Chapters You Can Lead a Horse to Water...
But You Can't Make It Your Familiar
The Sun was having it against her, Trixie was sure, as the big ball of fire scorched. Smoldered. Throbbed. Beating down on her profusely sweating back not unlike a savageous foal would to their first pinata party, and scarfing down on the paper mache’s delectable viscera and gore; eyes twitching wild, and teeth glistening with caramel and chocolate.
Panting, Trixie pulled out a bottle of water from the back. The cool water felt like a slice of heaven to her throat, and after a moment of staring at the quarter-empty bottle, Trixie decided to splash some over her body, sighing as the blessed coolness encompassed her body. It wasn’t like anypony was going to witness her in all her all-wet glory. The weather was too hot, and only crazed ponies would dare hitting the road.
Ponies like herself.
Trixie flared her nostrils, sweeping her wet mane to the side of her head. “Trixie could not believe this,” she murmured under her breath.
The harness of her new wagon felt heavy on her shoulders, and it didn’t take long before Trixie was panting again. Casting her head to the road, Trixie can’t help but think it looked endless, stretching beyond the horizon, and beyond beyond the horizon. It was the heat, Trixie was sure. Or hoped, at least.
The green endless plain of mounds, tiny hills, and colorful flowers would have been a worthy enough view if it wasn’t for the fact that they were the very same scenery she had been seeing for the past several hours. Trixie wished that Manehattan wouldn’t be too far, unless she would keel over. It would take days before somepony would discover her decomposing corpse.
The showmare shook her head, banishing the morbid thoughts away. Morbid thoughts weren’t exactly entertaining when there was a chance of said thoughts coming true. In all fairness, Trixie supposed that hot days like these weren’t exactly unusual, and normally she would have taken refuge into her old wagon until the weather was cool enough.
Normally, of course, her old wagon wouldn’t be destroyed in that stinking backwater mudtown—by an Ursa Ma-Minor, no less!— into unsalvageable bits alongside with her lifesavings, various collected knicks-knacks, costumes, and most of her everything!
And she was also pretty sure the stallion she bought her new wagon from had ripped her off. Sure, it was bigger on the inside, and sure , it came with its own furniture, and decorations, but it was so poorly insulated that just staying inside for a couple of seconds felt like she was in a sauna, and without all the proper enchantments she had invested into her old wagon, pulling the new wagon felt like she was dragging a slab of anvil.
The less said on the convenient shifting mechanical contraption that made the old wagon double as its own wagon, the better.
Trixie growled at the back of her throat, scowling at the reminder. Now she had to set up her magic shows in the old way. Boring, tiring, and no flair at all. She shot a disdainful look back at the new wagon that wouldn't be out of place in a mother disappointed that her adopted-son couldn’t compare to her real —but unfortunately deceased —son.
That stinking. Flippin’. Ducking backwater of a town.
Sure, perhaps she was laying it a bit too thick on the act, and boasting that she had ‘defeated an Ursa Major’ near the Everfree Forest was asking for it, but it wasn’t like she could expect that those dropped-on-the-head foals would actually attract an Ursa Ma–Minor to the freakin’ town! Trixie inhaled, and sniffed at the memories—the eardrums-crushing roar, the wild swiping claws, and stomping legs threatening to squash her, and then the sight of her home crushed into pieces.
Which, just her luck, wasn’t covered by the Insurance Company!
Stinking Ponyville. If there ever was a place Trixie will never visit again, then she had found it. Idly, Trixie mused if there was some form of viral infection coming from the Everfree Forest that caused the loss of common sense. It would certainly explain everything wrong with Ponyville. That , or perhaps it was a result from years of casual inbreeding.
She had read up that the town was practically owned by the Apple Clan, and whilst she rarely listened to rumors without heavy dose skepticism, the Apples she had the ‘fortune’ of meeting normally had some incestual behaviour to somepony in their family tree. A pony does not normally represent an entire group, but perhaps Ponyville was an outlier. Sure, that Orange Apple one didn’t seem to be mentally challenged, but it could just be that she was the lucky one in the family.
And Twilight Sparkle.
Trixie ignored the way how her heart skipped a few beats at the image of the purple Unicorn, and shifted her mind to another aspect. She was no normal unicorn, Trixie was sure of that, not with that sort of magical strength. If she had to guess, the mare probably came from Canterlot. A Graduate from the fabled Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorn, most likely. Or, part of Trixie’s treacherous mind whispered, she could be the elusive protege who saved Equestria from Eternal Night.
Trixie snorted. Laughed, before subduing into a soft chuckle. “Trixie surprises herself, sometimes,” she said to herself, shaking her head. “Truly ridiculous.” She opined aloud—
Or would have, had her new wagon didn’t stop suddenly, and tripped Trixie down face first to the hot, dried, and merciless dirt road.
“Argh! ” Trixie sputtered, spitting out dirt. She growled, snapping up to her legs, and glowered at her new wagon. “You twice-dropped, thrice-cracked, stinking wagon! Why can’t you even work like—”
Trixie stopped, paused, and then blinked. Slowly, she peered under the wagon. Nothing. As in, there was no obstacle that could’ve stopped her wagon. No ditch that the wheel could get stuck into. No stone big enough that would need a big pull to get free. No sharp rock that would get stuck into the wheels. Just a smooth, if cracked, dirt road.
