, but if there’s one thing I know about them is that they’re patient,” Spike concluded. “Did that help?”

“I liked Arva-Glavia’s version better. But here’s a thing—isn’t it just about putting gemstones in order and monitoring the arcane flow? Because anyone can do that!”

“It’s a little more complicated,” Glavia said. “You and I see the streams as a whole. They see individual strings in the colors of gemstones through which they have come. That’s why they can be so precise in their work.”

“Oh, okay. I guess that does make sense,” Merrot replied. “Well, now I know what I’ll be studying over the weekend. Their take on magic is fascinating!”

Pot-sounding clangs came from a nearby equivalent of a room. Razzle, who not for the first time was late for class, emerged like nothing happened.

She shrugged casually. “I mean, wow, have you guys seen their kitchen? It’s a mess, I tell you. Also, don’t go in there,” she warned them.

Spike snickered and returned to his lecture. “March 1201. August 1201. March 1202. Some of those aren’t even real entries. There are tables comparing gemstones, pictures, short notes… this one just says ‘we progress’ and the rest of the page is empty. And here’s a big picture of some tree,” he said. “Here’s something longer. Diamond Dog met with my brothers in beyond the Jaws. The walk was long and falling rock not helped the walk. The brother who know magic earlier showed Diamond Dog the way. Now Diamond Dog can magic too, and the magic can through him. Hide some of the gems instead of trade, because some help do magic. Maybe too help know the secret of the Great Tree on surface. Alright, I get the idea—the guys from around here didn’t know the first thing about magic, but they learned thanks to some other pack which did.”

“What about that Great Tree? Anything on that?” Merrot asked. “Or Great Flowers? Great Plants in General?”

“I’ll check some of the recent ones. January 1207, close enough. That’s the year when the Houndrel Confederacy was founded and the Exodus started,” he said. “After many tries Diamond Dog knows this: is not possible to choose another Fruit like is not possible to choose another way for the brothers. Every other decided itself what is to be. That is because Diamond Dog tried many time to decide how the Fruit should look, but the magic coming to the disagreed and go own way. Many tries for many moons, but the Fruit wants to be the Unlooked Sky. There’s a sketch of a sun right under.”

“A fruit?” Razzle asked.

“A sun?” Glavia inquired.

“Perhaps it has something to do with your leader,” Merrot said. “She bears the mark of a sun much like Lula-Razzle bears hers.” He gasped and took flight. “Of course! These lines also resemble a sun, or at least its popular depiction in art. The ring is the central discus, and the grooves are the sun rays!”

“I’ll just repeat after myself: a fruit?”

Spike returned to the drawing. It depicted neither a conifer, nor a tree with regular leaves. He could forgive the lack of colors and instead making the trunk blue and roots purple, but making the crown full of little, bead-like balls was questionable at least.

He put the book down. Could it be? The premise was slightly too big to wrap his head around it, but so would be any revelation of such magnitude.

“Well,” he slowly began, “if we assume that the Great Tree he’s talking about is the Tree of Harmony…”

Razzle’s eyes widened. “No. No way. There’s only six Elements of Harmony, everypony knows that.”

“If every pony knows there are only six to seek, then it only takes being a non-pony to keep looking for, or as it is apparent in this case, try growing the seventh,” Merrot said. “Given the rather slim interest in magic among the local houndrels, it would take a push from someone else. Someone with a truly cosmic knowledge of magic. That someone could employ one of the Diamond Dogs, experts on gemstones, to do the work for her.”

“Her? Who do you have in mind?”

“Well, we are standing on a big sun, are we not?”

“Princess Celestia isn’t like that,” Spike said, shaking his head.

“Are you certain?”

He withheld Merrot’s questioning stare, but pondered nonetheless. Princess Celestia and her sister were no longer bound to the Elements of Harmony, and those were, without a doubt, pretty handy devices when it came to solving problems. Even if he wasn’t a greedy dragon, Spike would feel good having another set—for emergencies. They weren’t something you could just buy at any next store, though. To create them, it would probably take power, resources, and as Merrot put it, a cosmic knowledge of magic. Princess Celestia had it all. Given her reign span, she had probably done a few unrevealed, necessary-from-a-certain-point-of-view things to keep the world from falling apart.

“No,” Spike answered after a while. “You’re right. I can’t say I’m sure.”

“Just because you are not sure does not make me right,” Merrot replied. “Again, I’m astonished by your lack of faith in your leaders! If you pass a judgment upon them, you should keep to it. Defend it if necessary,” he said and shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just us. Anyway, my theory may not be correct. Maybe it wasn’t Princess Celestia who put this plant here. Maybe our Diamond Dog took a piece, like a seed, from the Tree of Harmony and figured it out on his own.”

Glavia walked around the pedestal, giving her sketch final touches. “Do you think he was trying to grow his own Tree? It doesn’t seem he succeeded much.”

“He achieved something,” Razzle said. “Go to the last page! If he got stuck on something, maybe he’ll tell us what it was.”

Spike returned to the pedestal. “Last entry. It’s from May 1208. The brothers leaving for better tomorrow. The work on the Fruit not done, but when done, but when done, I will no longer be here. The roots are too deep to take with for the road, but it take more time for magic to food the Fruit. The brothers decided we go beyond to live on surface. No more cold. No more dark. I want to see the new land before I end, so I go too. I can be useful—the Great Pack may been built upon faith, but it will grow large on progress, both in magic and in tools. I go, but I don’t want to show ponies the Fruit or my work. I fear they will stop me going south. Take magics back.”

“That’s like, what, seven years of studying magic? It’s longer than school!” Razzle said. “He could’ve made a professor after that, but instead he just… left?”

“Building a better future for his own kind was more important to him than dwelling upon the past of another,” Glavia replied. “He left those gemstones hoping for the best. Many of them have burnt out.”

“Obviously he never had a car. You need to replace the crystals in the engine too from time to time. That’s why they say it’s easier to buy a car than to keep it running,” Razzle said. “Gah, if we only had enough spares to fix the conduit…”

For the first time this semester, Spike felt excited about studying magic. Working on an unfinished Element of Harmony was Twilight-level stuff, something he had been denied for far too long. Then again, there was a reason certain things weren’t meant to be trifled with by a first year student. Still, he was much more than just a first year student.

“We don’t need those,” he said. “Can’t you see? He set it all up to direct the streams towards the center. The flow of magic worked like a sprinkler that kept watering the flower, well, until it broke.” He picked up a cracked citrine and compared it against the garnet in his ring. His was much more battered. “Uhm, I mean, you don’t need gemstones. Unlike houndrels, we can send magic directly into the flower and feed it. I think.”

Razzle bounced up. “I’m game! Do you need help with that?”

“Spike and I should not involve ourselves,” Glavia cut in before him. “This is pony magic after all.”

“Good point,” the filly replied. “However, if it’s not conjuration I’d rather not touch it. You remember what happened last time. Merrot, it’s on you. Changeling magic is identical to pony, right?”

“Yes, pretty much. We’re only powered differently.” He walked around the pedestal. “Speaking of which, what we’re aiming at is sending a sustained beam of magic into the innermost part of the circuit. It is connected with the dome and probably the roots too, so it should transfer the energy further into the flower. What we don’t know is how much energy it will require, and since we are likely to only get one shot at this, I need to be sure.” He stopped by the filly. “Razzle, I need some love.”

Razzle blushed. “L-love?”

“That’s right. If you hug me, you’ll generate enough love energy between us on which I can feed and thus make my magic stronger!” he proudly said. “Excuse me, have I said something wrong? You seem bewildered.”

When the filly gave out but a squeak, Spike rolled his eyes. “Oh boy. Why it has to be me?” He crouched by the confused changeling and whispered. “You see, you guys feed on love energy, so you think of it as a sweet treat not unlike a slice of cake. But for the ponies it means, uhm, it means taking their acquaintanceship to the next level. It involves things like flowers, dates, and kisses. Mustaches too, sometimes, if they’re into it. For the ponies, love is a pretty big word, and you just made our little filly very uncomfortable.”

“Ancestors!” Merrot exclaimed. “Lula-Razzle, forgive me! I did not mean to sound insolent! Emotive—or better yet, positive! Positive energy, that’s what I should have used. You will generate positive energy.”

She rubbed her neck in further abashment. “Yeah, positive. I can be positive. Positively.” She raised her head and looked at Merrot, her cheeks burning. “Deal. But I have a feeling this will be awkward.”

“I apologize for that, but it has to originate from a pony and our choices are limited. Ancestors know this will be an awkward moment for me too.” He performed a quick inhale-exhale routine, then straightened up. “Alright. I am prepared to receive your hug. You can close your eyes if it helps.”

Razzle took a step into Merrot’s personal space and shyly wrapped her forelegs around him. “Okay… like this?”

“To be perfectly honest, I have no idea. I have never been hugged before.”

“Like never-ever? Not even on your birthday?”

“Uh, hugging is not that popular among our customs, so I would say no, not even once.”

“You poor thing!” Razzle uttered with her eyes wide open and a ‘to heck with all it’ expression painted on her face. “Everyone deserves a hug!”

With that, she gave her utmost.

Since only another changeling would be able to see and taste the love energy swirling in the air, Spike was left with watching the arcane field surrounding the two. For a brief moment, the particles were drawn between their touching chests where they boiled with the fury of a roaring waterfall. They wrapped themselves around some invisible bubble like they were carrying a cargo precious and dangerous alike. Merrot bared his fangs and hissed it inwards, causing the particles to disperse back into their irregular flow. His horn flared soon after, first with the vivid red miasma Spike had seen many times in classes, but then with a freshly added, glistening layer of deep crimson.

“Most invigorating! Uh, you can stop hugging me now.”

“I can? Oops! Sorry. I mean—it’s that chitin collar. Smooth, kinda,” the filly chuckled nervously.

“I can say the same thing about pony coats,” he replied, equally confounded. “I transform into your kind all the time, but that’s not even close to the real thing. It turns out the texture—” He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s me getting nerdy again. Please stand back!”

Spike lined up with Glavia. “These two, am I right?” he whispered through a sly grin.

“You may be right. How about you? You seem to know a lot about love.”

“Nah. I know a thing or two about being in love, and even more about thinking you’re being in love, but not love itself. There’s a difference.”

“Is there really? After all, you don’t need to see the bird to appreciate its singing.”

Razzle threw them a glance of disapproval. “Focus, you guys! Something’s happening, you can get all lovosophical once we’re done here!”

Spike and Glavia looked upon each other and snickered, but then raised emerald and silver flames respectively—just in case.

Streams of magic arced around the pedestal, taking gradually smaller circles as they closed in on the dome. The glass soon yielded under the torrential influx, cracking, allowing them to pass forth, through the rubies and citrines of the inner circuit and right into the flower itself. Awakened by the caressing strings of red and yellow energy, the flower’s chalice bulged like it was taking a long-awaited breath, then pulled away its petals to reveal a crystal token hidden within. It wasn’t much larger than a bit, but more scarlet than the most ripe of strawberries.

Twirling, the token shot up through the glass dome, shattering it. The heat gathered underneath radiated across the cave, turning the swirling magic into a pleasant, warm wind. The token grew, expanding its crystalline structure a fraction of an inch at the time into four cardinal directions akin to those set by a compass rose. Its edges blazed as the colors were changing, first with pure white, through yellow, and finally with ruby red to match the rest.

“It’s so bright!” Merrot shouted, shielding his eyes from the blinding light.

“It’s like staring at the sun!” Razzle yelled back. “You can cut it off now!”

“I already have!”

The crystal token was drawing magic on its own now. The grooves filled with raw energy seeping from the ceiling, the embedded gemstones exploded one by one as waves of magic crashed through them, but the token’s desire for power was insatiable. The magic kept coming faster than it could soak into its surface, so the excess combusted and wrapped it with a scorching layer of golden fire. The flames grew twice, thrice, then ten times as large and imposing, taking shape after the extraordinary trinket shimmering at their heart.

“Stay together!” Spike commanded, raising a shield bubble around himself and his friends who eagerly contributed towards sustaining it.

The magic burst violently over the pedestal, hurling the remaining gemstones and sending flames all around. The shield held thanks to the concerted effort, but the rest of the cavern was not so lucky. What was paper turned to ash, what was made of wood was set alight for few moments, and whatever metal tool had been left on the tables was now melting. When the fire retracted and collapsed into itself, a high-pitched, screeching sound not unlike the cry of a phoenix was heard—or so it resembled one.

The fires ceased. The token was gone. All that remained was a smoldering mess.

Razzle conjured a single firefly to make up for all those which had been consumed in the blast.

“Everyone alright?” Spike asked.

“I am well,” Glavia replied calmly despite her trembling.

Merrot coughed thorough the smoke. “I’m—fine! What was that? Just what on depths was that? Did we just create an actual Element of Harmony?”

“More like we turned it on,” Spike said. “Though I’m not sure we should have. It’s just—whoa, that was something.”

“It’s not here!” Razzle ran back to the pedestal. “But it looked exactly like Princess Celestia’s cutie mark. You were right, Merrot—it had something to do with her!”

“Are you sure?” Spike took out an Equestrian bit. “Look! This is Princess Celestia’s cutie mark. It has eight streaks coming from the middle. That thing had more like four.”

“I’m telling you it had eight, though the four main were longer, that’s for sure. I don’t know about you, guys, but for me that’s close enough.” She jumped on the pedestal and proudly announced, “What we saw must have been Princess Celestia’s seventh, secret Element of Harmony. Ha! This is the best museum trip ever!” She jumped down, clearly having trouble containing herself. She kept trotting back and forth in amassing excitement. “I’ll have to visit the Archives soon. Maybe even today! Surely there’s a book or a scroll or a something treating about how the Princesses used the Elements in the past. Do you thing that’s a good place for a start? I think it’s a good place for a start.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Right, go for another research. It’ll end like your last one. You gave up on searching for your mysterious unicorn after, what, two weeks?”

“I haven’t given up. I am taking a well-deserved break to analyze the gathered data. Oh! I just realized! The White Lady from the Diamond Dog’s journal had to be Princess Celestia. Princess Celestia taught them magic!”

“No, wait, you got it all wrong!” Spike laughed. “Remember what I told you about my friend who got kidnapped? She’s a white unicorn and she can make a good use of the gem finding spell. The White Lady part definitely means her.”

“Is your friend a powerful spellcaster?” Merrot asked. “Skilled enough to pass her knowledge onto others?”

“Well, uhm, not exactly. She’s a fashion designer. I don’t suppose anyone would ask for her tutoring when they had Twilight around the corner.”

“So it could be Princess Celestia,” Glavia said much to the filly’s merriment.

“You are not interested in the hard facts I’m throwing at you, are you?”

“Ha! I’m an explorer!” Razzle exclaimed. “In this business we don’t let silly things such as facts distract us!”

Spike stood defeated by his friend’s unquenchable enthusiasm. There was just no reasoning with her when she was at her best-slash-worst.

“You know what, how about you just explore the way out of here? The others are probably already waiting for us.”

She stepped before the group with a grin. “Sure thing! Follow me!”

“The exit is the other way,” Spike deadpanned.

Unshaken, Razzle pivoted back and marched with the same smug joy on her muzzle. “Then we’ll go the other way. Onwards!”

Spike looked around the cavern one last time. The smoke was quick to disperse with the cooling draft, revealing the smoldered pedestal. It didn’t look pretty, but he wasn’t sorry about the mess and any guilt he could possibly have he threw away. For once, the dragon mantra felt fitting—it just wasn’t his lair, it wasn’t anyone’s lair at this point, so there was really no reason to care. His only regret was that the flower had been obliterated with the rest of the gemstones.

Of course it was never about the flower. Spike couldn’t tell what happened to the strangely shaped gem or whether it really was the Element of Harmony. If it didn’t break, and he was pretty sure it didn’t, because unleashing that amount of magic would have been fatal, then it must have sent it somewhere, but where to was beyond anyone’s guess. He didn’t worry too much about it. Dabbling in high-end magic was fun and all, but it wasn’t his place to go on some silly dragon quest, no, those things were better left to Twilight. She loved cryptic journals and she probably had more than enough time to be bothered, but Spike almost wished his next assignments to involve long, boring, and most unadventurous treaties.

After all, he agreed to start with the basics.

* * *

Was she ready for this?

That question had been haunting Twilight ever since she had the opportunity of watching young and gifted individuals during their enrollment try-outs. They all had skills, there was no denying that, and those who had been accepted had a talent too, so it would be a terrible loss if they couldn’t make the most of it during their school years. Regrettably, with several classes and dozens of pupils, the professors couldn’t afford to work with each of them individually, but at the end of the day that was the only way the magical aptitude could flourish. At least that’s how Princess Celestia was running things, whether it was about Twilight, Sunset Shimmer, or likely many talented unicorns before them. Two were needed to play that game: the teacher and the student.

Twilight had certain skills in the art of spellcasting, there was no denying that either. The mark on her flank was the stamp on her talent certificate, and she knew she was going to have to deal with the prospect sooner or later, but given the choice she would rather go with the latter. It wasn’t like she was afraid of anything—no, sir, there was nothing to be afraid of!

Except maybe having to prepare a challenging but still balanced and reasonable curriculum. And of course reorganizing her entire schedule of daily routines to include yet another someone else’s timetable. And let’s not forget about taking full responsibility, again, for someone whose personality was only taking its shape. She could picture it, but at the same time it was all so new, unfamiliar, uncharted, unknown, and unlikely to succeed. If she didn’t hate it, she sure was frowning meaningfully at the concept.

Considering the above: she felt kinda ready for this.

“I guess it was alright,” Silver Spoon said. “It wasn’t a night to remember, but it wasn’t terrible either. We went bowling. He’s a bit of a bowling freak, so I’d say he’d planned to go to a place in which he’d have the high ground, so to speak.”

“Indeed,” Twilight murmured back, her thoughts elsewhere.

“I don’t even like bowling that much, but okay—I can respect that. Everyone’s have their share of weird hobbies, myself included, so it’s definitely not a deal-breaker. Especially since he’s a solid eight. I mean, what a dreamboat!”

“Mhm.”

Silver Spoon eyed her inquisitively. “Also, Princess, since Discord is dropping by tomorrow, do you want me to turn the furniture upside down or will the simple banner swap for honey-soaked streamers suffice?”

“By all means, please see to it.”

Twilight bit her tongue one mindless response too late. Discord was on vacation with the Pies, probably not even on this earth if him saying he’d take young Cotton Candy’s wish for an otherworldly trip to the heart was anything to go by. According to Pinkie Pie, all reservation were on him as well, so he couldn’t be possibly dropping by until at least after next week, which assuming that Silver Spoon was not terrible at her job meant Twilight had just spaced out. Double-check—she looked around, wondering how did she find herself inside the Royal Castle already. The last thing she remembered clearly was getting into the carriage, removing her beautiful, barely acceptable boots, and drifting away.

Case closed.

She turned to Silver Spoon with an apologetic smile, glad that at least one of them was paying attention.

“I’m sorry, captain. I must have been only half-listening,” Twilight admitted. “You were telling me about your date. With Strike, was it? How did it go?”

The mare looked away. “Oh, you know. Nothing worth mentioning.”

“I take it there won’t be another with that gentlecolt?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? It’s complicated,” she replied and gave her most melancholic sigh. “Is the search for your one true love supposed to be that difficult?”

Twilight aged momentarily. Though she had that particular stage of life already behind her, she didn’t feel competent enough to guide anyone through it. Where’s Cadance and her expert supportive attitude when you needed it?

“The pursuit of love is like a journey to a place about which you’ve only heard, but have never seen,” she said. “About which everyone asks, but no one gives real answers. It is a journey of heart on which you head out alone, but nonetheless together with dozens of others seeking for the same. Sooner or later, you cross paths with them and discover that some have similar expectations regarding your destination, so you travel along. Sometimes you go astray, but then you find out that someone else has gone your way too. And when you are lost together, it is when you find each other.” She smiled to herself. “In the end, love is just the matter of bumping into the right pony one too many times.”

“Statistics. Great. So helpful,” Silver Spoon retorted, then groaned. “My apologies, Princess, it’s how I cope. I can tell you have enough on your head, you shouldn’t have to bother yourself with the love life of a guard. Sorry.”

“How about I bother myself with the life of a friend?”

Silver Spoon’s pace became unsure, sluggish, until they both stopped.

Twilight put her hoof on the other mare’s armored shoulder. “It has been over a year since you were assigned to me, Silver. I am proud to have you as the captain of my guard, but I would be honored if you considered me your friend. If there is anything you’ll ever wish to talk about, even if it’s not related to my safety but to your well-being instead, do let me know.” She leaned in with a smirk. “Just make sure I’m all ears first, if you will.”

“Thank you, Princess. I-I appreciate that.”

Twilight took a step back into her utmost royal stance, giving Silver Spoon space to regain her composure.

“Now—captain—if you would be ever so kind and help me dress up.”

“You mean, right now?” Silver Spoon grabbed the suitcase off her back. “There’s still another corridor before we get there, Princess.”

“So there is, but this is an official visit. Whether I like it or not, and for the record I don’t, they are the part of my ensemble, not only proper but also required for the occasion. I have to wear them and I will do so proudly.”

Twilight put the hoof boots on. Surprisingly, they were not terrible in touch. Silver Spoon must have secretly tinkered with them, maybe asked a local blacksmith to make the inner part smoother. They were still a pain, but at least not unbearable.

“Speaking of friends and relationships,” Twilight said as they set off, “how’s Diamond Tiara faring these days?”

“Better now. She took it hard when her marriage went to shreds, but I think she’s worked it through. Lately she’s been travelling a lot, checking if the museums and amusement parks are in a good shape. She sometimes stays longer and part-times as a tour guide not taking a single bit for it.”

“She volunteers?”

“Well, you know. They say that the Marelin Amusement Group is what defines today’s entertainment, and as the member of the board DT’s probably fine. I think she’s just really into history and culture. Wouldn’t tell—back at school she surely wasn’t.”

Upon reaching the large, double doors, the mares were greeted by a Royal Guard unicorn of a shapely, bearded chin and a deep voice.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle. You are expected,” he announced, but his eyes quickly escaped towards Silver Spoon. Instead of opening the doors as he was supposed to do, he glanced at her, did a double take, then smiled broadly, albeit with a dose of uncertainty. “Warframes?”

Silver Spoon beamed and laughed. “Wave! Back from Yakyakistan, I see?”

“You see what you see, but what I see? Congratulations on hitting the rank-up!”

“Yeah, technically you should be saluting me right now,” she chuckled, to which the stallion straightened up like a string. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, may I present Lieutenant Wave Heart, the finest warder I know.”

“I am pleased to meet you, lieutenant,” Twilight replied, and when he took a deep bow to her outstretched hoof, she mouthed towards the other mare, “ ‘Warframes’?”

Silver Spoon’s cheeks reddened. “That’s how they used to call me back at the Academy.” She upped her glasses. “They once asked me what would I do if the lenses fell off in the heat of battle. I replied I’d still see the bad guys well enough to strangle them with just the frames. So then they nicknamed me and made me the hero of impossible, made-up war stories. We shared a couple of laughs and in the end the name stuck. Fun times.”

Twilight felt bad for not knowing that detail.

“I see,” she replied. “Well, captain, lieutenant, I believe the Princess and I will be more than safe beyond these doors. You two can take a few minutes off if you so desire.”

Wave Heart shook his head. “You are most kind, Princess, but the protocol clearly stands that the royal chambers cannot be left unguarded at any time.” He looked around. “If only—oh, I’ve got it—Warframes, quick, do your snooty face!” he said and beckoned at a bulky guardspony who popped up from a nearby corridor. “Hey, hey, buddy! I need to step off for a moment. The change is in twenty, fill it up for me until then, alright?”

“Aw, but I have just finished my gate shift!”

“Fifteen. I’ll tell the swap to come early,” he said, but the other stallion didn’t seem convinced. “Uh, listen, the captain here—who is in a pretty big hurry and also outranks you and me combined, mind you—has requested my immediate report on, uhm, the tactical situation in Yakyakistan. I have to get some files from the post, so I need a replacement. Technically I could issue an order, but I’d rather take a volunteer.”

Trapped between the cold and pleading stares of his superiors, the guard had no choice.

Wave Heart gave him a punch. “Awesome, you’re the best, I owe you one. What’s your name again?”

“Private Root Primer, sir,” he replied and proudly clanged his breastplate.

“Are you a gardener, private?” Silver Spoon asked.

“Not anymore, ma’am! But fighting crime is much like fighting weeds. You have to root it out!” he said, profoundly amused with his own joke. He watched Silver Spoon and Wave Heart trotting down the corridor with a smirk on his muzzle, but once he turned around and faced with the waiting Twilight, he became dead serious. “Oh, the doors, right!” He bowed. “Princess.”

Twilight took a sharp breath. Silver Spoon was her friend. Wave Heart was Silver Spoon’s friend. The two would likely befriend the guard who closed the door behind her. There was friendship all around Equestria, so why was it so difficult to think of the pony before her as a friend?

“Princess,” she greeted her mentor.

Princess Celestia put away the magazine she was reading—the latest issue of Cosmare, of all things—and gave the other mare a heartfelt hug.

“Twilight, my first and only name is Celestia. How many times will I have to remind you of that?”

“At least once more, Princess,” Twilight replied and walked to a fiery bird seated on a golden perch. “Hello, Philomena.” She petted the phoenix who squawked happily in response. “Of course I mean no disrespect by keeping to the conventionalities despite your earlier wish. Wishes,” she added, realizing that the topic had been surfacing once every year on average since her mid-twenties. “It’s not something to get over with, either, although you’d think it would be so. I guess… I like when everything around me has its place. B-but that’s not to say I want to put you in any specific place, that’s not what I meant.”

She sighed and smirked before giving the response she had received earlier.

“My apologies, Princess, it’s how I cope.”

Princess Celestia patiently heard her through her rambling.

“You do seem a little tense. Perhaps something warming will help if you’re interested?” she said and invited Twilight to a short table which had a proper tea set already prepared.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“This blend I have received quite recently. The Equestrian Marine Biology Association dried one of the seaside plants growing near Halcyon Bay called the wreathgrass and mixed it with your regular green tea.”

“Wreathgrass? I’ve never heard of it.”

The teapot hovered in Princess Celestia’s magical grasp, pouring the steaming liquid into the cups standing on a silver plate. “It does not surprise me. I signed the official naming decree only this morning.”

“So… is this wreathgrass any good? Does it taste like sea?”

“See for yourself.” Princess Celestia put the teapot away and looked into two equally filled cups. “Oh, silly me, I forgot about the filter. Would you prefer the one with less or more dregs?”

“It doesn’t really matter as long as they stay down. More please,” she said and reached for the cup, but the alicorn raised her hoof.

“Please, allow me to play your host today. You should know that the wreathgrass tea is a bit bitter on itself. I highly recommend sweetening it first. White, brown, or crystal?”

“Brown is fine, thank you.”

“Loose or cubed?”

“Loose,” Twilight replied, by now really enticed by the divine aroma tickling her nostrils. “One flat teaspoon, thank you.”

Princess Celestia complied with Twilight’s every wish and added one flat teaspoon of brown sugar into a cup that had more dregs sinking into the pale yellow-green depths. She moved the plate closer to her. Finally, Twilight was but a touch of a tongue away from tasting the warm goodness. She knew that the other alicorn was, to put it lightly, the most ardent fan of tea in Equestria, but making the ritual-scale ceremony out of serving it was—again, to put it lightly—a pretty darn overkill.

“Biscuit?” Princess Celestia asked.

Twilight was glad she hadn’t already picked up the cup, because else she would threw it at the nearest wall. Princess Celestia was testing her! She was intentionally trying out her patience, asking questions that didn’t matter in the long run and were only putting the essence of the experience further away. Was she counting on Twilight to slip now, after all those years of being ever vigilant in her presence? She should know better than to expect her most faithful student to burst into flames like some filly.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Twilight replied with a smile and grabbed the treat, but put it down in favor of taking her first sip.

It was terrible. Insipid. It was absolutely, abhorrently undrinkable. Yet Princess Celestia didn’t seem to mind. Was that a practical joke or a challenge to overcome?

“How do you like it?” she asked.

“It’s definitely something original, though I’m not sure I would still call it a tea, but perhaps we’d have to discern teas from other hot beverages first.”

Princess Celestia took another sip, so Twilight mirrored her move. Ugh. The bitterness of wreathgrass was beyond anything she had ever tasted. It was a disgrace to the entire family of teas.

“The aftertaste is quite refreshing, wouldn’t you say?”

As far as swallowing a balsam pear wrapped in nettles and dandelions was, indeed. Twilight put the cup away as changing the topic was her only chance of survival.

“Princess, I was meaning to ask you something. I understand that another opportunity arises in the east, in the Griffon Kingdom, to spread Equestria’s influence. And I mean the regular influence this time.”

“Indeed.” Princess Celestia took another sip without a slightest wince and put the cup away as well. She helped herself to a biscuit. “Our standings with the Kingdom have never been better. We are lucky that King Gostiel stayed open-minded to our message despite the opinion of some of his High Talons. Obviously he will need time to wrap up certain matters after his late predecessor, but I expect an official invitation from him in a few months,” she said. “Just like around Queen Chrysalis, I want you to represent Equestria, but like you said, through regular means this time. The art of diplomacy is not flawless, but it should suffice in this case.”

“When I go, I think it will be an excellent learning opportunity. I was thinking… perhaps it could be the opportunity for someone else besides myself.”

“Do you mean Starburst, perhaps?”

Twilight laughed. “Gosh, no! She has her hooves full with the second grade. Do you know how much homework she’s getting? I wasn’t getting that much, and you know I was participating in all extra credits. On top of that, we asked Rainbow Dash for some extra flying lessons for her, and she’s also going through a phase of being really into the Royal Guard and all things related. I think she has enough teachers to need another one.”

“Someone else, then?”

“Yes, the thing is… When you first decided to take a student in magic, how did you know that you were ready? How do you know that the time is now, that you’ve accrued enough knowledge, skills and competences that you can start passing them onto others? What would constitute a good student for someone like me? What if I choose one but my choice turns out wrong? What if I won’t be a good enough mentor for someone entrusting me with their education and pretty much their future as well?”

Princess Celestia didn’t respond immediately.

“Are you enjoying your tea?”

“Yes, Princess, it’s wonderful, but that’s not what I—”

“Know that you will do me no disrespect if you say what you really think. Quite the opposite, I would very much appreciate your honesty on the matter.”

Twilight did not roll her eyes only because she knew it would be impolite. To fight off the urge, however, she went through a hailstorm of internal twitches and spasms. She breathed out the tension slowly.

“Frankly, it tastes terrible and I consider issuing an edict to ban it around Ponyville. Its only redeeming quality is the aroma, but one could also call it false advertising.”

Princess Celestia took another large sip, held it in her mouth, tasted it in its entirety, then swallowed it. Wincing, she stuck out her tongue in a particularly undignified manner. “Bleh. It really is unappealing, is it not?” she said and chuckled lightly at her student’s surprised face. “Yes, I suspected you wouldn’t like it. There are few ponies who would. But you have made a brave choice of tasting it even though you could as well decline my invitation and go straight to the matters troubling you. You’ve also made a few minor choices, like which cup would you take or how much sugar would you add.”

“It doesn’t matter how much crystal sugar I would toss in, it’s the wreathgrass that’s killing it.”

“But the scent was inviting, was it not?” Princess Celestia replied. “You never know the taste before you try, much like you never know if the consequences of your choices will be good. A teacher may choose a student who’s promising in every aspect, but that doesn’t mean one will not fail the other. You say the amount of sugar doesn’t matter—yes, and all those questions I’ve asked you couldn’t possibly change the flavor, but they did hold you from experiencing it. And right now, it is only you who is standing between you and your student.”

Twilight looked into her cup. It indeed looked better than it tasted.

“So you’re saying that I should stop asking questions whether I’m ready or not and just go for it?”

Princess Celestia smiled. “You are ready, Twilight. You have always been. You only have to take this first step, make the choice, and work your way from there.”

“I hope you’re right,” Twilight said, still unsure. As she wondered how on earth was her mentor putting the ‘tea’ back in ‘teaching’ so easily, she realized something funny. “There is a flaw in your logic. Respectfully.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Yes! The moment I realized the taste I wanted to throw it away. Following your metaphor, I can as well give up on my student at the first sign of trouble.”

“And bereave yourself of all the wonderful things you two can achieve together once you’re past the worst?” Princess Celestia replied. “Wreathgrass has wonderful warming and relaxing capabilities, but it takes time. I advise patience, now and in the future alike. Give it a few minutes now, and remember to give enough in the future.”

Twilight shoved another biscuit into her mouth. All that philosophizing was making her hungry. “But how do I do that? How do I find my student?”

“I believe that schools are the institutions in which you will find the most. May I recommend starting with the SGI? There are many young and talented spellcasters there, some of whom I had the pleasure of acquainting.”

“That’s still over a hundred candidates to choose from. Logically, I should consider only the most talented ones, the most hard-working and those with the greatest potential. But grades measure none of that.”

“You want to be fair in your judgment, it is commendable. I propose a solution that will bring the best out of them while not necessarily forcing them to impress us with their academic prowess. I propose a competition.”

“Like the Moonstone Cup?”

“Goodness, no. The Moonstone Cup is a dangerous event on a much greater scale and in all of the SGI’s history there has been maybe a handful students who would survive the preliminaries, let alone compete. I am thinking of something smaller, but grand in its own right, here in Canterlot. After all, choosing a student for the Twilight Sparkle calls for flair, wouldn’t you agree?” Princess Celestia said, to which Twilight grinned vainly. “There has been a certain tradition at our school, a talent show, so to speak. It’s called the Capricious Comet Contest.”

Twilight nodded. “I read about it in old yearbooks. When I was younger, I really wanted to participate. Why was it discontinued?”

Princess Celestia’s stare became distant. She left the table and walked around the chamber.

“I was reluctant at first, but Luna convinced me that it is time to reanimate that tradition. A lot of good things have come out of it in the past.”

It didn’t take perfect cognition to notice that Princess Celestia wasn’t answering Twilight’s question, but the mare didn’t push it. She had known her mentor long enough to know that if she wasn’t telling something, she either didn’t want to talk about it, or the time for discussing it had not yet come. Nevertheless, she couldn’t hide her more pony side—the side that was seemingly carrying a burden—but Twilight was glad it was still visible. Seeing the leader of all ponies being and feeling like one of them was making her that much relatable.

With her expression full of mirthful serenity, Princess Celestia leaned in over Philomena and let her nuzzle against her cheek.

“I expect to be occupied with certain elementary issues in the coming months,” she said. “This is why I would like you to oversee the preparations for the contest.”

“I see where you’re going with this,” Twilight replied. “You want to set up a competition and have me accept the winner as my protégé. That’s what this is about, right?”

“No. I wish you to be as close as possible to the participants so you could take your time to consider them.” Princess Celestia giggled. “Though I admit, announcing the reward in form of your tutelage would be most amusing.”

Twilight snorted and joined in petting the phoenix. Philomena yawped happily, flattered by the attention she was getting.

“Amusing, maybe,” the mare said, “but it could as well cause some candidates to resign right off the bat. I imagine not everyone would be thrilled to spend their time with me personally. I may be the Princess of Friendship, but that doesn’t mean I can or will get along with whoever I meet. It took me some time to realize, but friendship isn’t always the best of ways. Sometimes it takes love. Sometimes it calls for being just colleagues, coworkers sharing a mutual goal.”

“Indeed. Equestria may have been founded upon friendship, but it was no friendship that began it all. It was merely a choice to seek out better life.”

Twilight walked to the window feeling wonderfully warmed and relaxed all of a sudden. She stared at the straight line of hustle and bustle cutting through the afternoon cityscape. Somewhere out there, there was someone with incredible potential only waiting for her guidance, something she both could and would provide with all her heart and soul. If her teacher was saying that she was ready and—logically—a teacher was wiser than a student, then she, as a student, should accept Princess Celestia’s judgment. If she believed in her, then perhaps Twilight would be wise to show a little faith herself.

She was most certainly ready for this.

“I will personally oversee the preparations to the next Capricious Comet Contest, and while I’m on that”—she paused, pondered a while longer, then ultimately nodded to seal the deal—“I will find myself a student.”

Author's Note

Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! :raritywink:

3 - How to Spend a Day Off (And Learn the History of Magic)

Razzle scratched her head in a “what?” sort of wonder.

Though she had come to the right address, the place didn’t look like anyone’s house. The signboard over her head clearly stated Gabriel’s Emporium which, judging by the shopwindow, was some kind of a general goods store. The filly looked to the two ends of Ivory Street soaked in the cold, morning drowsiness, failing to suppress a yawn. For the first time in the history of weekends, she had woken up before ten o’clock, but her heroic deed was going to go in vain if she had ended up in the wrong place.

She peeked through the window again. Perhaps she got it wrong. Maybe Glavia just wanted to meet up here and didn’t mean she lived anywhere between the shop shelves.

“Up here,” she heard a calming voice from the overhead window. “Hello, Razzle.”

“There you are! I almost thought I got the address wrong! Why did you want to meet up at a store?”

“I live upstairs. Please, come in. I’m coming down.”

Inside, Glavia led the filly around the counter and through the beaded curtain to the backstage of the store. It felt exciting in a way, as regular customers weren’t supposed to walk where only the employees were allowed to go, but the charm waned when the store turned into a typical house with a corridor, some doors, and a staircase leading straight to Glavia’s room.

The decor struck Razzle with its simplicity. Just a bed, desk, chair, and a single cupboard standing next to a chest, none of which looked new but matched nicely with the vintage old feel of the floor.

Then she turned around.

The entire wall had colorful drawings pinned to it. They featured a variety of topics in great detail, from still nature through the architecture of Canterlot up to the citizens and their everyday lives, often depicted as seen by someone sitting on the rooftop level. Although there were no two similar pictures anywhere across the dozen rows of different scenes, they all had one thing in common. They were expressive and colorful, exploding with a variety of hues bringing the captured moments to life. Among the white sheets of paper one drawing was framed. It presented Glavia herself in the company of a pegasus and a thestral and must have been especially important to her, for the amount of artistry poured into it made it hard to tell from a photograph.

“Did you make all these?” Razzle asked, to which the griffon nodded. “I knew you were into drawing and stuff, but this is… just wow.” She walked along the wall. “Let me see… Chariot Plaza on a rainy day. A baker taking the buns out of the oven. Oh, and here’s the jinn at the library, nice one. Shouldn’t you be taking commissions from the Princesses, or, I don’t know, everyone? You could probably find a lot of high society ponies who’d love to decorate their houses with these. Oh! That’s the Gibbous Moon Plaza, I live nearby! Like, here.” She placed her hoof right on the Royal Castle in winter. “Well, not here here. But seriously, you should have a cutie mark in drawing.”

“Thank you for saying that. But drawing is a hobby and I would like to keep it that way. For now. After school—we’ll see.”

On the desk, Razzle found a stack of unfinished pictures. “Hey, is that the Element of Harmony you were drawing the other day?”

“It will be my fifth or sixth take,” Glavia replied. “There just doesn’t seem to be a crayon red enough to fully represent the ruby shine. Here, and here”—she pointed to the sides of the gemstone—“I’m thinking about adding us and the boys, looking over the pedestal. It shouldn’t be too hard. I am also thinking about adding flames around, here, like we’ve seen it. But it is difficult to separate the red of the fire from the red of the Element. I tried a yellow halo, but it didn’t seem right for me.”

“Have you tried using paints, maybe?”

Glavia’s soft grumble was as far as her exasperation went. “No, it would be even worse. With a crayon it’s simple because I can tell what kind of hue I will get depending on how strong I press it. In painting, it is also about the thickness of the brush, amount of water, paper quality and the drying time. I tried painting a few times, nothing too serious. But it was fun. I’m sure there are other things to make pictures with, but most of the time they are not as quite available as crayons and pencils.”

“This one’s really sweet,” Razzle said, stopping by a lone figure staring into the sunset. “I like how the pony sort of mixes but also completes the rest of the sun.”

“I call it Sunset at the Terrace Avenue,” Glavia said and took the picture off the wall. “You can have it if you want.”

“No way. It wouldn’t be fair if I just took it. How much is it?”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I charged a friend. Please, accept it as a gift for your birthday.” She chuckled lightly at the filly’s bewildered stare. “It is next week, is it not? I remember you mentioning the day on some lunch break when everyone was still getting to know each other. Well, almost everyone, but I myself was nearby, at least. Around the corner and behind the table, nearby, but it’s not like it is ever a problem to hear you.”

Razzle melted down momentarily. As much as she was ashamed to admit, she had been way too eager to judge “that weird griffon girl who talked to nobody but her doodles” in the first few weeks of the school year. Now, as she stood mesmerized by the art gallery and had its piece handed to her, Razzle knew that she, too, would be quick to pack her things right after the bell if it meant sparing more time on her hobby. Shame and blame—she could hear her guilt screaming at her for being a jerk of a filly. Of course she hadn’t been the only one who considered Glavia an odd bird, but that didn’t justify her backwards attitude. She should definitely work on walking in someone else’s horseshoes, or in that case, her friend’s fur and feathers.

“I guess you really were hiding something. Thank you,” Razzle said. “So, you said you wanted to stroll around the city? Or are we staying in?”

“I was thinking about visiting the harbor if that’s okay with you. There is little to do around here anyway. Unless you want to help with running the store.”

Razzle snickered. “Yeah, I’m not that bored,” she said. “Let’s go see some airships.”

Glavia grabbed her talisman and sketchbook and threw a simple denim jacket on herself. Unlike Razzle’s wear for the day, the jacket had a lovely ragtag appearance—the sleeves were rolled up and the stonewashed material looked very natural, as if the white markings were actual signs of it wearing out. Razzle looked upon herself. She didn’t pay much attention to clothes, she relied on professionals in that. Mrs. Sassy Saddles from the Canterlot Carousel understood that a filly might not like fancy skirts or dresses and was always ready to recommend something practical, like the orange, boiled cashmere funnel neck sweater with a big silvered zipper from the autumn collection. Its only downside was that it came from some limited edition or something equally meaningless. But hey, at least it was warm and fuzzy in touch, like a bunny!

When the girls went downstairs, ready to storm the city with their casual couture, a big-boned griffon crossed their path.

“What in four winds—oh, a little pony?” he said with a voice that would split a faraway mountain in two if voices could crush stone. “Are you the one I’ve been hearing so much about lately?”

“Yes? No? I-I don’t know?” Razzle looked to her friend for help. “Am I?”

Glavia giggled. If laughter could mend tears and what’s torn, then those two halves of a mountain had just joined back together promptly.

“Razzle, meet Gabriel, the owner of Gabriel’s Emporium,” she said. “Gabriel, this is Razzle Lulamoon. From school.”

“Pluck my feathers, you ponies are getting smaller and smaller every year. Give it a few months and I won’t be able to tell you from breezies. You miniature,” he teased.

“Hey! I’m no miniature!”

“Ouch, and you’re a feisty one!” he guffawed. “So, G., here’s the thing. You won’t like it. I need you to take care of the orders.”

Glavia actually frowned. “I thought we settled that today was my day off,” she said to the towering griffon like she was his equal. “That’s why my friend is here.”

“I know, kid. It sucks and I’m sorry about that, but I have to finish the paperwork for my meeting with that bottled soda baron. You remember him, right? Fizzy’s father? He dropped by after hours yesterday and asked if we could reschedule and seal the deal today. Something came up and he has to be back in Manehattan by tomorrow.” He reached under the counter and placed two parcels between himself and Glavia. “You said you two were going out. Do you think you could deliver these on your way?”