A chilling shiver crawled up to her spine. “W-who is it?” Shakily, she unstrapped the harness with quick magic, and pressed her back against the wagon’s front. Swallowing thickly, Trixie licked her lips and edged to the side. “Trixie is a trained mage, and she is not afraid of abusing her power with extreme prejudice! So if you do not want to feel Trixie’s magical retribution, flee!”
No response.
Highway Ponies weren’t common. Rare, even. Guards’ patrol routes were usually thorough and wide enough that these bandits spent their times camping in the wild—but the Guards’ patrol routes are normally strict. Somewhat predictable. As long as these outlaws stayed out of those patrol areas, they were pretty much free to do anything. Perhaps, Trixie guessed, one of them sneaked behind her, and managed to somehow stop the wagon without her notice.
Hesitantly, with a spell ready on her horn, Trixie craned her head to the side. Only to blink in befuddlement, the spell dying before it left her horn. Somehow, someway there was a large oval green portal had formed mid-air, and was now in the process of swallowing part of her wagon.
Trixie blinked, and that was enough to snap her into action. “Hey! You can’t do that, you green stinking portal!” She shouted. “That’s mine!” She grunted. The harness’ rope went taut as she pulled it with telekinesis. “You dratted thing.” Trixie growled, strapping the harness around her barrel, and pulled.
Her hooves dug potholes into the road as Trixie felt the veins on her head strained . Her neck stretched, and Trixie cursed herself for not having some convenient artifact that would sure help her by now.
Thankfully, it pulled.
Unfortunately, it pulled into the wrong way.
“No!” Trixie yelped, before the yelp stretched into a shrieking scream as she was sent careening mid-air. The green portal was pulling her wagon in faster than before, as if being wrenched apart by something big. She scrambled for her harness—
And then Trixie was gone. The innocuous green portal blinked away not a moment thereafter, leaving no sign to the world of Trixie’s presence—excepting for the ditches she had dug her hooves into.
-x-
Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, daughter of Karin the Heavy Wind, and youngest of the Vallière Sisters, was going to fail her Familiar Summoning Exam.
All evidences were already laid against her. She recalled the first time she casted a spell, and how it ended up with Father’s favorite vase shattering into pieces. She tried again at age eleven, this time under Eleanore’s watchful gaze—and it had ended with a small part of the courtyard gouged, and cringing as Eleanore glared through her dirt-covered body. The third ended with the same result, and the fourth, and so on and so forth.
She had hoped that the Academy would help her. Uncovered her element, at the very least. By how everything was plummeting down around her, Louise believed it wasn’t working as she had hoped.
Which led her to the present.
Louise had once heard a passing servant saying, “Third time’s the charm, Cynthia,” to another servant. Staring at her whitening knuckle around her wand, she couldn’t help but muse on the fourth and the fifth. What then? Does that mean the fourth will bring her luck down, and the fifth would simply ensure she would most definitely fail?
Already, she was hearing the jeers thrown at her from the circle of students surrounding her. That dratted Zerbst was probably somewhere in there, but with how big the ruckus was, it was impossible to tell who was who. Which helped, in a way. The cacophony of jeers were so chaotic that they sounded indistinguishable to her ears. Like the buzzing noise of a beehive.
She could do magic, Louise was sure of that. If not, there wouldn’t be any reaction whenever she tried to cast a spell—not even an explosion . Her status as a Noble was undeniable. But what good was a noble who couldn’t even control her magic? In the end, she was no better than a fisherman who didn’t know how to fish; a farmer who couldn’t even farm!
Her hands were shaking, Louise realized. Closing her eyes, Louise pondered what Mother would do when she received the letter of her failure.
Indeed , what would Mother do? Scenarios and images of her possible future shimmered into her mind. The best scenario she could immediately think up was being restricted from showing her face to public; locked in the Vallière’s Mansion like a bird within a gilded cage—at least, Big Sister Cattleya would be there to comfort her . She could also be pawned off to another noble; an overpriced—or underpriced, depending— trophy to support the Vallière’s status. If that were to happen, she hoped her betrothal with Wardes hadn’t been cancelled.
The scenarios then rolled into the worst case scenario: Disowned. Banished. Exiled. Hopefully ‘from Tristain’ or something following the same vein, and not ‘from life’.
“Vallière…”
Louise’s head snapped towards the voice. Balding head, with only some surviving brown hair on the side. Concerned dull blue eyes, and a pair of small glasses perched on his nose. Good man, Professor Colbert was. A better teacher too, when compared to the other teachers, even if he was prone to flights of fancy. He didn’t neglect her, and quite willing to answer any question she had. Shame she couldn’t attend his class if she failed her summoning. Well, she probably could , but it involved several manners of planning that Louise wasn’t keen on thinking right now.