“And to whom exactly?”

“This one goes to an old lady living in the Northridge,” Gabriel said and scribbled something down. “Here’s the address. She’ll be there, she never leaves her house. The order is twenty-seven bits, anything more is yours to keep. Just throw the money in the register once you’re back and we’re good.” He moved over the second parcel. “Now, for the good news. This one is already paid for, and it’ll be just your way if you cut through Chariot. It’s for Doctor Hugs.”

Glavia withdrew her talons. “Is it… necessary to deliver this one today?”

“Yes. It’s hard to compete price-wise nowadays, so customer service is what we fight with,” he said. “Hey, what’s with the frown, G.? It’s just a regular delivery, it’ll take you twenty minutes if you rush it, more if you step in for tea at Hugs’s. I bet he’ll be glad to see you too. Unless…” He threw a quick glance at Razzle who was scouring through the magazine display. He leaned in on Glavia and murmured, “Oh, I get it. Your choice, but I wouldn’t worry if I were you. And if you do worry… then you’ve got another reason to drop by Hugs, perhaps.”

Glavia grabbed the parcels and left the store without a word.

“Goodbye, sir!” Razzle added on parting and followed her friend outside. “So, uh, the miniature part aside, your dad seems like a nice guy.”

“Gabriel is not my father.”

“Whoops, sorry. But wait—let me guess. Don’t say anything. He’s your… brother. No, brothers don’t talk like that to younger siblings. Not that I would know, of course, I am the only child. It’s just you are gray from the neck down, he was kind of silver, so it would make sense. Alright, then he must be your uncle. Or maybe he’s your parents’ work associate? A butler? Because you’re technically like Merrot, right? A student from abroad?”

“Razzle.” Glavia’s eyebrows furrowed. “You are asking a lot of questions.”

“Yeah, I go there sometimes. Sorry.”

Razzle’s adventurous conditioning told her there was something going on in the air. If she didn’t know Glavia, that oasis of calmness, she would say she was irritated, but then again, she had no idea how irritated Glavia looked like. Yet she could still feel it and relate—Glavia wanted to have a morning of smooth sailing to the harbor when sudden chores emerged right in front of the bow, and it was Mr. Gabriel’s fault. How familiar! Razzle wasn’t always on good terms with her mom, either, especially when it came to having to do the laundry without getting a one week notice in advance. Maybe Glavia needed some time out from her custody, too?

They walked in silence for a while.

“Hey, is everything alright, girl? You look more serious than usual.”

“It is nothing. I simply wish Gabriel had stayed true to his word.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Because I happen to know all there is about old folks who don’t listen.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“No, for real!” Razzle assured. “Take my mom, for example. She never listens. Since the semester started I’ve been telling her that I don’t want radishes in my lunch box, but she keeps adding them to everything. She’s telling it’s good for me. I’m telling her that she’s not right, because if it was good for me, I would like it. If I don’t like it, then it can’t be good for me. So we go on and on until she agrees to drop the radishes, but then adds them anyway. How hard can it be to remember that I don’t like something?”

“Have you thought about making your second breakfast by yourself?”

The filly snickered. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I would have to wake up, like, ten minutes earlier, and you know that these count tenfold in the morning. So I’d still rather leave it to my mom or dad since they’re already getting up half past night, so it’s hardly a difference for them to make that extra sandwich for me. They only have to learn to make it right,” she concluded. “So that’s what I have to put up with. How about you? Anything keeping you up at night?”

“I am well, thank you for your concern,” Glavia replied, her voice regaining its gently calming tone. “I simply wanted today to be a day off for you and me, that’s all. I did not want you to be stuck with my chores. Actually, if you so desire, we can meet up later on once I’m done.”

“So that’s what’s worrying you? Relax! I’m totally down for delivering packages, it may be fun. Besides, the point of a day off for me and you is to spend it together. So wherever you go, I go,” Razzle assured and took the corner into Marble Street, but Glavia did not. “Hey, where are you going? Chariot Plaza is thataway.”

“Let’s visit the other one first.”

“But this one’s closer.”

“But the one in the Northridge is”—Glavia hesitated—“paying. It’s the store’s policy to take care of those customers first. Gabriel’s policy.”

Some old stallion from the Canterlot Elite had once told Razzle that griffons were good with making profit. He used different words of course, like “greedy” and “immigrants”, but the filly decided it would be for the best to let Glavia lead the way.

The Northridge was known primarily for its noticeable lack of fancy, bits-sucking stores and its abundance of households. Not everyone living in the capital had enough means and influence to afford a place on Rimway Avenue or by the Promenade, so for the regulars, the main residential district was a place to be. Situated on the northern side of Canterlot and thus of little importance as most of the city’s depictions presented it from the south, the Northridge was neither dangerous nor repulsive—only boring to some, thank you very much. Yet if someone wasn’t into hustle and bustle, it was without a doubt the best place to stay alive in the city without also having to live for the never-dwindling city life.

For Razzle, the Northridge was just too quiet, but it reminded her of a tongue-twister from her foalhood.

A batch of gall midge outmatched a patched hatched partridge by a detached and abridged Northridge thatch drawbridge.

The natural follow-up held the answer as to where had the poor bird gone next, but Razzle couldn’t recall it for her life. As they went deeper into the district, she made a game of counting the birds which were yet to flee from the upcoming winter. She played alone in case Glavia didn’t appreciate calling out her… half-cousins, were they? While most of the birds were cooing on rooftops, no partridges sadly, Razzle made sure to check under the bridge which fortunately wasn’t made of straws. Perhaps that’s why she got nothing. The narrow stream slicing below splashed without much conviction and would make a poor witness for the mysterious, albeit poetic adventure of the hungry fake pheasant.

The patch of ground addressed as 14 Copper Road had a peculiar house attached to it.

The first and only floor was framed with eerily purplish timber and had been grown rather than built if the clusters of twisted plants surrounding the structure had anything to say in the matter. They remained in unnatural symbiosis with the house, using the wood as their personal climbing walls to keep their twigs straight and steady, and seemingly nourishing it back with their succulent juices—hence the faint, purplish glow in the timber’s veins. The roof was at least three stories high, cone-shaped, and resembled a pointy hat with three bulges on different heights with murky windows nestled within. The front door lacked a welcome mat. Instead, the girls were greeted by a string of garlic hanging on the window and a cracked cauldron serving as a pot for a blooming fern.

Glavia threw a quick glance at the parcel. “Mrs. Mist?” A gentle tap-tap on the door. “Gabriel’s Emporium—I have a delivery for you.”

“I don’t think she heard you,” Razzle said after roughly three seconds of waiting.

“I knocked, didn’t I?”

“Of course you did, girl.” Razzle stepped in and banged a few good ones of her own. “Hello! Mrs. Mist! Gabriel’s Emporium, there’s a package for you!”

“It’s more of a parcel.”

“A parcel for you!” the filly shouted. “There. Now we’ve knocked.”

“And how exactly is your way better? No one’s coming, still.”

The door opened to the accord of unoiled hinges, presenting a single round room with low ceiling which constituted the entirety of the floor. There were several bookcases squeezed along the wall, arching a round table littered with parchments, some of which were held by a decorative paperweight made of a crystal orb embedded in a silver setting. On the opposite side of the room, behind a wooden screen stood a stool with a washing bowl, the household’s apparent baths of crude quality. The center had a steady-looking pillar with stairs leading around it, disappearing somewhere in the hut’s hat. The rest of the residence was dim at best and dark to the point of distress at worst.

“Looks like we’re expected,” Razzle said. “Maybe your customer is, you know, rooting weeds in the backyard or something.”

The untrimmed grass and sprawling bushes hadn’t gotten a gardener’s love in a long time, but the fern by the door raised its tips and looked at them inquisitively. No, the fern had been only disturbed by the wind and it just looked like it was doing something ferns weren’t exactly famous for.

“I think this is the backyard,” Glavia remarked and grabbed her friend’s shoulder. “Wait. Please. We shouldn’t come in without permission.”

“Didn’t Mr. Gabriel say she’s an old lady who never leaves the house? She must be around here somewhere. And if she wasn’t expecting us, she would have left the door shut tight,” Razzle said, inviting herself in. “Come on! She’s probably a nice granny type that’s too tired to get off the bed. You wouldn’t have her dress up for us, would you?” she asked, dragging the reluctant griffon in. “Mrs. Mist, hello! We have something with your name on it and we think you’d like it!”

The fern fluttered menacingly behind their backs.

When no answer came, Razzle and Glavia ventured further into the hut. They went past the pillar into the kitchen space, or a storage of sorts with a hefty collection of labeled jars, pouches and little boxes arranged on the shelves. The contents of some, solid or liquid, would find use in every master chef’s armory, but between thyme and cardamom there were also belladonna, henbane, or datura that probably wouldn’t make a soup any tastier—only smellier if the overwhelming mix of scents was any clue. Just below the jars stretched a long counter with a copper kettle, a mortar and pestle, and some glass apparatus made of two conjoined bulbs and an unlit burner under one of them.

“Is it common for pony grandparents to keep things like that on”—Glavia took a sharp breath—“on… on displ—achoo!”

“Good health to you! Well, my grandparents, mom’s side, have a cherry farm so they almost always have some home-made preserves laying around. You never tasted cherries until you’ve had some Lulamoon Cherry Jam,” Razzle said proudly. “I’ll get you some on Monday, you’ll love it! This—this is much like their cellar but with more, you know, everything.”

An empty clang came from the side and bounced twice before rolling across the floor, taking the shape of a copper goblet by Razzle’s hooves. A quick flicker to retrace its path revealed that it had fallen from the counter not by its own effort, but with the help of a strangely looking critter—a fluffy rabbit of coral pink fur with dark floppy ears and a tail to match. The rabbit stood upright on its hind legs, looked at the girls with interest, then dashed along the counter toppling everything on its way.

“No! Bad rabbit!” Razzle yelled while Glavia was doing her best to catch the flung and falling tableware. “Breaking is bad! You’re cute, but cute will only get you so far.” She slammed on its path. “Where’s your owner, furball?” The rabbit turned. Razzle responded appropriately. “Or better yet, where’s the money, hmm?”

Bouncing off Razzle’s forehead, the rabbit skipped back to the end of the counter. Its eyes shined deviously at the uncorked flask of orange liquid.

“Whoa, stop—you won’t—let’s talk about this, okay?” she said, approaching as careful as possible. “So how’s that: you stop making a mess and we won’t turn you into a pillow. You’re a pretty-pretty rabbit, aren’t you? Yes, you are. Yes, you are! Surely there’s no need to blow it out—”

A powerful kick sent the flask straight at Razzle who, instinctively, captured it with the help of her magic. Yet the lob was accurate and the filly’s telekinetic field far from sure, so stopping the flask didn’t prevent the liquid from spraying all over her muzzle and neck.

“Razzle! Are you—achoo!—alright?”

“And good luck to you!” Razzle’s first response was. Her fringe was held together by the dripping droplets as she wiped her face. “Yuck. I smell like a bucket of carrots, and my sweater—oh, mom’s going to kill me!”

She glared angrily at the rabbit. It looked bleaker than before, and so did everything around it aside from shelved greens and blues which, in turn, had become more vivid. At the same time, Razzle spotted several things that had escaped her attention before, as if the dim light was suddenly enough to notice a broom in the dark corner or read the labels off the top row of jars. The rabbit disappeared from her field of view, obscured by her twitching nose. Up and down, then up and down again, the nose refused to stop its new favorite motion. On the plus side, Razzle could see Glavia—who was standing almost right behind her.

The realization she should not be able to see her without turning her head freaked her out.

“Glavia,” she tried to sound calm. “I think there’s something wrong with my sight.”

Shocked to her core, Glavia pointed her talon and squawked something akin to “face”.

Razzle grabbed her muzzle. Her eyeballs wanted to look to the sides in a divergent squint so badly she could not fight them. She felt her ears dropping on her cheeks. They were twice, thrice as long as before, and so was her fur.

“Wah! What is happening? My face! My ears!”

The flask fell and shattered once her horn retracted. Her teething morphed into a pair of incisors, perfect for nom-nomming carrots.

“Glavia! Help!” she squeaked when her sweater grew so big she lost herself in its vastness.

“Hold on! I’ll think of something!”

“You better!”

All that was pony about Razzle Lulamoon subsided momentarily.

* * *

Twitch-twitch, went her nom-seeker. She smelled carrots in the air. More importantly, she smelled adventure.

Bunzle clambered out of her warm and fuzzy lair, taking a moment to bask in its softness. She loved the smell of carrots in the morning. So refreshing! She possibly loved it even more than she loved nomming on carrots, because once nomming was done it was all over, but with the smell came also the anticipation of a fresh, crunchy treat just waiting around the corner—now that was something to live for. Therefore, in order: Bunzle loved adventures, the smell, and nomming on carrots, so waking up to such wondrous scent with a hint of approaching enterprise was easily the best thing in the whole flat world.

Her heart thum-thumped like a toy hammer. Above her lurked a vicious predator, half bird and half cat more commonly known as the bird-cat, screeching words Bunzle could not understand. She didn’t speak predator. She spoke rabbit like a rabbit she was, and like a rabbit she was she knew she should be wary of the big and bad predators. She quickly hopped behind the counter. The bird-cat noticed, but didn’t try to catch her and instead took interest in the sharp, crystal tears littering the backyard. What a strange predator. She looked as if she had misplaced her favorite carrot. Hopefully she knew those tears weren’t for nomming!

An old rabbit of shaggy looks was watching them from above. Hop, skip, and jump—Bunzle joined her on the counter in no time.

“Hello!” she uttered. “It is a nice day we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Cheese-on-bread!” the other rabbit replied. “Dere still nuh cure for yuh poppits?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yuh hard-ears or wuh? Dere a predator in ‘ere in case yuh haffin’t jarred. Jarred! Wit yuh eyes!”

Bunzle parked her fluffy bum next to her funny-speaking kin. She must have been one of those proud and industrious Bunshire bunnies.

“Oh, yes, I have, uh, seen her,” Bunzle said, “but she doesn’t seem that predatory to me. I think she’s just looking for something to nom.”

“Yuh mekin’ sport? She lookin’ fuh prey like we, yuh duncey fluff duster!”

“Hey, the name’s Bunzle, for your information! Bunzle the Tricksy Rabbit,” she introduced herself, thinking about her mom all of a sudden.

“I—Flural,” the other whispered. “Less-noise again. I tink she nuh jarring we in ‘ere.”

Bunzle focused her attention back on the bird-cat, putting the hazy memories of her mom at the backstage of her mind. Her unimpressive brain concluded that the predator had failed in her quest for treats but wasn’t smart enough to continue the search. She only looked at some white leaves laying on the table trying to count the black beetles and butterflies stuck to them, but then she shook her beak and wheezed a fuzzy sound through her fur piercer. She sighed and took a rectangle off the wall in which a miniature creature was trapped.

Their eyes met. Flural buried her face in Bunzle’s messy mane but she withheld the gaze.

She felt she had nothing to fear and that the bird-cat would sooner bring her the best of carrots than do anyone any harm. Instead of feral instincts, hunger, or other equally predatory things, Bunzle read a sad truth from that yearning stare—even if the bird-cat had found that ultimate treat, she would lack someone with whom she could share it, not to mention adventure with or talk over white leaves or rectangles.

It was unfair, and Bunzle was this close from hopping forth and giving her a warm hug, but then the bird-cat snapped her throat rippers. She sat down, closed her eyes and clenched onto a strange triangle which didn’t look edible. Soon she was fast asleep.

“It’s alright, Flural. She’s napping.”

“Tank da Great Carrot!” Flural discarded her camouflaging herb hat. “Leh we gah outta ‘ere. Again dat we may live long enuff, howabou’ we find sumtin’ to nyam?”

Bunzle eagerly agreed. She was in a mood for a whole stack of carrots, or a few cabbages. Or some radishes. No, she remembered she didn’t like those. It may have something to do with her mom, she assumed.

They barely made it to the treat country when a silver silhouette arose—literally—in front of them.

“Woi! Blista bline, duppy!” Flural yelled and hurled a jar lid at the apparition. When it came right through, she wasted no time fleeing into a breadbox. “In ‘ere, quick! Dis a duppy! A demon!”

“Are you for real? We’re bunnies, not buns! You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding in there!”

“I can and I will. Haff fun dis ting nyam yuh,” Flural muttered and locked herself inside. “Yute dis days, I swear!”

The silver fellow looked like a fox, but as far as Bunzle knew foxes weren’t usually that shiny. Perhaps he was some kind of a super-fox, maybe an angel, but definitely not a demon. Her mom—why was it so hard to call back her face, again?—used to tell her stories about angels when she was younger. She said they were watching over them from their invisible castles in the sky, though on occasion they would get bored and come down to help bunnies in their adventuring. Or was that offer limited to ponies? But why would it be?

Bunzle, existing somewhere between the extremes of bravery and recklessness, hopped closer towards the figure.

“Hello, glowing friend! Sorry about Flural, she’s not from around here and also a little hare-hearted. And you are…?”

“Like you said, a friend. You may call me Furiel,” he replied without moving his muzzle, his voice echoing gently inside Bunzle’s skull.

“Ooh, nice trick! I didn’t know you guys could do that. And I didn’t know you spoke rabbit.”

“I speak what I spoke when I have been walking amongst you, which is the tongue of all animals—and so do you, for the time being. Razzle Lulamoon.”

There was no one else Furiel could have addressed. How did he almost know her name? Razzle, Razzle Lulamoon, she chewed on the words. They sounded dangerous, like a mighty predator’s name. Perhaps even magical in nature, with a tendency to be loud and boisterous. Bunzle kind of liked it, minus the Lulamoon part which felt redundant. She would drop it entirely if it was her choice to make.

“Have we met?” Bunzle asked.

“In a way. I am Glavia’s spirit guide. You do remember her, right?”

“N-not really?”

“This is Glavia.” Furiel nodded at the sleeping bird-cat.

“The predator? Aw, but Glavia sounds way too nice to be a predator’s name!”

Furiel closed his eyes for a moment. “I feel Glavia appreciates that. Between you and me, she appreciates your company more than you think. And she needs you… she will need you more than you can imagine. But right now, it is you who need her help. Our help,” he said. “Your true form is that of a pony, Razzle, not a rabbit. Glavia suspects that your new friend is a pony too. A one Mrs. Mist to whom you two were meant to deliver a package. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“We were meant to deliver… a parcel, I think,” Razzle replied, remembering things from a vague, distant dream. “Hey, Flural, you’re hearing this? I’m a pony, and you’re a pony too!”

“Yuh bazodee?” the breadbox barked back. “Dis just another fuh-lie of dem predators. He and the bird-cat workin’ all-two a wunna, he wants to nyam we o-dasame!”

“I wish no such thing.”

“Buh! Such a predator ting to say.”

Bunzle shook her head. “You’re not making any sense, Flural. If they wanted to harm us they would have done it already. What if he’s telling the truth? What if we really are ponies? Look around, this is hardly a rabbit hole, this is a pony house. All those funny plants growing in the jars? They’re not even good for nomming. Eating. Everything’s huge and there’s no carrots anywhere. It’s just… wrong.”

In a few bounces there and back again, Bunzle brought the picture from the table. She kicked the breadbox open, barely evading a baguette swing. Flural came out next, wearing an eaten out slice of bread like a lucky necklace.

“Look at this!” Bunzle said. “This pony looks just like you. See the mane? Look at yourself—do you think rabbits are normally that color?”

Flural disregarded the picture at first, but after one peak she was unable to look away. “I admit… dis equine does jar like she me sistah. Nuff yute red-skin ting, probably, but still. Yuh tink a rabbit can haff a nuh-rabbit sistah?”

“I would think so, yes. We’re all of this one world and we’re living in this one world together, like a family already.”

“Hmm. Dis wise words for a bunny dat yute. A’ight. Leh say I believe you two bazodees, leh say we equines fuh-real. How we endup fluffy?”

Furiel opened his eyes again after a longer while. “Glavia apologizes if her choice of words is insensitive, but judging by your hut’s appearance and decor, she concluded you are a practitioner of witchcraft, and it is you and you alone who’s responsible for your current state. She found a recipe for a transfiguration potion of which you are the most likely creator, but the ingredients list for preparing an antidote is incomplete.” He closed his eyes again. “If you provide her with proper knowledge, however, she should be able to concoct the counter-potion.”

Flural stood before the shelves, one ragged ball of fur against at least a hundred different smells, tastes, and purposes.

“Eh. O-malife I want to bubble a pot, yuh know. I—Flural—a rabbit chef. I guess again da time,” she chuckled. “A’ight, duppy. Wat yuh gat dere on da menu?”

* * *

And one more for the laundry pile. Still, three-and-a-half days without an incident wasn’t a bad score. Most of her new clothes rarely lived long enough to see the dawning of the third day.

“Whoa. Hey, I just remembered a dream I had,” Razzle said. “You know that feeling when you’re warm and fuzzy inside because something good happened to you? In that dream I felt like that, but on the outside instead. Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Razzle!” Glavia pulled her into a hug. “You’re alright. You’re back!”

“Oh—uh—hey there, girl. I’m fine today, and how are you?” she played along her friend’s unexpected good mood. “And I’ve been here the whole time, you know, looking for the witch. Where are we on that, again?”

A shadow fell upon them. It belonged to a unicorn mare whose pale coral coat betrayed her grandmother-tier age. If she ever possessed the boon of beauty, she’d lost it decades ago. The tight braids of her mane were held together by a turquoise scarf rich in beads and filigree chains, and her foggy blue stare, hidden between deep wrinkles, appeared cold and unforgiving, yet still unsure with the strange visitors who had come to her place of seclusion.

“Your witch is right here.” Hints of an ousted exotic accent were ringing in her parlance. “Partial memory loss? That’s interesting. Tell me, child, do you like fantastical stories like breezie tales and fiction?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

The mare swooshed her long robe, the tangle of way too many necklaces ringing as she inspected the counter. “In addition to its main purpose, the potion is rich in substances that will blur the line between what’s real and what’s not. It affects the mind by dampening the most of who or what you are, leaving only that which constitutes your true nature. So much for the big city life for this old islander.” She turned back to Razzle. “As for those who do not have all four hooves on the ground, who already have trouble discerning what the world is from what they want it to be… those may lose themselves in the experience.”

“But what potion? I don’t remember any of that!” Razzle said but was promptly ignored.

“You’ve done good enough, little bird,” the mare told Glavia. “You will never be a potion master, I’m afraid, but at least you and your pet pal can follow instructions.”

“I’ll take is as a—achoo!—compliment,” She wiped her beak for the umpteenth time, her eyes bloodshot from excessive sneezing. She picked up the parcel. “Mrs. Coral Mist? Your delivery from Gabriel’s Emporium.”

“Hello! Questions inbound! What are you two talking about? What was—wait a minute, did you say Coral Mist? Why didn’t you tell me we’re delivering a parcel to someone named Coral Mist?”

“I didn’t think it was important?”

Razzle looked the old mare in the eyes. “Are you the Coral Mist who graduated from Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns in the late sixties with eight accolades on her account?”

Coral Mist stepped back in slight apprehension. “Who are you, kids?” she asked.

“Razzle Lulamoon, student at the SGI and part-time adventurer. This is Glavia, also from the SGI, the most talented pencil-and-crayon artist in the city,” she introduced them both. “I’m currently following the trail of a unicorn who, according to one of our teachers, possessed greater magical talent than Princess Twilight Sparkle by the time he or she also attended the school sometime during the last century. I have a list of names—a long list of names—and I’m trying to find out all I can about them in my spare time. Yours, well, you are at the top of my list just over Radiant Dust, Ember Spire, Sour Grape—“

“What kind of stupid goal is that?” Coral Mist snarled. “You could have as well come to the Northridge to seek for a pony more royal than Celestia! You better find yourself a sensible hobby.”

Razzle’s ears, no longer rabbit in shape, flopped along with her enthusiasm all the same.

“B-but it’s following the trail that counts for me…”

“What counts is not wasting my time,” Coral Mist said dryly. “Am I at the top of your list? Then here’s a fact for you: I neither am nor ever have been more magical than Princess Sparkle. I don’t know more spells than her, I haven’t been saving Equestria when I was her age, and I rather not compare my academic prowess with hers. Nopony on my year would ever come close to matching her. Can’t speak for others, forgive me for not caring, but the chances are still slim. My only card is knowing more potion recipes, perhaps, but in the end I am still but a simple witch. Now, where is my purse…”

“If I may,” Glavia cut in, “I thought that traditional witchcraft died out centuries ago.”

Coral Mist continued her search, spinning a yarn as she lead Razzle and Glavia through the strange world that was her hut.

“Not at all. It’s not entirely dead, only rarely practiced these days.” She snorted. “You can thank the changelings for that. Them, and the folk from overzealous orders who couldn’t tell the difference between a bug and a witch. Hundreds of years ago, when somepony saw a changeling transforming into a pony and back, the common assumption was that it was a pony becoming some kind of a monster, not the other way around. It was well before the changelings were recognized as an actual race, you see, nopony knew them back then. What they did know, however, was that the ponies practicing witchcraft could transform themselves, and others, into other beings. With the help of potions or otherwise. So when a changeling was spotted breaking a vase at the Crystal Princess’ bedroom, guess who was to blame.”

“The witches?”

“The witches,” Coral Mist echoed after the griffon. “We were held in high regard once, as healers and advisors in the matters of love. But no, all that remains are lies about us kidnapping foals, opening the gates of Tartarus, and overall rejoicing in evil deeds.”

“But you’re not evil,” Razzle said. “Are you?”

“Bah! I am registered, I have a valid license and I do not overuse any ingredients forbidden by the law. I say that classifies me as a good witch. Although, maybe if I got myself some white mallow and monkshood, my practice would pose a threat to the Princess’ position!” She cackled herself into a cough. “But that’s not for me. Never was.”

“But you won the Capricious Comet Contest,” Razzle wasn’t letting go. “That’s got to count for something!”

“Only for more lies.”

“What do you mean?”

Tired with the constant open-close routine of her drawers and cupboards, the mare sunk into an armchair.

“They made me feel like a winner,” she sighed. “Yet I was not the best.”

Razzle shook her head. “No, the SGI yearbook clearly said that a Coral Mist—”

“The yearbook? Bah! Don’t tell me about the yearbooks, I was on the editing team. I bet you’ve done most of your research on the graduation pages, haven’t you? Handy, but they only show you the students who completed their education in a given year. Which is why you will never find Glowstar Glint amongst them.”

“Who?”

Coral Mist gazed into the crystal paperweight. “I didn’t even know her. She was older—a fifth year student, if memory serves. Like me, she qualified for the final round of the Comet, and you know what that means.” She smirked. “Yes, I imagine she was excited much like myself. Maybe a bit scared too. I guess that in a way we were right to be scared,” she said, then threw the girls an unforgiving stare. “Quiet! Don’t you have any respect for the old mare talking?”

Caught in a mid-whisper exchange, Razzle had a fierce protest on the tip of her tongue.

“We apologize,” Glavia said on her behalf. “The Capricious Comet Contest has been discontinued many years ago. We are not clear on the rules.”

“Has it, now? Most intriguing,” Coral Mist replied. “So, in short—first, Princess Celestia nominates someone to prepare a mix of trials for the participants.” She bit her lip. “Actually, now that we have more Princesses to spare, maybe she will make her sister do that. Anyway, the trials are meant to measure your control and flexibility over magic. You will need to feel its flow around you, not only be able to describe its movement if you want to impress your professors. In your favor—you don’t have to pass all of the trials. Two out of three, three out of five, the exact number varies contest to contest.”

Razzle raised her hoof. “How many have you passed?”

“Not all of them, let’s leave it at that,” the mare retorted. “How well you do on that stage determines the order in which you will present yourself in front of the committee. That is the Comet proper, your time to shine. It has to be something unique, a real talent to awe them.”

“Then it’s like our entry exam,” Glavia said. “It doesn’t sound too difficult.”

“The Princess serves on the committee.”

“Oh.”

Coral Mist cackled, once again ending in a cough attack. “Yes. But at least you don’t have to perform in front of the entire school. Not yet. It’s only you, the ponies you hate, the pony that rules your life… and a bored witch who happens to always carry a raven potion on her,” she said, eliciting grins on her listener’s faces. “I was bored and curious, a dangerous combination if I ever brewed one. After my presentation I flew back into the room and watched my colleagues showing off. They were all terrible, if you’ll excuse my vanity, but among them one filly seemed to know what she was there for. She was also a witch like me, but where I chose to study plants and animals as my specialty, she enjoyed meddling in the magic of love.”

The girls listened like enchanted.

“When she was showing her magic, a complex spell of sorts, she went overboard. The streams centered on her and started flowing towards Princess Celestia, then towards the members of the committee. Then between the Princess and them, then between them and myself, like an intricate web of magical relations. I tried to discern the nature of the spell, but the next thing I saw was Celestia flying to her and blinking them both away.” She grunted and took a moment to sit up more comfortably. “She returned after a while, alone—I know not how long it was—and asked the committee to consider Glowstar Glint disqualified.”

“And then?”

The mare shrugged. “Nothing of consequence. The official gala was held by the end of the year. The Princess asked the best to present their talents for all to see. Then she announced the winner of the hundred-and-tenth Capricious Comet Contest—me.”

“What about Glowstar Glint?”

“I have never seen or heard of her again. The rumor was she was called home right after her presentation and then moved due to family matters. Maybe she did so. Maybe she didn’t. What I know for sure is this: the greatest talent of that Comet was denied to present herself, and from what I saw she had more skill than my class combined. Still no more than Twilight Sparkle, mind you,” she said to Razzle. “But she was definitely aiming for something extraordinary. For something great.”

“If Princess Celestia had to intervene then it couldn’t have been anything good,” Glavia noticed.

“I never said it was going to be good,” Coral Mist concluded, allowing herself to a tired sigh. She took a pouch from under the pillow. “Keep the change. Don’t squander it on silliness.”

Thus the absolute best half-fledged delivery team in the northern Canterlot had completed the first of their appointed rounds, and neither wind nor rain, nor barriers of language and form had stopped them from doing so. As they were leaving soon after, Coral Mist didn’t bother to see them to the door but gazed into the crystal paperweight, mumbling something about having to check the weather. At least the fern by the door waved them goodbye—or perhaps it was just a random gust lifting its leaflets again.

On their way back from the Northridge and towards the other end of Marble Street, Razzle was wondering about way too many things at once. She was so deep in thought Glavia had to manually point her in the right direction before she walked under parked carts and cars. If she was getting it right, and she asked Glavia numerous times to make sure, than she had participated in an actual adventure, of a smaller caliber, warm and soft on the outside, but an adventure nonetheless straight from her bedtime stories. It was a shame she could not remember enough details from her fuzzy time. In all honesty, if it wasn’t for her friend’s solemn assurance she would have thought it was just a dream. And if it wasn’t for Glavia’s quick-thinking and her spirit’s help, Razzle would be nomming carrots for who knew how long. Did she say nomming? She meant eating.

That’s when it struck her. Spike was her friend from day almost one, Merrot was, well, her friend, but for the longest time she thought of Glavia as the former two’s friend and only a colleague by proxy of hers. Oh, they talked during breaks—sure they talked, their class wasn’t that big, but Razzle had been haunted by that conviction she was going to say something offensive and ruin the pony-griffon relations for the next couple of decades.

Alright, maybe she was giving herself too much credit with that one, but she couldn’t even get Glavia’s name right at first! And that first lunch they had together? So awkward! The school trip to the Castle of the Two Sisters helped, but she was still more likely to greet Spike or Merrot first.

That clever bird deserved better, but before Razzle could start formulating a plan, a different winged creature occupied her mind.

The hatched patched partridge outmatched by the batch of gall midge abridged Northridge thatch drawbridge to snitch your detached fridge!

A clever bird indeed.

Another thought surfaced in the storm. Coral Mist’s claim aside, maybe Glowstar Glint really was the mysterious pony Professor Inkwell implied. Either way, Razzle had a new name topping her list.

Before long she realized they were trespassing on someone’s property, trotting towards a massive house. The fittingly extensive yard stretched up to the cast iron gate had only a few perky bushes planted in strategic locations, but no trees or otherwise more ambitious garden ambiance. Clearly the owners wanted to impress their neighbors, but in the end weren’t patient enough to take care of all the small things growing under their watch. Though gardening wasn’t among Razzle’s fortes and the sum total of her experiences hinged on that few times she helped her grandpa water the orchard—he put her in charge of filling the watering can!—she felt that taking half the plants from Coral Mist’s house and sticking it here would greatly raise the property value of both.

“Phew, that’s a big house,” she said. “Somebody important lives here?”

“Among others? Doctor Sunlit Hugs with his wife. She used to be a Wonderbolt Captain. I suppose that may count as important for you.”

“I’ve never been a big fan, but yeah, you could say that.”

They were greeted by a filly shorter even than Razzle on her worst days, who much like Razzle on those days also had a plaster across her nose.

“Good morning,” Glavia said, taking out the second parcel. “Would you hand it to Doctor Hugs, please? With compliments from Gabriel’s Emporium.”

“He’s in the common room, ma’am. I’ll call him,” she offered before Glavia could refuse. “Doc! Some Mrs. Gabby Semporium to see you!”

Razzle wondered if she’d heard it right and the filly really called for a doctor instead of her dad. Yet she and the stallion who turned up in the doors couldn’t possibly be related. The apparent Doctor Hugs’s coat was that of bright yellow, and his muzzle, while no older than her dad’s, had its share of smile trenches already. He seemed to be in good enough mood and his grin grew wider when he saw Glavia—who, in turn, looked like she knew him well. He must have been a regular customer at Mr. Gabriel’s store.

“Glavia!” Doctor Hugs beamed. “So good to see you again! How’s your magic training going?”

“I am definitely more in control than I used to be!” Glavia laughed. Like, actually—heartily, honestly, and more laid-back about the delivery than she should be. What was that all about? Glavia was never like that at school. “This is my best friend. Razzle Lulamoon.”

Razzle’s cheeks burned at the “best friend” tag so generously granted to her. “Morning,” she mumbled.

“And good morning to you, young lady. Please give my appreciation to your mother. My better half and I loved her in Dirty Prancing,” he said. “So, more in control, you say? That’s a relief. Has she told you that story yet, Miss Lulamoon? When she was eight, I think, Glavia was sitting on a tree…”

Something eluded her, but not for long. Armed with tactically tactful chuckles and nods, Razzle faked participation and took a peek through the wide open doors. The doctor’s family was most unusual. There were ponies glimpsing in the corridor, but she also spotted two griffons and a buffalo. She wasn’t that bad at sciences to not know it was impossible for the stallion to have them. Was he running some sort of a special school? Not likely, the common room in the back really was a common room with a fireplace and couches and zero blackboards. And on Saturday? Cruel! But even if, what about the teachers? There would be the doctor, that fiery-maned pegasus—whom Razzle saw only for a second, but long enough to know she totally ripped off her trademarked messy hairdo—and maybe, just maybe one more adult.

Confused to no end, Razzle heard a keyword she needed.

“…or drop by the Orphanarium sometimes, if you’re not too busy, that is,” Doctor Hugs said. “Take Wind and Nutsie with you. Come to help the kids with the homework, stay for a movie night, you know what I’m saying?” Someone yelled his name in panic. “Ah, the lady of the house is calling and it would seem she’s in trouble. You of all should know that her mane is the best place to sit in. I should say you started a tradition no less!” He took his parcel and sighed. “Time sure flies. You were all so little and now, look at you! Keep up the good work, Glavia. I’m proud of you.” Another shout. “We both are.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Say hello to Gabriel for me!”

When he closed the doors, Razzle read a plaque she had missed earlier—and it all made terrible sense.

“Are… are you…”

Glavia turned to her neither sad nor overjoyed. “I am an orphan. I was found by Doctor Hugs right here”—she trailed her talon along the concrete step—“at the Orphanarium’s doorstep, with just a scrap of paper and a scone.” She opened her sketchbook on the back cover where a makeshift pocket had been attached. She fished out a piece of yellowed, creased paper with her name written on it. After a moment she slid it back in. “There’s a chance I was born in Griffonstone, but I think of myself as a Canterlotian. At least that’s how I feel. I don’t know who my parents were or why… why they chose this to be the best way. I doubt I will ever find out.”

“What about Mr. Gabriel?” Razzle asked, joining her on the step.

“He is my legal guardian. He is good for me but I would never call him my father,” Glavia replied. “When I was coming of age, my closest friends, Chestnut and Wind Whisper had been long adopted and I couldn’t be happier for them. But myself, I was alone, and the chances of finding a family for me were diminishing. There’s not that many griffons in Canterlot to begin with and most come here for seasonal work, rarely to settle for life. So I wanted to run away, but before I gathered enough courage, Doctor Hugs introduced me to Gabriel. I didn’t have to run. I got a place to live and a chance to grow under the wings of my kin. In exchange, I’m working part-time at his store. Sometimes I tend to the counter. Sometimes I do deliveries.”

They sat in silence.

“So drawing’s not the only reason you’re always in such a rush after school.”

“It’s one of the reasons. Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Glavia walked a few steps away. “I… I don’t know. I could never figure out how to talk about these things. I consider myself lucky, you know. I only never knew my parents, but it’s easier than what my two friends had to go through.”

Upon consulting her teary eyes, Razzle learned something new: she was an emotional pony.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered, chocking on the words. “It’s just—gah, I’m so dumb. Earlier I was complaining about my mom and the stupid sandwich like that’s even a problem, and all that time, you were… while you…”

“While I have to do my second breakfast myself.” Glavia reached out to the filly and helped her up. “Razzle. Please don’t worry about me. There’s nothing either of us can do about it. Maybe one day I’ll have a chance to visit the Griffin Kingdom and ask around. Maybe then…” She trailed off. "For now, you could do me a favor."

“A-anything!”

“The next time you see your mom today, give her a hug and tell her how much you love her. She’ll appreciate it more than you think.”

“I will,” Razzle sniveled. She walked into Glavia’s embrace like she was the one who needed consolation. “You’re darn right I will.”

“Could you also cheer up for me?” she heard over her ear.

“Cheer up, yes! I can do cheerful.” She wiped her tears away with her free hoof. She tried bringing her casual smile back, but her lips just warped awkwardly. Thankfully her friend couldn’t see that. “Uh, hey… I know it must be difficult for you, not having a mom and dad, so if you’ll ever need a sister… I’m here.”

Glavia broke off the hug and chuckled, sincerely amused by the offer. “A pony sister for a griffon?”

“Well, you know.” Razzle shrugged. “I’m just saying. We’re all of this one world and we’re in this world together, so we’re like a family already,” she said and immediately pondered, surprised by her own words. “Huh. Somehow, that sounded way better in my head.”

“I think it was very nice. It made me, oh, how did you put it? Feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside?”

“That makes sense. Because, you know, you’re warm and fuzzy on the outside already,” Razzle chuckled, wasting not the opportunity to lift the spirits. Glavia giggled and looked away, stealthily drying her own tears. Razzle looked away as well, wondering if she wasn't only on the receiving end of that friendly hug. It seemed like Glavia needed it too. More importantly, she needed a friend to fill the void after her what’s-their-names co-orphans. “So, you’re still up for that trip to the harbor we’ve talked about?”

Glavia nodded, smiling radiantly. “I’m up for it if you’re up for it. Watching the airships slowly disappearing beyond the horizon is relaxing,” she said. “Come to think of it, relaxing is just what I need after how weird this day off has been so far.”

“You said it, girl!” Razzle giggled. “You said it.”

Author's Note

Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! :raritywink:

4 - How to Crystallize Your Knowledge (And Study Magical Chivalry)

Several schools there were in Canterlot. Differences between them were purely superficial.

Whether they were young, uniform-wearing socialites with their University’s fancy exchange programs, or extracurricularly busy bees learning under the passionate, if extravagant staff of the Academy, the Clovers and Coconuts alike agreed: it was physically impossible to be prepared for every subject, every class, and every test at all times. Literature, art, math, science, history—how could anyone live that that speed? The Coconuts surely didn’t, unraveling only what they found most puzzling at the moment, and nor did the Clovers, turning their eyes and ears to what their parents or other figures of authority deemed as proper.

SGI students weren’t meant to learn it all either. Honing magical abilities made for a decent excuse, but no spell could absolve them of not even leafing through their notebooks until only two days before a Very Important Test.

Spike didn’t seek absolution. He could certainly use a blessing, though.

“Alright, hit me with another one. Just… something easier this time.”

“Something easier, here goes,” Merrot eagerly replied. “What was the name of the last marshal of the Crystal Empire before its disappearance? A. Jade Armor. B. Jade Echo. C. Jade Dream. D. Jade Wind.”

Absent-mindedly rummaging across tiny white rocks surrounding the base of the overhead statue, Spike peeked from under Across the Ages 1, a history textbook splayed out on his face. The statue had Knowledge written on its plaque and it presented a mare not unlike Twilight standing on her hind legs, holding a coiled scroll with reverence. Another scroll enveloped her from hooves to neck like a swoosh of wisdom materialized in stone parchment.

Stone statue, stone parchment. Stone deaf to a poor student’s plea. Some help you were, Lady Knowledge!

“Ugh, I hate those,” Spike moaned. “You’re only making them so similar to mess me up.”

“I’ll give you a hint. There are cockatrices associated with this pony’s heraldry.”

“Cockatrices-shmockatrices. I’m gonna go with Jade… uh, C.”

“But I see no Jade Sea here. Ow! Ouch!” Pebbles bounced off Merrot’s carapace. “Still not in the mood? Then you must forgive me once again, because it is actually B—Jade Echo.”

“Yeah, yeah. I knew it was either him or the other guy.”

“The other girl, rather? As it happens, Marshal Jade Echo was a lady whose family were known monster hunters,” Merrot corrected him, hiding behind a book right in time for another barrage. “Oh, come on, what did I do? Do you want to pass it or not?”

Spike muttered a low growl. He couldn’t blame Merrot—that would be childish—but the awfully envious statue which so far refused to share its knowledge was a satisfying enough culprit. As far as the sculpture garden went, some of those figures could be forgotten spirits just waiting to be released, and hey, maybe that’s exactly what he should do. Maybe he should ask Discord to take him on a trip in time so he could hang out with Jade Echo himself. Herself. Whatever. At this point it was either that or pillowing books overnight.

Technically, yes, he did spent his last free weekend at Rarity’s instead of studying and no, it wasn’t his fault. Rarity insisted. History did not.

“Sorry. I know.” Spike joined the changeling on the bench. “It’s just that I’ve come here to study magic and that’s pretty much it. Nowadays no pony cares about what happened a thousand years ago, so what a dragon like me has to gain from reading about it?”

“A broader perspective. Sometimes a prominent character or an event may have more than one interpretation. Personally, I find it fascinating to study the strictly pony point of view on history. Take Star Swirl the Bearded, for example. He is generally considered a hero among Equestrians, is he not? Griffons, however, call him 'the Galestealer', the one who tried to take their magic away. Of course there are claims that the same griffons stole a bunch of magical artifacts from him in the first place thanks to which they discovered their own connection to magic, but that’s a different story.”

“Be nice and don’t tell it around Glavia, okay?”