She sniffed, clenched her wand tighter. She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t going to cry. Louise swallowed thickly. Her eyes were just a bit misty, was all. Already, she was hearing her Mother chiding her, repeating ‘Rule of Steel, Rule of Steel’ inside her head.
"One more time, Professor," she requested in a tiny voice. In the din of the students laughing, it was a miracle he could even hear her. She saw him hesitate, and Louise added, "Please."
The old professor licked his lips, before nodding tentatively, “Granted.” He said. “But this will be your final attempt, Louise,”
Louise smiled shakily. “Thank you, Professor,” she muttered under her breath.
"Make it your best explosion, Zero!” Someone shouted. Male. Ginger, and lacking in soul. She didn’t know his name; probably someone unimportant. “It’ll be your last!” Laughter exploded right after.
Louise gritted her teeth, refrained from aiming her wand at the crowd, and took a deep calming breath. After a moment, she braced her wand to the air. The court quietened, watching her in rapt attention. She was either going to fail atrociously, or she was going to succeed. She wasn’t even going to ask for some mighty Gryphon or Manticore—she would be alright with a worm, at this point.
Licking her lips, Louise began her chant: "I, Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, in the name of the great Five Pentagon Powers, following my fate, summon a familiar."
There was a short pause as the final word left her mouth. A din of pure silence . Before her spell finally took effect.
Naturally, the ground exploded.
Only, it was different. Louise knew it. Felt it, even. The slightest of thumps after the resulting explosion, as if something heavy was unceremoniously dropped to the ground. Smoke of dirt and dust screened her vision. She coughed, covered her eyes. Her heart was beating like she was running on a marathon, and her breath rapidly circulating as the first of the smoke began to fade.
Louise held still in anticipation.
The first she noted was the relatively unharmed wagon. It was a big wagon, big enough that a person could probably live comfortably in it; it even had windows on the side. It also looked expensive. Wagons weren’t made for the portable houses, in the first place, but for simple land transportations. Still, Louise remembered seeing one of them in the passing before, and she recalled the mind-boggling price it had. It made sense, in a way; considering the many enchantments, and calculations put into the work to make sure the wagon wasn’t going to break down in the middle of nowhere.
The second she noted was its harness, where a horse—or horses—would pull the wagon. The rope of the harness looked as though something was wearing it, and she followed it...
Her eyes finally fell on where the rope's harness led her.
It was small—though for her stature, it probably stood just about her chest—blue, and undoubtedly equine. A pony. Louise felt a pang of extreme elevation at the sight. Standing stiff on four hooves, the pony had an unnaturally natural blue fur, and its mane and tail were perfectly groomed, and in a gray-blue color, while its eyes were purple in color...
And there was a horn on its forehead.
Louise felt her heart skip more than a few beats.
A Unicorn.
Unicorns were rare. No, rarer than rare. Unicorns were outright mythical. They were creatures you would encounter in tales and storybooks. There had been many claims of people witnessing one before, but they were dismissed as either false or the effects of hallucinatory potions. The first , only , and latest sighting was by... Brimir himself. Written in several passages, describing a white and majestic equine—which was now the template of every Unicorn story ever —with a long horn that could pierce the sky itself, and luminescent mane and tail that looked as though they were riding the wind.
And now there was one in front of her.
Obviously , the Unicorn she was seeing was different than how it was depicted, but it could be reasoned that only one Unicorn had been sighted, and there wasn’t any mention that there was only one kind of Unicorn. After all, no horses were ever the same; a horse here would be different than the one from Germania. Either the Unicorn before her was still young… or it was the Unicorn equivalent of a pony.
She gulped. Her hands trembling so much, that her wand slipped from her grip.
"No way..."
"Did Zero just..."
Even Professor Colbert looked as stunned as she and the other students, but he was the first to recover. "Louise," he started, seemingly breathless. "Please make a contract to your... familiar."
Louise blinked, licked her lips, and breathed deeply as she picked her fallen wand. It took her a third try before her trembling body could pick it up properly. The unicorn's head snapped up to her at her slow approach, and she had to stop immediately. It’s scared , Louise realized. The Unicorn’s face looked even more… emotive than what a normal horse would be. Its muzzle looked odd; as if curved. It looked softer, and somehow… feminine.
"Shh," she offered a placated hand. "I'm not going to hurt you..."
()_()_()
Trixie stared at the Pink Beast’s, eyes wide as dinner plates, and muscles taut and ready to spring out any given moment. Surrounding her was a circle of strange, unknown bipedal creatures. Different shapes. They were like a Minotaur if a Minotaur had a mane, hairless, flat-faced, and without the impressive slab of muscles. Which meant they looked nothing like a Minotaur, but it was a good effort while Trixie tried.
Her eyes focused back on the approaching Pink Beast.
“I’m not going to hurt you…”
The showmare was pretty sure it was lying. And Trixie was pretty convinced it was mocking her. After all, nobody kidnapped—and yes, Trixie concluded that she had indeed, gotten kidnapped —someone and expected that someone to trust the kidnapper not to hurt them. Nine times out of ten, those kidnappers would hurt you, either physically or mentally. That’s a fact.
So yes . Despite