“You want a less personal example? Very well. Star Swirl versus merponies. Oh, they straight despise him, as according to their mythology he banished their three makers-goddesses to another world where he believed their supposedly harmful magic would be lost. Interesting, no?”

“Whaddya know, my perspectives have never been broader,” Spike quipped.

“Not every piece of information will change the world, granted, but even those minor ones have value. They can be exchanged in a casual talk and are, in themselves, good conversation starters.”

Spike’s wince spoke volumes about how absurd the notion was. “Why, certainly,” he said, swiveling. “Hi, I’m Spike, let me get you a drink. Oh, by the way, did you know that the last important military figure of the Crystal Empire was a girl called Jade?”

“Really? My cousin’s named Jade!” Merrot feigned his interest to the letter. “What was her last name, charming?”

“Sea, obviously. No, wait! Echo! Jade Echo! Argh!”

“Yeah, this isn’t gonna work. Barkeeper, Angel Shot with ice. On me.”

“You’re not my type, anyway.” Spike scowled before they both dropped their acts. “Face it. History classes are for teachers to teach and for students to learn and have no value whatsoever. You can’t make a chat with someone who’s not a history buff with, say”—he snatched a loose sheet off Merrot’s notebook behind his back—“asking them how long was the reign of Princess Amore, or which gemstones made the crest before it became a snowflake. Or what was the name of the position… wait, what?”

Spike skimmed the sheet in disbelief. The questions Merrot had been feeding him with were printed, not written by hoof, and definitely not improvised with the sole intention of including yet another bad pun. Every question had its answers grouped in fours, but only one among them was marked with an aggressively blue highlighter. Merrot, upon realizing what happened, reached out for the paper frantically.

“Where did you get that?” Spike asked in a hushed voice. “You don’t do time travel, do you?”

“Only to the past,” the changeling replied. “See the date in the corner? A friend of mine whose name is to be left undisclosed has luckily had Tale-Little misplace it when she-slash-he was taking her class last year.”

“And you’ve been preparing for it since?”

“Of course not! I’ve only had it for a couple of cycles now. Days, sorry. Maybe a week.”

Spike’s eye twitched. “A couple of days? A week? Oh, that’s rich.” He threw his arms in the air. “You’ve been sitting on it for a week and you didn’t share it with your friends? Come on, I could’ve had this weekend off, for all that’s fiery!”

“Friend or not, you should not impute your lack of preparedness to me, Just-Spike. Yesterday you didn’t even know we’re having a test and as you can see, I am forsaking my own weekend off to help you right now.”

“Oh, that’s very noble of you and all, sure, but I don’t recall asking you for help.” Spike snarled. “But here’s a thought: if you had told me about the answers sooner, we could both be doing something else, but nooo, you’d rather stash them for yourself.” He wondered for a moment, and although there was no one but statues within earshot, he exclaimed mockingly, “There goes the mystery behind Piro-Merrot’s good marks, everyone. Come and see how he stays ahead of his classmates by being a jerk, as apparently he’s the only one allowed to ace exams!”

“Here’s a counter-thought for you!” Merrot talked back. “Had I shared the answers earlier, the chances of them surfacing would increase at an alarming rate with every conversation taken on the topic of history, Crystal Empire, or general school matters. Should that have happened, Tale-Little would undoubtedly change the questions, scramble the answers, perhaps do something else to make sure we receive a test of adequate difficulty.” He glared at the dragon. “Do tell me my logic is flawed. Do tell me that.”

“You know it’s not.” Spike shot a finger at him. “Just make your point already.”

“It occurred to me it would be wise to share it at the last possible moment to minimize the risk. I intended to give them to you and Arva-Glavia on Sunday evening, maybe late-late afternoon, but when I saw how terribly clustered you are with your… well, everything history-related, I decided to weave the questions into your study session before revealing them tomorrow. It still posed a risk, but you could say that my good nature has won over in this case.”

“Good nature, right. You just didn’t trust me enough.” Spike reached out for the sheet in Merrot’s grasp, but the changeling took a step back. Spike mirrored it, doubling the distance between them. “And you still don’t. You know what? Keep the test, keep the answers. I don’t need them. I’ll just go and spend the rest of the day and night and day again and do something about my ‘lack of preparedness’. Maybe I’ll even learn how big were the spots on… on Chancellor Crystalline Sparrow’s favorite flower pot!” he retorted with scorn. “Some friend you are.”

Oh, how much he yearned for Merrot to utter a comment, to say Crystalline Arrow’s name correctly like a stupid know-it-all he was. Spike stormed off, but heard no call behind him. Grr. Dumb changeling couldn’t even do that right! Spike didn’t need him—he was going to show him and everybody else that he could pass without anyone’s help, and if not, then fine, there were always other ways to put his smug face in line.

Then again, why wait? He already had a nice reason for his magic to blaze, for him to lash out at the changeling like he deserved. Grr! Idiot Merrot could talk all he wanted about how history was important but that wasn’t going to help him in real life. In fact, close to nothing they learned here was! Five-day grind week by week, theories crammed into his head, pointless homework, were those the grand experiences Kryvarost promised? How on earth his mentor thought Spike could discover the scope of his magic if he was being pestered by trivialities?

He shouldn’t have enrolled here. A nice, isolated place far from things that were holding him back would do. He clenched his fists. Oddly, that calmed him down a bit. The perspective of leaving was enticing, but Canterlot was still a nice place to be.

Spike’s musings took him beyond the statues of Knowledge, Concord, and further around the one of Trust which presented a pair of ponies climbing a chunk of white rock, the one on the top holding the other firmly. He cornered it without much thought, deep into planning his study session. First, he was going to revise chapter four on the rule of Princess Amore, then he’d move to the Empire’s war with the changelings—hmm, he could probably skip the Great Yak Smashing and its repercussions to save time—and then go to the fall of the Crystal Empire. It wasn’t so bad, was it? He had time, all the answers were in the textbook, and the textbook was…?

Well of course he’d left it behind.

Groaning, he trailed his claws across his face and stomped all the way back to Lady Knowledge and the bench facing her. Merrot’s bag and books were still out there which, interestingly, couldn’t be said about the changeling himself.

“Hey, Merrot!” Spike called nowhere in particular. “Your stuff’s just laying around for anyone to take it! Just saying.”

“…require—assistance!” Merrot’s fain plea was heard between gurgling and gasping for breath. “Help. Me. Just—Spike!”

Wasting no time on thinking, Spike headed towards a neatly trimmed hedge. The strangled cry came from… there, commotion in the bushes!

Right behind some bell-shaped flowers, over the wall of green he spotted an intricate helmet in the likes of nothing he had ever seen. It wasn’t that of a Royal Guard, as instead of a crest in the middle it featured two pairs of pointy wings arching up and to the sides, joining together like a halo.

Spike lunged across the foliage straight at an armored equine wrestling Merrot who was evidently losing their power struggle. Accelerated mass combined into enough force to pin anyone to the ground, but the abundance of steel plates absorbed most of the slam, nonetheless causing the intruder to fall to his knee.

Spike tumbled forth. He collected himself quickly and measured the adversary rising before him.

The halo wasn’t really wings, but flat beams arranged around the head. The material used either varied from beam to beam or was iridescent in itself, as the helmet shined with many hues when the pony was turning his head, beholding Spike. The dominating color was a royal shade of purple in which the most of the rest of the armor was made, save for elegant outlines of an imposing cuirass and oversized shoulder pads. To offset the clunky appearance of the hammer-heavy boots, the knight-like pony swooshed his golden cape sporting a symbol of a lily and revealed a rope in his hoof. The other end leashed Merrot’s neck.

Spike growled, breathing emerald flames into his claws and wielding them like a gauntlet. The raw power crackling between his fingers felt familiar, much more than it did during classes when he was holding back. Now he didn’t have to, and it felt good. It felt right.

“Let him go!” he demanded. “Now.”

“You shall do wisely if you choose to not interfere, master dragon!” the figure replied dramatically, his voice old and branded with metallic echo. He detached a short, pointed shaft from his armor and shook it, causing it to expand three times in length. The spear’s crystalline tip shined menacingly with blue light. “I seek no quarrel with the most noble emissaries of your kind, but I shall not be swayed from my path.”

Merrot loosened the leash enough to speak. “I invoke… the power… of the Cultural Exchange Treaty between Changeling Hive Chrysalis and Equestria!”

“Silence, foul face-stealer! There can be no treating with your nation, regardless of the name you’re rallying behind!” the knight proclaimed and jerked the rope, wrapping it further around his hoof. “You shall face adequate fate for the crimes your kind has committed. The judgment is upon you”—he raised his spear—“and I shall pass it gladly.”

“I will give—the test back—I’m sorry!” Merrot coughed, tears coming to his eyes. “I didn’t want—to! Feldora, ancestors, save me!”

An aegis of emerald flames appeared over Merrot’s head. The knight withheld his strike, hesitated, but the shield remained in place, chained to the dragon’s gauntlet with a burning trail. He twirled the spear and sought another opening.

A flick of the wrist. The aegis erupted with a one-sided explosion that hurled him backwards with Merrot’s bound neck obediently following the leash. The changeling fluttered his wings with all his might, but could not break free.

“I said LET HIM GO!” Spike shouted and sent a flaming sphere flying.

The knight’s reflexes were sharp. He must have been a veteran, no stranger to the size of his own armor. He shifted his balance, pinned the spear into the ground to secure the rope and produced a small buckler from underneath his cape. He leaned forward and raised it at an odd angle, but the spell, instead of splashing over its surface, suddenly changed its trajectory and blasted a nearby flowerbed.

Blast. Only last week Spike had promised to minimize the damage caused by his magic. It was burdensome enough as it was, but ponies asking to become collaterals weren’t making it any easier.

He caught a glimpse of the buckler’s backside. It was embedded with enough gemstones to warp a spell’s path, but was the knight a spellcaster himself? Spike opened to the flow of magic between them. Somehow, the particles were ordered inside the pony, but their movement around him was erratic, chaotic. Not only the buckler, but likely the armor as well were responsible for that, which meant that guy was both trained and equipped to hold his ground against magic.

Bared teeth his Spike's grin. One of the laws of spellcasting stated that an object’s capacity to alter the energy flux was proportional to its mass, so he could simply add more fire to make the buckler—and the pony—crack.

“You are a worthy opponent, master dragon. I can see you have heart.”

“Grr. Wanna see yours?”

Spike split the flames in two, one bonfire in each hand, and renewed the assault. More fiery spheres blasted towards the pony, yet to no avail, as the smaller dispersed at the mere proximity of the armor, and the larger were deflected into the foliage. The pony maintained his advance, slow at first but gaining momentum with each weighty stomp. They both charged—they clashed. Spike put his magic aside in favor of a more direct approach and marked a fierce strike at the pony’s muzzle.

His opponent went for an appropriate dodge and countered with an iron jab at the dragon’s ribcage. The strike was heavy and graceless. Spike dashed swiftly to the side and yanked the cape. The other staggered, did his best to regain his balance, but a good kick in the flank toppled him. Spike pressed the advantage and thrust himself forward, pinning the pony to the ground.

“You fight with no honor!” the knight taunted.

Spike’s instincts took over and stoked his desire to set something on fire even further. He growled in vengeful satisfaction. The raw arcane power was but a breath away and his adversary was squirming like a hopeless hatchling. Weak! He deserved to become the subject of a mighty dragon’s wrath. Spike inhaled sharply, greeting the inferno building inside his lungs like a long-awaited prize. The power was growing within him. He was the power.

Fire lavished at the pony who barely managed to hide his face behind the buckler. The stream curved to the side, continuously roasting the shrubbery, but after the buckler moved a few degrees and trapped the flames inside its magic-skewing field, the full force of the fire breath came back at Spike. However fireproof, he couldn’t see a thing for a moment, which was more than enough for the pony to turn the tables. One sudden shift in gravity later Spike wound up on his shoulder blades with the steel behemoth pressing at his chest. Worse—the armor was disrupting the arcane field around them. The streams became slippery, went out of his reach. He couldn’t hold them. He couldn’t… grab… his power!

“You are beaten,” the stallion declared. “Surrender now and I shall spare your well-being.”

The spear’s crystalline tip slid between the armor plates and stopped an inch from the pony's neck.

“You talk too much for a Warrior,” Merrot drawled. “Move.”

The stallion stepped off the dragon's chest and pulled back slowly. Kneeling before he stood up, Spike put his clenched fist next to his heart and held his breath, then drew an arc, taking the fist away and opening it. He exhaled. Without the magic surging through him, the primal rage was leaving him as well.

He examined the backside of the buckler and its embedded gemstones. On the whole, the shield was sturdy and firm, but it definitely didn’t just come straight from under a blacksmith’s hammer. The scratched rim had been bitten twofold: once by time itself, twice by some sort of a fanged creature. Similarly, some of the blacked gems must have been likely already done for when Spike’s fire was reaching them, while others were radiating warmth unlike the cold iron at his fingers. Spike flipped the buckler. The front side sported a familiar, if vaguely visible white snowflake against the purple background.

“You’re from the Crystal Empire!” Spike exclaimed. “Why did you attack him? You do know you guys are at peace, right?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t be surprised if merely driving the invaders off stood for peace in your tongue, master dragon. For us, however, peace means a time when there shall be no war at all. When the Empire is safe from all threats.”

“Like… it is right now?” He glanced at Merrot for help. The changeling scratched his head, but ultimately shook it, clueless. “Because, you know, there hasn’t been a war between you two since, I don’t know, a thousand years or something? Surely you can’t be mad about that? Take it after your Princess Cadance—even she and Queen Chrysalis are practically besties now.”

The stallion tapped his chin, metal-to-metal style.

“I am unfamiliar with this Princess Cadance you speak of. Is she, perchance, a relative to Princess Amore?” he asked, but the dragon denied. “No? Then I say she is yet another usurper on the Empire’s throne!”

“Nope, she’s actually legit,” Merrot said still holding him at spearpoint. “My, uh, associate here was instrumental in helping her reclaim the Crystal Heart.”

“That’s right. Spike the Brave and Glorious. You may have heard about me.”

“Alas, my memory serves me not today. I am certain I would have remembered a Drachelean bearing such an impressive title.”

“Was that an insult?” Merrot whispered.

Clueless in the matters of pony history, Spike knew that of his own kin well.

“Drachelea was a country of dragons that existed long before the Dominion, sort of a dragon democracy. The thing is, it collapsed… eight centuries ago, give or take fifty years,” he said. He could let pass a crystal pony not knowing him, but somebody not knowing anything about the current day and age—that was puzzling. “Alright, new topic. You’re in Canterlot, Equestria right now. Do you know what Equestria is?” he asked in hope of finding out if the pony wasn’t mental.

“But of course! Equestria is a post-tribal diarchy founded by unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies. It’s a young nation, but has already proven a mighty ally against the face-stealers.” A scornful snort came from inside the helmet. “If you desire to insult my knowledge, master dragon, then you may as well be done with me right this instant.”

“Hold on a second, what ‘young nation’? How old do you think it is?”

“Nearing its second century, I believe.”

The pieces were slowly coming together, creating a frame to a picture of a pony who wasn’t just a nutjob.

“Merrot?”

“Yes?”

“Put the glowstick down. Something tells me we won’t be needing it.” He crouched by the knight. “Alright buddy, where to begin? What I’m about to tell you may sound strange, but I assure you it is the honest truth. So, the year today by the Equestrian calendar is 1216…”

“What trickery!”

“Ah-ah, just bear with me. So, that’s twelve centuries counting from the founding of Equestria, and a little more than a thousand years since King Sombra took over the Crystal Empire. Just to be on the same page, does his name sounds familiar to you?”

The stallion sat down with a loud clang, his head hung in shame, or perhaps regret. He nodded reluctantly. “It does indeed. He’s the vile individual who turned Princess Amore into a crystal statue and shattered it, scattering the fragments across the land. Then he usurped the throne, hiding the Crystal Heart to break the spirit of our nation. Alas, quite successfully.” He looked at them with new interest. “I understand Princess Cadance is his daughter?”

Spike whistled. “Wow, and I thought I had a backlog. Listen, the most important thing is that the Crystal Empire is fine now and that there is no war with the changelings. It has a new ruler, not Sombra, and the city, the castle, the Crystal Heart… it’s all still out there. I mean, it was technically gone for a thousand years after King Sombra cursed it shortly before he fell, but it got better.” He shrugged. “Yup, I think that covers it. Any questions?”

“Bah! You expect me to believe that? I shall not believe a word unless I see it for myself!”

“Sure, we can help you get there”—Spike snapped his fingers—“or better yet, we can get you to Princess Celestia first! She’s the one who defeated King Sombra the first time. You know about Equestria—ever heard of her?”

“Young Princess Celestia continues to reign? In good health, I shall hope?” he said with a hitherto unheard of dose of openness which, however, he quickly withdrew. “But you claim the Empire has a new sovereign. Do you speak the truth? Is the tyrant no more? This is… good,” he added, but didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Hmm, I doubt you’d bother coming up with such an elaborate lie if you wanted my demise, therefore I am willing to consider your words and the offer. However, know that I find this entire situation confusing and, well… utterly bizarre.”

“Lucky for you, bizarre is what we do best,” Merrot said. “How about you start by telling us your name?”

The pony straightened up. He removed his helmet, revealing an appearance of a venerable stallion chiseled in deep lemon crystal. His impressive mustache was fashioned after a horseshoe, went around his muzzle and mouth, down to his chin when it joined into a well polished orange beard. Other than that chunk of hair, he was bald, or at least there was no trace of any mane under a hood made of tiny metal rings interlocking with one another. His eyes, two shining emeralds, looked tired but noble still.

“I believe we were unfortunate to have started on the wrong hoof, master Spike the Brave and Glorious, and that additional introductions on my part are required,” he spoke. “I am Sir Gallant Gleam, Knight Protector of the Crystal Empire and a humble servant for righteousness within the Order of the Crystal Lily. At your service.” He took a courtly bow. “Those who wish good for the Crystal Princess and the Empire are friends of mine as well, though I am surprised to see a Drachelean, or whichever noble name your nation bears these days, in the company of a face-stealer.”

“A changeling,” Spike pointed out.

The knight moved closer to Spike in the clandestine manner. “Do blink twice if you are held hostage by this creature. They are known for kidnapping ponies and sinking their teeth in their hearts to harvest their spirits upon which they feed.”

“We don’t do anything like that!” Merrot protested. “We’re using strictly noninvasive methods. Look!” He ran across the smoldered flowerbed to a nearby statue of Love and hissed in. “Aaah. See? Like this!”

“Cunning monstrosities they’ve evolved into,” Gallant Gleam judged. “Now they want to bereave us of our air as well. A vile concept, but expected much.”

“What? How are we the ones working a vile concept? Hello! Rope, neck, bereaving of air? How do you call that concept?”

Gallant Gleam shot his muzzle upwards.

“Justice. You’re a liar and evildoer in the service of liars and evildoers!”

Merrot’s horn shimmered, changing from red to crimson the closer to the statue he stepped. Gallant Gleam assumed the position with his buckler ready. They froze, engaging in a battle of stares no less heated than the fires.

Spike ran between them. “Merrot, take it easy! He didn’t mean that. And you, Sir Gallant, haven’t you got a word I said? There is no war with the changelings. It’s done! Equestria is at peace with them, the Empire is at peace with them, everyone’s at peace with them! So don’t you dare doing anything stupid around this one because he’s with me, and like me he wishes well for the Crystal Princess. Don’t you, Merrot?”

“Well, duh. Crystal Empire is our top supplier,” the changeling replied, detuning himself from the magic. “They’ve got the good stuff.”

“I shall take it as a compliment, if from a questionable source,” Gallant Gleam said. “Very well. Master Spike, I’ve heard a great many things about the Sun Princess in the north and I would very much like to make her acquaintance. Not to mention a knight should always offer gratitude to the leader of the kingdom he’s passing through!” he added as an afterthought while his hoof went up to his stomach. He croaked an old pony’s chuckle. “Of course I would hate to embarrass myself with my petty needs. Would you be kind to advise me to the nearest tavern first? One where fair maidens of Canterlot are serving your finest mead?”

Spike’s own stomach growled. All that fighting made him hungry.

“Well, I don’t know about mead, but our cafeteria makes some great juices. We can take your there and to the Princess, but you have to promise that you won’t try to fight anyone on the way.”

“Yes, I might have acted hastily and I see it now. I am deeply ashamed that my words and actions have gone against what is considered proper around here. I do hope that Canterlot and your radiant leader will not hold that against me. Master, uh, changeling, do come here.” He beckoned and raised his hoof piously. “I hereby swear on my honor I will refrain myself from doing you harm as long as you remain respectful towards the ways of my Order, the Empire, and the memory of the Crystal Princess.” He leaned his head in a nod that was just respectful enough. “You seem to have master Spike’s trust. I heard that’s a rather rare thing to earn from a dragon.”

Spike and Merrot’s glances never crossed. Trust was quickly becoming the word of the day.

* * *

The trio headed across the garden back to the school grounds. Some of the bases they passed by were vacant, waiting for new truths or virtues to arise, or for the return of those already set in stone but undergoing renovation.

The lake plastered on the vast field of green divided the grounds with the help of two paved paths. The one along the northern bank led straight to the Archives, and the other to school’s main building and dormitories with a cafeteria situated between those two. The venue bore perhaps the strongest resemblance to the Royal Castle itself with its miniature towers and perky spires, as if the architects chose to put all elegance they had to spare into that one building, leaving the rest ordinary in comparison.

One would think the food quality to be equally royal, but that was not the case and became something of a joke among students. Although it wasn’t amazing it was nonetheless not terrible either, so perhaps those were just Canterlotians talking, malcontents used to finer dining. They weren’t really eating the crumbs off Princesses’ table. Of course Spike’s favorite triple-layered sapphire cream rolls weren’t on the menu, but he’d rather stay in a shape in case of any calls of statuary nature.

“And you have no idea how you’ve landed here in the future?” he asked.

“Not really, no,” Gallant Gleam replied. “One moment I was in the Nephrite Forest investigating a cave for a possible changeling threat, then I saw a light… the next thing I know I’m treading on rosebuds,” he said, enjoying the sights on the way. “It’s a most intriguing place, this Canterlot. The architecture is quite different, but nothing short of impressive, of course. Oh, and this reminds me of Lazuli Lake during summertime festivities! Yet still, I imagined the place to be more crowded, having heard it to be the first and centermost settlement of Equestria.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see no merchants nor plebeians, only journeyfolk of trades unbeknownst to me and, excuse me for saying that, but your knights are strangely dressed,” he added at a colorful group that was the drama club absorbed in their own shenanigans. “And speaking of, I should have inquired earlier whether or not you belong to an order yourself. Master changeling?”

“Well, back home I dedicated myself to the Feeder Caste. It’s probably as close as it gets for us to be in some kind of an organization.”

“My knowledge does not go as far as your land lies, admittedly, but I value the notion of service towards a greater purpose all the same,” he said. “How about you, master Spike?”

Spike shrugged indifferently. “Nah, I’ve got nothing. I’m only a student around here. We both are.”

“A student? Is that how one should regard a squire in these parts?”

“No, see, this place has nothing to do with orders like yours. It’s just a school.”

“Then you preserve knowledge, a noble cause! Yet I still find it strange to hold academia within castle grounds.” Gallant Gleam wasn’t letting go. “Given your aptitude you must be on your path to knighthood, correct?”

“No, we’re—you know what, yes. We are of the local Order of Gifted Individuals. We just value modesty so much we don’t brag about it.” Spike pushed the cafeteria door open. “After you, master knight.”

“I had no idea we were incorporated,” Merrot said on the side. “Just-Spike, what is it that we’re doing? This guy is out of time, out of place, and out of our jurisdiction. Would it not be better to contact the Royal Guard and let them escort him to the Princess?”

“And what, go back to this?” Spike waved his textbook. “No way. If he somehow traveled a thousand years into the future then he’s a literal font of knowledge about the ancient Crystal Empire. He probably knows things that aren’t even in the books. Tell me that you’d rather read it all over again. Tell me that your brain isn’t melting and I’ll gladly point him to the nearest post. Just think about it. When was the last time you could actually experience history like that?”

“Last month at the Castle of the Two Sisters.”

His mouth open, Spike raised his claw to rebuke the argument, but words failed him much to Merrot’s impending gloat.

“Nevertheless,” the changeling continued, “your logic is sound and I agree that by spending more time with him we can only gain, and I myself can’t say I’m not intrigued by this knight culture. Got to admit though, I’m a little surprised to see you so keen on studying history all of a sudden.”

“Oh, no, don’t get me wrong, history still sucks. But I’ll take it if it comes with an extra adventure on the side. Might be fun.”

“Adventure? Fun?” Merrot placed his hoof on the door. “Aren’t you short a horn for such an attitude?”

Compared to the distinctive flair of the outside, the cafeteria interior was bland. Round tables with seats in the form of rings fixed around each of them occupied the room. There was a path carved through the middle leading to the serving zone, a few strategically placed bins, and a teacher’s table equipped with regular chairs, tablecloth and enough napkin-packed holsters to keep it clean for a year. It even had dedicated salts and peppers, something which was always three tables away regardless of where the grey masses chose to sit.

Gallant Gleam doffed his helmet and was making his way between the tables, inadvertently pushing them left and right.

“A curious decor for a tavern, young masters,” he said louder than it was necessary, and in doing so attracted curious glances from the few students present. “I presume this is for day meals only? I imagine no feasting here after sundown, not without at least a few torches, and certainly not on those tables. They do not seem suitable for heavy dining! Nonetheless, it would explain your figure, master Spike. I understand master Merrot is dining better elsewhere?” he asked, to which Merrot’s cheeks went as red as his eyes. “Not to worry, I appreciate a decent meal myself, preferably with bards playing for ambience. But where are your bards? Where is the music? Where are your fair maidens?” he demanded, looking around. “Ah! I retract my last!”

An apple rolled across the floor. Gallant Gleam was quick to grab it, wipe with a monogrammed handkerchief, and offer back with due courtesy.

Silk Stocking was wearing some brand new garments—rocking them, in fact—which Spike could only accurately describe because Rarity had spent quite some time talking about her upcoming autumn collection. That particular piece was the Carousel Enterprises exclusive blue sweater made of cashmere, with a silver zipper and something called a funnel neck or ‘all the rage this season, darling’, to quote the expert. Edition so limited Rarity claimed the chances of any two ponies attending the same party wearing it were practically nonexistent. She also claimed it would be impossible to ignore a girl sporting such an ensemble.

Darn, if she wasn’t right. It matched Silk Stocking’s slender figure nicely and made her look almost appealing, all the more when she accepted the fruit with a shade of abashment on her perfect demeanor.

“Oh? Thank you, mister…?”

“Sir Gallant Gleam, Knight Protector of the Crystal Empire and a humble servant for righteousness within the Order of the Crystal Lily,” the pony recited and laid a gentle kiss on Silk’s hoof. “At your service, my lady.”

Abashment bloomed into blush, but the filly must have recalled her roots as she quickly straightened up into a proper pose. “You bear a most impressive title, and your refinement is like a breath of fresh air.” She bobbed a curtsy to him. “I am Silk Stocking, daughter of Prince Blueblood and Duchess Satin Frill. To what do we owe the pleasure of having you in Canterlot, Sir Gallant?”

“I have come to seek advice from wise Princess Celestia, may her reign be prosperous and even longer. My visit shall be brief. I expect to return to the Crystal Empire with haste.”

“Aw, that’s unfortunate. I’d love to have my father introduce you to some of the more distinguished personas around, and should you ever grew tired of their company, I’d be happy to show you around the city myself.”

“You honor me with your hospitality.” He was overusing his bows to ridicule. “I would be very much in favor of staying for at least a day longer to acquaintance him and to see the wonders your land has to offer. Yet I have a feeling, had I stayed for a day, neigh, a week, it would still be not enough to fully appreciate your exquisite grace, my lady!” he said, eliciting a surprised but still dignified chuckle from the filly. “Young masters here are helping me around, at least. They were already kind enough to show me the artistry of the statue garden.”

“Oh, were they now?” Silk Stocking’s tone turned dismissive. “Well, I suppose for every knight there’s a dragon to match. I see that your company has improved by large, Spike. I always knew you were worth more than to hang out with the losers’ league.”

Yeah, she was pretty—and that was coming from someone who spent a good chunk of his youth surrounded by beautiful mares—but she also had that annoying tendency of opening her mouth and talking.

“At least I have someone to hang out with, Silk,” he retorted with his arms crossed.

The filly gave a belittling laughter. “Nice try, but I do have friends, and in high places too. I really don’t need spares around here. Besides, if you want something done…”

“You call your father to do it?” Merrot interjected, but that didn’t even rustle Silk Stocking’s composure.

“No, silly.” Cupping his chin, she granted him a venomous smile. “You call other changelings with whom you share history.”

Merrot’s face twitched as he chuckled nervously.

“Hey, uh, what are you doing here on the weekend, anyway?” Spike cut in between them. “Weren’t you supposed to go on a trip or something? You’ve mentioned it like several times.”

“Unfortunately, we had to cancel our flight due to a minor issue with the engine. Something about… honestly, I couldn’t care less about what’s leaking from where.” She shrugged and hovered her Across the Ages 1 and other belongings closer. “Not a great loss, I suppose, especially with the upcoming exam. Which reminds me, since you’ve been behaving so well lately”—she leaned towards them, the scent of her perfume rich and intoxicating—“I heard that Professor Little Tale has prepared an entirely new set of questions, which means the ones from the previous years have become… obsolete.”

“Oh, have they now?” Spike mocked her own tone.

“Indeed they have, which means those who are merely trying to memorize the basics instead of learning the material itself will most likely fail. They will become a laughing stock of our class and, in consequence, the entire society.” She sighed melancholically. “But I suppose it’s all the same to you, climbing the ladder or tumbling down, given that you’re already sticking with certain ponies commonly considered as, let’s say, less than capable?” Waiting not for the answer, she turned to the knight and nodded him goodbye. “Until next time, Sir Gallant. Please enjoy your stay in our little center of the world.”

“I shall enjoy it greatly, lady Silk. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yeah, Razzle sends her best too!” Spike called on parting.

Silk Stocking gave them a fleeting look. “Don’t we all?” She nibbled the apple and left.

Merrot grabbed himself by the head. “Alright, alright, after how precautious I’ve been and after all my careful planning, just HOW ON DEPTHS did she find out about the last year’s test? Do you think Tale-Little has really prepared an alternate version? With new questions? What are we supposed to do, take it on without preparing first? Without knowing them?” he moaned on the verge of hyperventilating. “Oh, we are doomed. All is lost!”

“Hey, take it easy, tough guy,” Spike reassured him and handed him a few bits. “We’ll think of something later, don’t worry about it. Right now, how about you go get us something, okay?”

“Yes, yes. That I can do. I-I just strongly dislike surprises, is all. I will be back in a moment…”

Gallant Gleam squeezed himself at the table. “Master Merrot is indeed very different from the changelings I’ve encountered. He does not strike me as inherently… dangerous.”

“Only to himself.”

The tried and tested way to calm Merrot down was to give him money. Not that he was a spoiled brat who lived from one broken toy to another, but because the idea of monetary transactions was as alien to changelings as they themselves used to be to ponies. According to Merrot, the internal dealings of the Hive didn’t need coverage in gold or bank notes as all changelings shared their skills and sought no personal wealth. They only needed bits to conduct business with the surface, and even then they felt like they were trading worthless piles of yellow and paper for something of feasible value.

It was always funny to watch Merrot do shopping, but he needed someone less naive to make sure he’s not spending too much. Spike knew both the value of coin and the immense pleasure of amassing it, which was why he’d cashed in a few of the Dominion’s rare gemstones shortly upon his arrival. So far he hadn’t had any major expenses and wasn’t expecting any to come up.

He was just bread-clearing the bowl of a decent mushroom stew when Gallant Gleam put his own down.

“Delicious! While I am glad I was spared a millennium of hunger to sate, I’m convinced this would have done for at least a couple of decades.” He leaned over the table. “However, it did not go unnoticed that you haven’t shown proper respect towards lady Silk. It pierces my soul to see such little consideration in that matter from two young gentle-persons. What gives?”

Spike belched. “ ‘Scuse me. She’s not that kind of a lady and her dad’s not a real prince, I think. She’s just someone who doesn’t get along with our friend, so she’s getting it back in kind.”

“Royalty or not, she remains a lady in the eyes of a knight,” Gallant Gleam adamantly replied. “I am willing to believe that many great things have changed since my times, but fillies and mares alike have to be held in high regard regardless of circumstances, always. There’s no honor in treating them unkindly upon even a chance meeting! Pardon me for saying that, but ‘not getting along’ is a fool’s excuse,” he added. “More so, one has to remain ready to serve and look after those mares, if not of goodness of heart then to temper the virtues of humility and patience. How else are you going to find a lady of your heart if not by being knightly?”

Merrot raised his hoof. “I have a related question. Let us assume, clearly theoretically, that there is a lady whom someone I know would like to call the lady of his heart. Would becoming a knight help him capture her attention?”

“It certainly would, but it is no title with which he should aspire to woo her. He has to be virtuous. He must not tell lies. He must be ready to protect her. He must swear himself to her service and be ready to carry her burdens when she so desires. Above all else, he must not expect anything but her smile in return, for the service has to fill every fiber of his being. He has to have heart!” Gallant Gleam said, slamming his chest with a loud rustle. “Is the said assumed lady of pleasurable looks?”

“Yes—I mean—I think, because, you know, I’m asking for a friend.” When Gallant Gleam pointed questioningly at the notebook Merrot had been filling with his every word, the changeling couldn’t hide his embarrassment. “He, uh, he has short memory.”

“Well, if your friend is to become a knight, I wish him all the best. There are many ways of approaching the subject: he can become an excellent lancer like Sir Quicksilver whose famous charge at the Galloping Gorge sealed the Empire’s victory over rogue yaks. Or he can be more of a scholar like Sir Glass Jasper, if he seeks no glory in battle, and come up with an even better ointment for cracked cheeks. Now that’s how you capture Chancellor Crystalline Arrow’s daughter’s attention! He can even become a Knight Protector of his own land if that’s what his heart desires. All are difficult roads, but satisfaction from following them is immeasurable.” He raised his cup. “I propose a toast to all who follow and will follow the most noble of paths. To them, and to the ladies of our hearts! Master Spike, join us!”

Raising his cup, Spike thought about… things. Yeah, finding some dreamed up ‘lady of his heart’ definitely wasn’t high on his to-do list.

For once!

* * *

Getting two civilians plus a steel hulk into the castle required facing tons of rules and regulations, none of which made it any easier to get an audience. A single, unscheduled visitor could usually invoke the right to be heard by their sovereign and thus skip the formalities, but groups of two or more, the nature of which was not homogenous, with the exclusion of diplomatic or cultural entourages pre-authorized and put on the list at least a week yada yada yada could not just march in and hope for the best.

That’s just for starters, because all military personnel that wasn’t part of the Royal Guard or its subdivisions—which effectively extended to every armed individual from outside Equestria—had to either present a safe conduct with an up to date stamp proving the supplicant’s right to represent the interests of their country, or had to apply to be willfully relieved of any and all equipment of pointy nature. Having Gallant Gleam get the former would take days spent on a wonderful bureaucratic tour around the Crystal Empire, but asking him for the latter was received as borderline rude.

On top of all that, more personal obstacles arose.

“Ugh, not that guy again.” Spike halted with the Perihelion Gate in the distance. “Well, there goes my plan of talking our way through.”

“What, you know him?” Merrot asked.

“Since last week, kind of. You know how I like throwing pebbles at the lake?”

“Indeed. Your hit-to-miss ratio is downright depressing.”

“I’m getting better. The point is, that guy didn’t like it. Said something about disturbing peace.” Spike shrugged innocently. “I mean, I may have set some on fire, but what I think really pissed him off was me talking back. Calling him ‘Commander Beard’ too, I think. They should let you and Sir Gallant meet with the Princess no problem, but I’m out.”

“Abandoning a companion? This shall not stand!” Gallant Gleam protested. “A dragon of your aptitude must have certain connections!”

“I doubt that even telling them I know Twilight would help. I guess we could wait, but the next changing of the guard comes at five, I think.”

“Six,” Merrot murmured. He mulled over something deeply, his frown betraying the gears whirring inside. “Just-Spike, a word, please. I… may have an alternative solution. Your bearded friend there”—he nodded at the gate undergoing its personnel’s thorough inspection—“his name is actually Second Lieutenant Wave Heart of the Third Warder Division. He has recently returned from Yakyakistan where he has been, you guessed it, warding off the dangers of ice and snow,” Merrot chuckled. “Just look at him polishing their badges. Rumor has it he is next in line for promotion, so naturally he wants to keep his record untarnished. Therefore, I am positive I can get all three of us into the castle via, uh, unconventional means.”

Spike looked at him inquisitively.

“Unconventional how?”

“Straightforward for me, likely disturbing for you.”

“You’re hiding any more tests somewhere, is that what you’re saying?”

“Something along the lines,” the changeling replied. “Do you trust me?”

Spike tucked their morning clash at the back of his mind and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get back to it right now. What intrigued him still was Merrot’s fishy knowledge about the Royal Guard.

“On occasions.”

“Let us hope now is one of those times. Wait here—I’ll be back momentarily.”

Merrot fluttered away, leaving Spike at the mercy of Gallant Gleam’s reminiscing about his own trusted companions. Spike found it valuable rather than boring. Some historical figures mentioned were known to him, others less so, but getting additional insights straight from the horse’s mouth was a blessing he sought. Perhaps Lady Knowledge struck a deal with Lady Luck and he wasn’t going to flunk history… or perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

Merrot was yet to return when a bulky guardspony came in his place.

“Mr. Spike! My name is Root Primer,” the guard spoke in a sufficiently post-adolescent voice. “I received a message from your incredibly smart and handsome friend Piro-Merrot that you require my assistance. I am here to escort you both to Her Majesty.”

Spike trailed his claws across his face. This was never going to work.

“A proper entourage, how wonderful!” Gallant Gleam cheered. “I shall say, you don a well-crafted armor, kind sir. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Sir Gallant Gleam, Knight Protector—”

“Yes, yes, a pleasure,” Root Primer cut him off and hastily shook the knight’s hoof, whispering to Spike on the side. “Superb, so now he respects me. Should’ve become a Warrior .”

Gallant Gleam did a double-take. “Hold on a moment! Master Merrot?” He backed off, affronted. “Is it necessary to resort to disguises and trickery to request an audience these days? Master Spike, do talk some sense to him—does that not strike at your feeling of integrity? I desire to meet the Sun Princess, true, but by sacrificing our nobility, cheating like that? Is this the way of a noble knight!”

“You tell me. Would you rather leave a companion behind or take a little detour around the truth with him?”

Gallant Gleam’s cheeks dulled, losing their shine in a way a non-crystal pony would turn pale, but he said nothing.

At the gate, two halberds crossed before them.

“Halt! State your business,” one of the guards barked.

“Private Root Primer of the Reserves!” their escort replied, saluting. “Sir Gallant Gleam of the Crystal Empire here and his aide Spike the Dragon of the SGI would like to request an audience. The former has an inquiry of importance for the Princess.”

“We don’t have any official visits from the Empire scheduled for today. Is any of them in the Royal Guard? Are they part of a group? Did you go through the processing first? Does he have the papers? Diplomatic immunity? Anything?” the guard questioned to which Root Primer nodded several negatives. “Then you know I cannot let him roam around the castle, definitely not armed like that. You need to follow the procedures, deposit his belongings first and get them both on the foreigners list.”

“I’m technically Canterlotian, hatched and raised. I have rights,” Spike pointed out, but was promptly ignored.

“Of course, I see why you normally couldn’t let us in,” Root Primer said, “but believe me, this is a textbook situation. Sir Gallant Gleam is eligible to invoking the regulations regarding, quote, ‘brief foreign visitors of special consideration’. That’s exception 22-9-16, since he’s been working with the school’s best and brightest directly. So, if we classify his belongings as teaching aides and if I get assigned ad-hoc as palace escort for him and the dragon, I think we can undercut the proverbial branch of procedures?”

The guard’s eyes went blank as he searched his mental catalogue. “Mhm, yes, you’re technically right, provided that his cultural contribution was considerable,” he admitted and measured the knight. “What is your field of expertise, sir?”

“I am versed in the Empire’s history and chivalric traditions,” Gallant Gleam replied proudly. “Warfare and tactics too, to a certain degree.”

“No kidding! They’re teaching kids such things?”

“Probably for extra credit,” Root Primer joked.

“Should be obligatory,” the other guard joined. “A few laps around Gooseberry Fields never did anyone any harm, eh?”

The first one winced. “Speak for yourself, Steelstar. But yeah, I’ve never been much of a bookworm, either,” he admitted. “As for you, you still need a clearance from the LT. Stay here.”

Root Primer’s nod for Spike was ever so subtle.

Over the course of that short talk, Spike had to remind himself several times that the pony escorting them was no pony at all. Under other circumstances he’d probably recognize Merrot too, but only because he knew what to look for. Despite wearing much different colors of the coat and mane and a set of aureate armor, ‘Root Primer’ couldn’t hide the familiar chubbiness of his face or his tumbling walk, though he was minding the latter well. During PE classes, Merrot’s trot and posture resembled a loose barrel in a rocking ship’s underbelly, but when he was smoothly talking his way through the gate he straightened up, wearing an impassive expression. He was Merrot, but he was Root Primer all the same.

That dissonance brought upon an unsettling perspective. That wasn’t Merrot he knew. The Merrot he knew couldn’t go a minute without mentioning how different the pony culture and customs were. If he didn’t happen to be absolutely fascinated by something pony—like their point of view on history—he would be usually going on about how difficult it was for him to fit in. The last decade spoke in favor of that claim, as it wasn’t until very recently when changelings stopped being perceived as a silent, unknown threat. When Spike had headed out for the Dominion, they were the enemy, but by the time he was back, they were more or less welcome, even if some were struggling.

But not Merrot, and not right now.

The plan was, surprisingly, working, but Spike realized how little he knew about the changeling—his friend? Something as silly as the last year’s test was nothing compared to other secrets Merrot might have been hiding.

“Hey, if it isn’t our gardener private,” Wave Heart’s deep voice broke his musing. “Roots, was it? You can stand down, soldier.”

Root Primer grinned. “LT! Good to see you in good standing, sir! I trust you’ve accustomed yourself back to our nice and clear skies?”

“Indeed I have! Yakyakistan has pretty views, but not much else, unless you’re a fan of freezing your backside off,” Wave Heart replied. “So, private, Impact's telling me you have an unscheduled VIP on board? Explain.”

“Affirmative, sir. Sir Gallant Gleam of the Crystal Empire has been dedicating his time and energy to the students of the SGI, teaching them the ancient history of his homeland. He expressed a wish to meet with Her Royal Highness and, in his own words, offer gratitude to the leader of the kingdom he’s passing through. The school knows that it is highly irregular, but given the urgency, I took upon myself to escort him. I do hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries of my rank, sir! Given the regulations regarding brief foreign visitors of special consideration—”

“Ah, yes, I see where you’re going with this. The nine-sixteen, right? Good thinking, private! There’s nothing to appreciate more in a fellow soldier than his readiness to take initiative.” He patted him on the back, to which Root Primer proudly clanged his boots together, almost growing an inch in posture. Wave Heart’s eyes then narrowed, but the warding stare was not aimed at the guard. “However, I’m not sure about allowing vandals into the castle.” He stopped by Spike, not even minding the height difference between them. “Hello, dragon. Explain to me, if you will, how is that of all students you were chosen to represent your school? Set the school board on fire, have you?”

Blood boiled in Spike’s veins. Grr. It would take just one breath, a single cough of melting flames, a mere string of immolation to evoke the respect he deserved…

“Spike the Dragon has been chosen due to his past contributions to the Empire, sir,” Root Primer quickly said. “I was assured he’s the right dragon for the job. Isn’t that right, Mr. Spike?”

The weight of the words sobered him. Whoa. That got too close for comfort, and was the second time today—or third, or fourth, it’s not like he was counting those—when he wanted to fix his problems by force. It was like that one time when he grew into a greedy beast, only that now he wasn’t after anything of material value, but rather after a show of force for its own sake. Wrong, cried a voice inside him, a voice of a baby dragon terrified by the perspective of subjugating the entire arcane realms to his own needs, of what he could achieve. But a shadow lurked around that dragon, bringing forth curiosity and excitation in equal measure.

It was just a matter of one breath…

Spike fiddled with his ring—a reflex he’d developed to trick himself into thinking that Twilight was watching him. It worked like a charm for his less diplomatic tendencies, most of the time.

“What is it going to be, Mr. Spike?” Wave Heart echoed the question.

“Yes, of course.” Spike shrunk into himself and brought his voice to the absolute limits of its gentleness. “I’m not going to cause you any trouble, sir, and for what it’s worth, I apologize for my behavior that day. The school grounds, the lake, that’s for everyone to enjoy and I should have known better than to make a mess of it. But I really want to make up for that. Helping Sir Gallant around is just the opportunity I need to work on my responsibility. I promise I won’t touch a thing!”

“I find it hard to believe,” the cold response was.

“If I may, lieutenant,” Gallant Gleam interjected. “While I would never want to usurp the right to having a say in that matter before you, master Spike has been nothing if not keen on helping since we were introduced. For that, I shall vouch with my knightly oaths.”

Wave Heart took a sweet moment considering it.

“Very well,” he finally said. “Private, your orders are to escort the VIP and his entourage to the Throne Room, wait for as long as necessary, then escort them back to the school grounds. I better not see a fire brigade storming the castle on my watch. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” Spike, Root Primer, and Gallant Gleam all exclaimed, each with his own dose of zealotry.

* * *

Vast interiors of the Royal Castle hadn’t changed a bit, except maybe for the length of corridors which Spike found shorter and less spacious. The ponies had long perfected the process of fixing whatever was becoming old, tattered, or otherwise strained over time, so carpets and stained glass looked just like ten years ago, possibly a hundred, but probably not as far as one additional order of magnitude ago. Spike made a mental note to ask Princess Celestia whether she had been redecorating a lot, say every century when she was getting bored with the decor.

“That went better than I expected,” Root Primer said, his voice echoing across the hallway. “For a moment I thought I would have to call in the favor the lieutenant owes Root, but I am glad we have conserved that resource.”

His casual attitude was but a straw compared to how he’d just posed as a Royal Guard and tricked the ponies whose exact job was to not let things like that happen, but it was that straw which broke Spike’s limit of disturbing things for the day.

“Alright, stop.” He dragged him into a side corridor. “First a fake librarian and now this? This isn’t right, Merrot. You can’t just snoop around Canterlot impersonating others. It’s, you know, kind of illegal.”

“Like I said: likely disturbing for you,” the changeling replied. “Don’t worry, Just-Spike. What precludes my actions from qualifying as a crime is that the identities are purely synthetic. Social harm equals zero! No one’s image gets harmed and they are easier to dispose of if necessary, though to be fair, Root Primer is enjoying a rather long lifespan.”

“So you’re a spy.”

“I wish! No, I only assume disguises to learn what Equestria has to offer. As a mere student I cannot experience everything, but I’m no spy.” Green flames burst from under the armor, changing Root Primer’s white coat into Merrot’s black carapace. “I am no spy,” he repeated.

“That’s not how I see it. Hey, Sir Gallant, a question. How would you call a changeling who impersonates a guard to get through a gate?”

“A quick thinker, perhaps?” Gallant Gleam looked away evasively. “I mean, uh, I don’t presume to know local customs, but that clever ruse got us into the palace rather efficiently, so we can carry on with our quest without much delay. Sometimes it’s all that will matter.”

“You’re not helping.” Spike took a step back into the main corridor and looked around. So far not a single guard had been attracted by their exchange, but the echo was gladly carrying their voices to the far ends of the castle. “Tell me something, and better be honest this time,” he said quietly. “Did Queen Chrysalis made you gather dirt on Equestria? Is the treaty a smokescreen before another invasion? Are you and other changelings here to find weaknesses in the Royal Castle defenses?”

“No, I wouldn’t know, and not unless I’m greatly misinformed, respectively.” Merrot frowned under the helmet which wasn’t falling over his eyes only thanks to the horn holding it in place. “And for the record, I’m not okay with you making such accusations against us. We’re only—”

“Trying to fit in, yeah, so I’ve heard a million times already. You know, there are easier ways to do that than manipulating everyone.”

“I’m not manipulating anyone!”

Spike’s laughter came as equally exaggerated as it was cruel. “Oh, are you not? Then riddle me this, because I’ve been thinking.” Without laying a single finger on Merrot, Spike pinned him to the wall with his sheer posture. “Last month. Our trip to the museum. There’s that one law of spellcasting which states that the amount of magic an object can contain is proportional to its mass. Of course, unless that supposed Element of Harmony wasn’t really a ruby and had some crazy density it clearly broke that law, but the flower at which we were aiming was small and light, like the gemstones surrounding it. My question is”—he paused, watching with satisfaction as the changeling gulped—“did you really need that extra love energy, or did you just want a hug from Razzle?”

Merrot’s cheeks blazed furiously, but otherwise he kept his game face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied swiftly. “The exact amount of energy to power up the circuit was unknown, so over-preparing was logical, and so was choosing Lula-Razzle who, as a pony—”

Spike waved dismissively. “Yeah, shut up. It’s obvious you like her like her…”

“I-I believe I am allowed to pursue interactions with whomever I deem interesting!”

“And you asked Sir Gallant all those things ‘for a friend’, right…”

“I can only assume the lady in question is someone truly special,” Gallant Gleam cut in. “Master Merrot indeed seems to hold her in high regard.”

“You’re not helping!” Merrot yelped. “So what if I do? I checked the SGI regulations several times and found nothing against liking liking other students.”

“And what does it say about lying to them?”

“I never lied to her!” Merrot replied, offended by the piercing implication in Spike’s voice.

“Yes, you did.” Spike wouldn’t back down. “You told her hugs aren’t part of your culture, but guess what? I’ve met changelings before. Hugs are part of every culture! Even dragons hug.” Spike watched Merrot’s composure melting with his every word. The changeling murmured something about ‘may having omitted fragments of the truth’ but Spike didn’t stop there. He got to the high ground and he intended to use it. “You lied to Razzle. Who’s your friend. To get a hug. Now that’s a whole new level of desperation,” he said. “You know what? I think you’re not nearly as lost in our customs and culture as you say you are. You’re just using that to get things your way, and that’s not cool at all. So the next time I see Razzle I think I’ll just tell her all about you. Good luck getting a friendly poke of her then.”

“Shame!” Gallant Gleam added on the side. ”Lying to a guard is one thing, but lying to a lady? Shame, shame!”

“No! Please!” Merrot panicked, his voice faltering. “A-and you are wrong, it is difficult for me to fit in! There are r-reasons other than those you can infer.” In a surge of strength, he suddenly made a decent effort of pushing the dragon about half a step away. “What is it that you want from me anyway, huh? Are you still mad at me for not sharing that stupid test with you? Or are you just being jealous?”

“Of Razzle?” Spike snickered. “Give me a break.”

“Then what’s your problem? The day we first met you explicitly stated that you don’t want me to keep studying your behavior and I respected that wish. You should have clarified that gathering information in the general vicinity of the Royal Castle will be frowned upon.”

Spike threw his arms in defeat. For a pretty smart guy Merrot excelled at playing a pretty dense one

“Duh! How can you understand that spying on your classmates is bad but still think ‘gathering information’ about the Royal Guard is good?”

Merrot crossed his forelegs, his boots slipping onto the stone tiles. “From my point of view, learning about individuals around me is good. Since I have direct access to my classmates, I don’t need to be covert around them, but that will not always be the case. When I know everything about everyone, I can shape myself and adapt to their expectations, thus resulting in the highest levels of acceptance possible. With that, I can fit in without facing any adversity,” he said, then resentfully added, “But I guess the princesses’ friends and heroes like you never have to deal with such issues. If there’s a party, you’re invited by default, aren’t you?”

Spike froze. He would never say he had his life served on a silver plate, but, admittedly, his time among Equestrians wasn’t entirely not like that. But that’s only because the ponies were cute, decent folks, weren’t they? They were accepting and open-minded, and only sometimes spoke wrongly about thestrals when something went missing. Or about griffons when those were faring well and had a stable but obviously ‘stolen’ job. Or about donkeys whenever something smelled.

Woah, ponies were colossal jerks. They would probably find something on changelings too.

“Young masters, I hate to intrude your banter, but there are guards coming our way,” Gallant Gleam said.

Spike and Merrot looked upon each other wondering if they hadn’t said too much. Though Spike couldn’t read Merrot’s mind through his crimson, now glistening eyes, or the pursed lips safeguarding more revelations about his life, he wondered what was that all about, and for what. Something had gone wrong and derailed their partnership—their friendship—as evident in the stares full of pretense, wrongful accusations, and lacking understanding any two aliens in the land of ponies ought to grant to each other.

Oh, yes, if Twilight could only see him she would be so proud.

“Just-Spike, I…”

“Want some advice on how to fit in?” Spike said quietly. “Don’t make yourself look like someone you are not.” He swept the golden hoof boots off the floor. “You better suit up now, private.”

Merrot reverted back to his disguise and started talking about stained glass like they were in the middle of a sightseeing trip. Spike and Gallant Gleam played along, commenting loudly yet with great laicism, so when the patrol trotted by, they simply exchanged complimentary nods and went their respective ways.

For the trio it was the Throne Room where they were stopped and questioned, but Root Primer’s natural military conditioning—darn, he was killing it, shuffling personas so quickly!—opened the ornamented doors before them. One wing represented the night, the other the day, and judging from the miniature brass laborers carved at the bottom they had been given as a joint tribute from the city’s various guilds.

On the far end of the spacious room, no white alicorns were seated on the throne.

“Spike the Dragon!” Luna boomed from afar. “I was told you had returned from your voyages. Approach!”

Of all the Equestrian royalty, Luna commanded respect the most. Unlike her sister, she didn’t resort to clever-but-confusing tidbits of wisdom, much like she didn’t rely on friendship or love to solve problems. Her ways were unique and mysterious like the night she guarded, but no one under her protection felt the need to understand. It sufficed that she understood and knew them well. She knew their fears and desires and was tirelessly utilizing her mastery over the Dreamworld to help fulfill them or fight them off. When the moon shone across the sky and the land got shrouded by the veil of duskiness, she was becoming a figure so intimately close to the needs of common folk it was surprising she shunned seeing them in person. To those who were yet to meet her in the land of dreams, she appeared as distant, even scary, but in truth she cared for her subjects with no lesser eagerness.

Spike thought he felt a subtle vibration of magic somewhere around his head, but it was gone the moment it occurred. Luna shifted on her chair of chairs as though she was consulting its shadow.

“Your Highness.” Spike bowed and watched her reaction carefully. Boy, she looked bored. “I’d like to express our gratitude for seeing us.”

“Spike the Dragon,” Luna repeated, first maintaining official tone but then exuding pure delight. She loosened up and smiled, so the dragon followed her example. “Spike, know that you are always welcome in Canterlot. How’s school?”

“Good, good, thanks. I’m managing. We have a nasty history exam on the Crystal Empire on Monday and I still need to cram it, but hey, that’s school life!” he said. “By the way, is Princess Celestia around? I was hoping she could help us.”

“I’m afraid my sister has gone to consult a friend and is yet to return. Until then, I should prove equally qualified to assist you.” She turned to Gallant Gleam. “You’re not from around here,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Gallant Gleam looked questioningly at Spike who encouraged him to speak up. The mare on the elevated platform wasn’t the one they’d intended to meet, but perhaps that’s for the better. They needed answers, not a lesson in temporal physics.

“Indeed, Your Highness,” the knight replied. “I am Sir Gallant Gleam, Knight Protector of the Crystal Empire and a humble servant for righteousness within the Order of the Crystal Lily,” he said while Root Primer was mockingly half-mouthing his every word. “At your service.”

Luna nodded, the boredom of her expression making way for a spark of interest. “This is most intriguing, Sir Gallant. You may rise.” She turned her attention to Root Primer and beckoned. “Step up, soldier. Who you might be?”

“My name is Root Primer, Your Highness. I serve in the Royal Guard Reserves Division in the rank of private.”

Luna chuckled, watching the sole of her silver-wrapped hoof with mild disinterest. “No, no,” she said nonchalantly. “You are a changeling pretending to serve in the Royal Guard, Reserves Division, in the rank of private.”

Seeing Merrot’s wide open jaw was priceless. He had managed to trick Princess Celestia with his disguise on the day he and Spike first met—or so was their way of telling that story, as Celestia hadn’t directly called him out, so technically… maybe?—but Luna wasn’t playing any of his games. Merrot removed his helmet and morphed into his natural form that was now the epitome of embarrassment. Muzzle aiming at the checkered floor, eyes everywhere but on the alicorn, lips pursed and his hoof at the back of his head. His confidence had been crushed under one swift blow of truth.

“Good!” Luna said sternly. “Then one more time, who you might be?”

“Piro-Merrot, Y-your Highness. I-I am studying at the SGI. Q-Queen Chrysalis allowed me to a-and I really want to continue! The school’s important to me! I’m sorry I—”

A swift gesture silenced him. “Please convey my regards to the Queen should I not have a chance to pass them on myself first. And by the stars, lose that armor, you look ridiculous,” Luna ordered. “Now, I assume you have a colorful explanation for what you were attempting to pull off here, but it is neither time nor place to discuss it. There are matters at hoof which had come first and had not been taken care of in at least… a thousand years? Isn’t that right, Sir Gallant?” she asked, to which the knight nodded. “I fear I am but vaguely familiar with your Order, but I do recall that it has been banned and dissolved at the end days of the old Crystal Empire.” A glint of realization shined in her eyes. “Would you be opposed if we moved this audience to my chambers? I feel that my helpfulness in the matter will be only as good at the number of books at my disposal.”

“I don’t deserve such an honor!” Gallant Gleam exclaimed, flabbergasted. “If it pleases you, Your Highness!”

“It’s settled, then. Moonwarden!”

Like a crippled wraith, an elderly stallion emerged from the shadows behind the throne. “Yes, my lady?”

“Cancel my others. Have them come tomorrow if need be.”

The unicorn raised his grayed eyebrow. “All of them, my lady?”

“Yes, all of them,” Luna replied, then added as an afterthought, “How many petitioners were we expecting today?”

“I shall make the currents mark the sum total.” Moonwarden summoned a blackwood cane to his side. “Allow me to excuse myself…”

Luna gave her assistant a benign eye-roll as he paddled away with his own continuous murmur to keep him company. She wasted no time to exit her royal seating—and she did so with a poorly concealed sigh of relief. Skipping the stairs jovially she joined them as a mare different than the one that had been looking down upon them, with new energy the further from the throne she got.

“Shall we go, Sir Gallant? I’ve always had a great interest in the past and I’m looking forward to learning about your Order. Spike, you’re welcome to join as well if you so desire. I recall something about you being in need of a history lesson?”

Spike grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that, Princess. I’ve already learned more from Sir Gallant than from the books.”

Which was true, even if the amount of knowledge accrued from Across the Ages 1 was orbiting Planet Null.

“C-can I come too, Your Highness?” Merrot asked timidly.

“Ha! Like you’ve had any other say in the matter.” Luna snickered. “Onwards!”

* * *

“Make yourselves comfortable.” Luna invited them in.

Crossing the threshold caused a twofold impact, and that’s beyond just considering the two floors which constituted the chamber. The first strike was about visuals. Moving from white stone enveloping the corridors to jet black marble covering the walls of Luna’s study was a significant change in scenery. The Royal Castle was maintained with a choice of warm, inviting colors, but that one room must have been the interior decorator’s moody manifest against omnipresent brightness. Even the furniture was made of dark wood lightened only by silver ornaments. The room would be dim if it weren’t for slender windows climbing up the wall to the high ceiling. The higher they went, the color of the walls changed, as marble was smoothly turning into dark blue, purple, and into a fresco of the night sky with its many constellations, each properly labeled with its common and scientific names.

The second strike revolved around sounds, or lack thereof. Conversations and hoofsteps had been echoing outside due to long, empty spaces, but the walls inside weren’t nearly as naked. The entire second floor separated from the chamber’s lower half with curving balconies was covered with bookcases bending under the weight of tomes, grimoires, and occasional loose rolls of parchment sticking out between them.

Spike had seen quite a few methods of organizing books in his life, but Luna’s collection was using none of them. Never before had he visited her personal study, and he doubted Twilight had done so recently. Otherwise, there would be some order in here, unless of course she’d have decided to make use of the pillows scattered on the noise-cancelling navy blue rugs and to forget about the world. Which she did on occasions.

For all who weren’t in the mood for a lecture awaited an elegant chessboard with ongoing skirmish on display and a few cabinets with various memorabilia, tokens of gratitude gifted to the Princess of the Night.

Luna placed her crown on the desk. “Don’t stand at attention like that. We need not to be formal in here,” she chuckled and trotted along the bookshelves. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Sir Gallant, but I was led to believe that all those adhering your Order’s ways had faced a most unpleasant fate. Yet here I see you, alive and well. I can’t help but wonder what brings a fine cavalier such as yourself to Canterlot in this day and age?”

Gallant Gleam pulled himself a chair. “I wish I could know that, Princess. As you can tell, I come from a different time, a different place, so the moment young master Spike helped me realized that, I thought it wise to consult someone who still remembers the past. I thought of your sister first, for which I beg forgiveness,” he said, but Luna didn’t seem to mind. “I feel like I have slept through ‘yesterday’ and awakened ‘now’ only to see the world in much different hues than it used to be. An impossible slumber to last a millennium.”

A slight smile arched across Luna’s lips. “I can imagine the feeling. Go on.”

The old knight’s stare became absent. “I remember a much different yesterday than the ponies of today. A yesterday in which the Crystal Empire is harassed by monsters of ice and frost descending from the mountains, by witches and their vile rituals, and by the threat that were the changelings”—he extended his hoof at Merrot—“who are quite noble fellows, as it appears. In my yesterday, the Order was tasked with keeping those dangers at bay. Yet in my today, which is but ancient history for the young masters, the state of things has changed.”

“How big was the Order, anyway?” Merrot asked.

“Not that grand in numbers. A hundred souls at its best days.”

“They preferred quality over quantity.” Luna beckoned them closer. “Come.”

She thumped a heavy tome on the table. Held together with iron clasps, The Histories Gathered were adorned with beautiful illuminations of every topic the author found worth tackling. It was likely a one-of-a-kind publication, coming from the times before printing presses or even carved woodblocks, when in secluded monasteries ponies would rewrite and redraw everything by hoof. Such a career was teaching humility if nothing else, and came with sets of patched robes and simplistic lifestyle. A dragon would never muster enough patience to sit down to be an ascetic, but it wasn’t exactly where Spike saw himself in ten years.

Luna weaved a tale from passages and figures. “Listen well. Years into the rule of Princess Amore, a threat’s been made against the Crystal Empire: an army of pony-like creatures clad in black carapaces marched at the city. The defenders fought and won, losses notwithstanding, but great unrest fell upon the citizens. They were afraid that the enemy would return one day and impersonate their neighbors, even family members, and take away their love and lives. So they began accusing each other of being in league with the changelings, persecuting the innocent, and even hunting the popular in that times practitioners of witchcraft,” Luna said. “Much like the Tribes, the Empire had their own ‘dark ages’ as well.”

Gallant Gleam cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Your Highness, one cannot blame them for their want of a safe sleep.”

“Distrust shields us better than an armor of steel, does it not?” Luna turned the page to an illumination of a pony confusingly similar to Gallant Gleam himself. “To protect her subjects, the Crystal Princess has called for a new group to be formed. The Order of the Crystal Lily was constituted by the bravest and most skilled fighters of the Empire, as well as scholars—Equestrian ones as well—who would share their knowledge on how to best combat the threat, changeling or otherwise.” She reached the end of the passage. “Sadly, this is everything there is. Historians generally agree that it must have been the change in the Empire’s leadership which caused the Order to disappear from the pages of history, so to speak, but there is no definite proof of that.” She glanced up at the stallion. “What really happened to the Order?”

“Treason,” Gallant Gleam said coldly. “A threat grew amidst our very ranks, and although the Order prospered and performed its duty well, we were blind to what was to come. For you see, the line between zealotry and fanaticism is thin, and when protecting your loved ones from the monsters they fear, it is all too easy to go astray and join their ranks. Then, even a noble quest for knowledge turns into a pursuit of power. Of vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” Spike echoed with a shiver of excitement going down his spine. “On whom? The changelings? The Empire? Equestria?”

Tendrils of insecurity slithered into the room, but no one dared to cut them, or the knight’s recount short.

Gallant Gleam heaved a tired sigh. “I shall never forget the disappointment in his eyes,” he said faintly. “Once, there was a scholar who came to aid us. He was brilliant, devoted to the cause like no other, both in heart and mind—and mind you, he was of Equestrian descent, so he didn’t have to concern himself with us crystal ponies. When the enemy returned, we won many battles thanks to his insights. One day, he claimed he found a pattern in those random acts of violence, and that the next attack would be launched at Gleam’s Folly, a village on the outskirts of the Empire. He… he asked me to spare more troops to defend it. As a Knight Protector and a member of the Order I commanded a small taskforce stationed at the Empire’s heart, but I refused the call. I believed he was letting his personal feelings get in the way of what our scouts had reported. Alas, he was right. All he said would happen, happened. The changelings attacked Gleam’s Folly, and in that attack, his loved one met her end.”

“A painful experience… now it makes sense…” Luna whispered. “What was her name?”

“Radiant Hope, our hospitaler.” Gallant Gleam smiled at the memory. “A young mare, pure and innocent. We all cherished her company and every youth wanted to become the stallion of her heart, but when she gave it to the scholar we couldn’t be happier for them. They were a lovely couple.”

“He must have taken it hard when she died,” Merrot said.

“He couldn’t see past the loss. He blamed Equestria for staying idle, the Empire for not doing enough to protect its citizens, and he held the Order, and me personally, responsible for lady Radiant’s passing,” he said. “Soon the war was over, but his crusade against your race had only begun. His scholar logic kept him sane just long enough for him to find a final solution to the changeling threat, but when he presented his plan to Princess Amore, he did not find the understanding he was hoping for. In her wisdom, she did not share his extreme views.”

“How extreme are we talking about?”

“They spoke behind closed doors, but it is safe to assume we would not be having this conversation had he gotten his way, master Merrot. He inferred the Empire was weak because of that, and so did many others who shared his radical policies, who like him couldn’t move on after their personal losses.” Gallant Gleam walked to the chessboard by the window, not even to look outside but to hide tears coming to his eyes. He was shaking. “In a matter of weeks he reached out to them and gained enough power and followers to challenge the Princess… and to take her place.”

The world went dizzy for a moment.

“King Sombra!” Spike exclaimed. “The scholar was King Sombra!”

“That wasn’t in the books!” Merrot sprang in shock only to fall between the pillows a moment later. “What history lesson!”

“Indeed.” Luna might not have been as vocal as the two students, but her raised eyelids told enough about how impressed she was. “On behalf of Equestria and all those seeking knowledge in the past, I thank you for sharing this story with us, Sir Gallant. The last days of the old Crystal Empire have always been a mystery to us. My sister and I, we only knew that a tyrant born of Equestrian soil had arisen and that he must be stopped, but we never learned the exact reason behind his malicious deeds. Until now,” she said. “Moreover, now we can attribute our lacks in material about the Order to King Sombra himself. I imagine he would rather have us forget you rather than remember as valiant heroes you were.”

“Valiant heroes, my flanks!” Gallant Gleam exploded. “I should have given him what he asked for! I should have listened to him! When he staged his coup, I should have been blown to pieces, not Princess Amore, but I chose to hide like a coward! The fall of the Empire—all that happened—it’s all on ME!” He turned around and swept the pieces off with one swift motion. White queen fell and black king followed, bishop did her best to protect her pawns, but the black tide buried them all beneath. Knights got scattered and rooks were nowhere to be found.

The air in the chamber crackled as Luna summoned her crown back.

“CONTAIN YOURSELF, SIR GALLANT!” she boomed, putting the knight’s rant to shame. He cowered at her hooves, bracing for another cry, but Luna needed to shout once and once only. She seated herself face to face and gently unwrapped him from under his forelegs. “Sir Gallant,” she said softly, “there is no use pondering what would or would not have happened had we made our choices differently. Whether we’re ready or not, in the right or in the wrong, nightmares will come and go regardless,” she added and encouraged him to get up. “If all we did was blame ourselves for not stopping the monsters of yesterday, we would never pay any attention to the tomorrow ahead of us. And if it’s not the better tomorrow we want to see, then why fight at all?”

A pensive silence descended upon the chamber, completing the quiet trifecta with its peaceful and eerie sisters.

Gallant Gleam slowly collected himself into his original dignity.

“I understand, Your Highness.”

“You do?” Luna asked in mild surprise. “Huh, someone’s sister would be proud,” she added under her breath.

“Yes, I mean, I think. The Order may be no more, but at least I survived. I have a tomorrow to look forward to.”

“Which still raises the question,” Merrot said. “How exactly have you fled King Sombra’s wrath?”

“Well, it was the night before summer solstice. The twelve of us that remained, the last dozen I’d been given command over, gathered in the Nephrite Forest. Our plan was to find allies outside the Empire. Equestrians, yaks, griffons… anyone who could help us deal with the foul usurper. We knew we wouldn’t simply flee the Empire as his influence over the Crystal Guard had corrupted their numbers. Our best chance was a ruse not unlike what master Merrot was kind to demonstrate today,” he said, unabashed by Merrot’s desperate pantomime. When Luna looked back, the changeling was looking around innocently. “Thankfully, we could rely on a supporter who wielded considerable power even after the coup. Her name was Jade Echo. She was—”

“The last marshal of the Crystal Empire,” Spike blurted out.

“Indeed! I applaud your historical aptitude, master Spike!” Gallant Gleam said and Merrot snickered. “Jade Echo came up with a plan to, quite literally, smuggle us across the border as statues. The idea was to tell the Crystal Guard that the king didn’t wish to see any mention of the Order ever again, but that there’s a buyer in Canterlot who would pay a good price for such decorations. The gate guards had to be convinced as well, but a corrupted heart hears the jingle of coin well. Luckily, the marshal had both that and a family dealing with magical creatures, so she brought—”

“A cockatrice,” Merrot said. “Of course! Jade Echo changed you into statues by making you look into the eyes of a cockatrice. But wait, you told us you didn’t know how you landed in the future!”

Gallant Gleam’s crystalline cheeks shined with red hue. “I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you, young masters. Considering the circumstances under which we met, I wasn’t sure if I could trust either of you.”

“So that statue really was missing…” Spike said to himself. “Smart.”

Merrot blinked. “Sma—what? Is that all you’ve got to say? ‘Smart’? He utilized a false premise and used us to achieve his goals!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Gee, I wonder where he picked that up…”

“He didn’t—I didn’t—argh, superb! So when I’m doing things like that I’m a criminal, but when a knight’s doing them he’s simply smart? Talk about double s—mhmm-HMM!”

“Please, go on,” Spike said to Gallant Gleam, tucking the changeling behind his back.

“Well, seeing that I’m here and not in the Empire, the plan worked for the most part, only that we were supposed to be de-stoned only a few days later. Jade Echo would slay the cockatrice and thus reverse its enchantment, but it seems it lasted quite a while longer in my case.”

“Clearly, something went wrong,” Luna followed a train of thoughts around the table. “Whoever is turned into stone by a cockatrice’s gaze ceases to be so the moment the beast perishes. Hmm. Celestia and I had set up several barriers around the city after we learned about King Sombra’s rule but before we headed out to deal with him. Theoretically, those could have infused the effect to last even longer. Considering the magical nature of Canterlot, even a thousand years.”

“What about those not in Canterlot?” Gallant Gleam asked.

“If any of your companions had been placed over a nexus of magic, they theoretically could endure as long as you did, but their placing would have to be deliberate.” She came to a halt facing the knight. “I am sorry. You may very well be the last living member of your Order, Sir Gallant.”

“Worry not. Just this morning I was told the Empire was lost in time as well, but it got better after it reemerged. I take solace in it.”

Luna answered the uneasy question that was bugging Spike. Being the last of your kind sucked a great deal, all the worse the world didn’t need changeling hunters anymore. The Order of the Crystal Lily and Gallant Gleam’s time had passed, and he himself had become a relic of the bygone days—a mere piece of trivia about which students were only learning from history books.

Spike closed the tome in front of him. He thought about his own textbook, notes, essays, classes… and he remembered.

Well, kind of.

“Merrot! Focus! What else do we know about Jade Echo? Come on, help me out, we discussed her in class, didn’t we? There was that thing in a place about her, remember?”

The changeling’s eyes widened. “By the ancestors, you’re right. You’re right! Jade Echo was captured and charged with treason on a summer solstice. Could that be the summer solstice?”

“King Sombra’s reign was brief,” Luna added. “There wouldn’t be many solstices to choose from, so it may as well be the one in question. What do you suggest?”

“I think Sir Gallant never woke up in time because Jade Echo never got rid of the cockatrice,” Spike said, for the first time inspired by the subject of history. “She was imprisoned before she could do it!”

Gallant Gleam chuckled lightly. “I do appreciate the effort, but the notion stands impossible, if heartwarming. If not by the blade, the beast would have perished of natural causes.”

“What if it was gone for a thousand years along with the Empire?”

“An astute observation!” Luna said. “Sir Gallant, I take back my last. There is a chance, however slim, that your cockatrice was frozen in time with the rest of the crystal ponies and that it breathed its last only recently. That would explain why you were unpetrified only today,” she said. “I recall only one statue reaching the castle, yours. Others must have been sent to different corners of Equestria, or perhaps to other places you mentioned. Yaks, griffons… who knows who else might be having a conversation like ours right now?”

The chair crunched dangerously when Gallant Gleam slumped into it. “But… that would mean my fellow knights would be awakening from their slumber as well! The Order lives!” He shed a happy tear, then got back to all fours with newfound energy. “I shall find and gather those who endured the trials of time and stone, be that but one soul alone, for the Lily shall not wither as long as there’s but one tending to it!” He slammed his cuirass zealously and fell to his knee. “I humbly ask for your blessing for my quest, Your Highness.”

Luna nodded. “Rise and take my blessing, Sir Gallant Gleam, Knight Protector of the Crystal Empire. Let there be known that the Order of the Crystal Lily, regardless of their count, is always welcome in Equestria as it is far and wide,” she proclaimed, then added half-seriously, “as long as they don’t raise voice at me in my quarters… or ruin my game.” She hovered the scattered pieces back onto the chessboard, each precisely where it had been before. “I’ll have it arranged to get you to the Crystal Empire where you’ll present your case to the current Crystal Princess, but not before you join tonight’s feast in your honor. Perhaps I could invite a few historians”—she threw a glance at Spike and Merrot—“and history teachers, so you could share even more about your Order? In turn, they may know something about the remaining statues.”

“With unbound pleasure! Truly, if generosity had a face, it would wear the most gentle smile of yours, Your Highness!” Gallant Gleam replied and laid a kiss of veneration on Luna’s hoof.

A slight blush came across her cheeks as she fiddled with her mane. “And they say chivalry is dead.” She raised her eyes and looked above the trio. “Did you get all that?”

“Yes, my lady,” Moonwarden said.

Spike flinched. When, or how did the old pony enter the room, he couldn’t tell. Creepy.

“Please show my guest to his chamber,” Luna commanded.

“Of course, my lady. Sir Gallant, if you please follow me…”

“Just a moment! This is where we part ways, young masters. I do hope that I’ve honored my end of our agreement and provided you with enough interesting history tidbits for your Order’s trials ahead of you.”

“You bet!” Spike grinned and shook his hoof. “Like Merrot said, that was one heck of a history lesson for us. I’d take it over our textbook any time. So, thanks—and it was really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise! And to think that our first encounter was rather fiery! Shall we agree to remember it as an anecdote for when we reunite?” he chuckled. “You’ve done me a great service, master Spike. You have a warrior’s heart and you care deeply for your friends. Such qualities make exceptional knights, and I urge you to consider this path when it opens for you.” He gave him a nudge. “As for you, master Merrot, I again apologize and I beg your forgiveness. I am proud to say that I’ve met, dined and traveled in the company of a changeling… and lived to tell the tale! Wherever I go, I shall vouch for your keen mind and amicable nature, and I shall make everyone think twice before they speak wrongly about your kind.”

“Uh, thanks! I’ll take is as a compliment—from an unquestionable source,” Merrot replied with content. “And just to be sure, because I’m still not clear on that whole truth-gate-lie thing. From a knight’s point of view, is it okay to hide certain things from others when it’s justified? I mean, I’m just saying, there may be cases in which taking the truth apart and arranging the pieces differently will be necessary, like, uh, going through the aforementioned gates, right? You wouldn’t say you lost your... knight membership card after that, would you?”

“And you’re asking these questions for a friend… or for the sake of your own enlightenment?”

“Oh, you know, for a friend of course, I mean, it’s not like a changeling could become a knight, right, haha!”

There was something off about Merrot’s nonchalance, but Gallant Gleam nodded in understanding.

“Being a knight is first and foremost about aspiring to an ideal, about bettering yourself for the good of others. But even then, life’s life and none of us is perfect. Sometimes”—he winked to Spike—“you may need to take a detour around the truth, and like with all detours, that’s where your personal moral compass comes into play. However, after seeing you today I honestly believe yours is set the right way.” He put his armored hoof on Merrot’s shoulder. The changeling’s legs wobbled. “May the lady of your heart notice you soon.” He took a step back. “Thank you, friends. Your Highness. I wouldn’t want to say ‘farewell’, so perhaps… until next time? Lead on, master Moodwarden!”

“It is ‘Moonwarden’, thank you very much,” the pony drawled dryly. “Now follow…”

Once the closing door secured the chamber’s serene quietness, Luna erupted in joyful laughter.

“Ha! That was fun! There I was, expecting yet another day of petitioners and edicts, but you two came and delivered me from boredom quite expertly. Perhaps I should enroll my sister’s school to distract myself from mundane tasks if that’s how your usual weekends look like?” she chuckled. “Anyway, this is most intriguing. I hope that Sir Gallant’s companions were preserved properly. It’s about time I passed the title of honorary fossil to someone else.” She grabbed a quill, dipped it in a crystal inkwell, and started scribbling. “I need to send a word to Cadance post-haste.”

“Do you think she’ll go searching for them?” Spike asked.

“Not in person. She and Shining Armor should focus on family matters now. If dreams taught me anything, dealing with adolescents can be tricky,” she said, spewing out another paragraph like her life depended on it. “I will see if she can spare some of her resources and if not, I will dedicate some of my own.” Luna pondered as she went into murmur. “Huh, it’s really on me this time, isn’t it? Let’s see, Cadance will be busy, Discord’s unreliable, Celestia is on her little vacation, Twilight has her hooves full with the Comet…”

“A comet?” Spike and Merrot asked in unison. “What comet?”

Luna snapped out her reverie, her muzzle displaying a thousand emotions at once. She winced, bit her lip, frowned, pursed her lips together, fluttered her eyelashes—she was a one flustered pony.

“What comet?” she echoed questioningly.

“The one you just mentioned?” Spike crossed his arms. “You know something, don’t you?”

“You will learn soon enough,” Luna replied enigmatically. “But for one to learn, one has to study, much like you have your exam to study for. To the books!”

Magic washed over them before either could form a thought.

* * *

Despite being perhaps the greatest marvel of magic, teleportation was relatively easy to explain: it was like immersing yourself in the gentle streams of the arcane, turning them in the right direction, and letting the current take your body through space and scenery. Being forcefully teleported by someone else, however, was more like getting pushed off the physical realm’s jetty into cold, deep waters of magic, drowning there for a terrifying second, then being pulled back like it had all been a practical joke.

The nauseating sensation was yet to wear off as they blinked under a lone maple by the lake.

“First time?” Spike tried to keep his balance, but gravity was one mean mistress. “Oomph. Stick to the ground, it’ll help.”

Merrot collapsed by his side, sinking into the patchwork of red and orange leaves. “I’m alright, I just need a moment,” he said, rolling onto his back. “Nope, reverse, go back—sky is bad. Ground is good. That’s right. Ugh. What was that about? Is asking about space rocks against ponykind’s terms and conditions too?”

“How should I know? The only comet Twilight had special dealings with was the Secretariat Comet, but that one’s gone for the century.”

“Whatever it was it sounded pretty big. Big and clandestine. A perfect opportunity for Root Primer to snoop around... but I’m afraid he’s been disavowed rather recently.”

“My condolences. First his brother, now him. How’s the family holding up?”

“They’re nothing if not adaptable, they’ll live. And Root Primer and Prim Rooter will forever live in their hearts,” Merrot added theatrically.

The two students shared a humored snicker which they gladly fashioned into a full-blown cackle. After how eventful those last couple of hours had been, having a laugh was more than deserved. In the old knight’s own words, they had met, dined and traveled along each other, and lived to tell the tale. Plus they were just technically banished off the Royal Castle by Princess Luna herself—and they still became, all in all, quite the experts in the matters of the ancient Crystal Empire. That alone was enough to consider the day well spent.

Spike didn’t enjoy that serenity for long. With Gallant Gleam’s mystery out of the picture, Merrot’s own still remained.

“So… mind telling me why you do this?” he asked.

Merrot shrugged. “For the same reason you are running laps around the lake every morning. I change my shape to stay in shape. For us, this ability is like any other muscle and we need to keep flexing it,” he explained. “Have you ever heard a phrase ‘unused organs disappear’? While I wouldn’t say it’s scientifically accurate, the fact remains that we’re only as good at this as we train ourselves to be.”

“So it’s like a… hobby for you? Something like a sport, or an obligation?” Spike had a hard time finding the right analogy. “Because let me tell you something, you were scary good back there at the gate. You fooled everyone—and I mean it as a compliment this time.”

“Not everyone,” the changeling admitted sourly. “Two personal attempts later I’m inclined to believe that alicorns can’t be tricked. Our Queen obviously managed that, but to be honest there’s never been a consensus whether it takes royalty to deceive the same.” He giggled. “There’s a funny thought experiment on that topic, actually. You put an alicorn and a spy in a box. You can’t determine their status without opening the box, so until such time arrives, the agent may be simultaneously covert and overt. Or, as some put it, both successful and dead.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Spike replied. It seemed changeling scientist had too much free time on their hooves. “Besides, if the guy is locked in a box, how come that he’s also in a classroom sitting next to me? Or at the Archives working the books? How are you even managing so many characters without going nuts?”

“In the same manner I could get the last year’s history test.”

Something clicked. Spike had been so focused on the single puzzle piece that was Merrot that he completely disregarded the bigger picture. If old pony sayings were any true, catching one changeling red-hoofed meant there was six more plotting behind your back.

“There are others,” he said in sudden clarity. “You share those made-up identities.”

“On occasions. Prim Rooter, junior librarian was my creation, but Cadet Root Primer of the Reserves was, well, borrowed.” Merrot’s ears flattened as if he had just broken someone else’s toy. “They’re both done for now, so that’s that, but I can’t say I’m not going to miss the benefits. No more unrestricted access to the Archives, no more tours around the Royal Castle and, worst of all, no more palace cuisine in the near future. That’s a loss.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“I’m a Feeder, I never joke about food.” Merrot patted himself on the belly. “Why do think I’m so fat? I swear, some of the things served there… mm, delicious! Last week I’ve had an orange-peach pudding and it was a hundred times better than anything I’ve eaten back home!”

Spike laughed so he wouldn’t cry. Watch the stage, everyone! Enter Merrot, a changeling not-spy of a hundred aliases and a dozen spy-gizmos, sneaking into the palace with your typical choice of spy tricks, all to get a dessert. Somehow, that story felt familiar, only that in Spike’s case it was the Golden Oak Library and sapphire cream rolls which he under no circumstances was allowed to eat after supper. Yeah, like words could stop him.

“Word! Snacks at the palace are something,” Spike chuckled. “But did it ever tempt you to, you know, add something to the mix?”

“It occurred to me as a strictly theoretical possibility,” Merrot replied. “Listen, if there’s anything to learn from our dear knight errant’s example is that the history between my race and whoever happened to be around isn’t the prettiest. The new treaty proved that ponies and changelings are willing to put the past behind and start anew, but since many of us are discovering the surface only now, we'll sometimes go to unconventional ways to make the best of our time here. I suppose we’re in this critical period when both parties need to learn to appreciate each other for what they are.”

“Can you guys do that? Learn to appreciate ponies even when some will keep calling you face-stealers?”

“I can’t promise you there won’t ever be a statistical share posing as ponies for personal gain, but I have faith,” he said. “How about this? Just say the word and I’ll swear on my ancestors to never resort to disguise as long as I’m a student here. You’ll have one less face to worry about, at least.”

That did not sound like a joke.

“That’s six years you’re talking about. Isn’t that too long to leave a muscle unattended?”

“Perhaps. But it is a price I am willing to pay for having your trust back.”

Merrot’s ways were unorthodox, but intentions behind them were true. Knowledge, self-improvement, healthy curiosity—and healthy appetite, apparently. In the end, his crime was being a newcomer in a land where certain things weren’t seen his way but where he was still handling them better than most. With the exception of a few braver-ish ponies Spike could think of, average Equestrians would turn tail at the first sign of trouble if they found themselves in a changeling hive.

Merrot persevered and there was a lesson in his persistence. He must have come to Canterlot with his own envisionment of how his school time would be like, but pony reality could be quirky. Spike could tell. Someone like Merrot could fight the odds for so long, even if he had a whole network of shifters to back him up—but definitely longer if they felt welcome.

“You already have it back.” Spike raised his fist which Merrot readily bumped. “And... sorry for what I said earlier. I’ve been an ass. You’re a great guy and I’m glad you’re here with us,” he added, wondering if he could get any cheesier. “And you know what, even if I’ve come here only to study magic, I think I’ll be staying for the company.”

“ ‘Much appreciated, young master!’ ” Merrot declared. “Also, I apologize for not being completely honest with you. With the test, with my extracurricular activities, with everything. I would like to make it up to you, but if what Stock-Silk told us was true, then giving you the last year’s questions would be an empty gesture.” He took Across the Ages 1 halfway out of his bag. “Shall we review the material the traditional way?”

Spike stretched out on the blanket of leaves. “Nah. I think I’ve had enough history for one day. There is always tomorrow."

They enjoyed their well-deserved break in silence.

“So… Razzle, huh?” Spike asked after a while.

As if to match the maple over their heads, Merrot blushed a beautiful shade of autumn red.

“I have nothing to add in the matter.”

“Sure you don’t, Merry.”

Author's Note

Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! :raritywink: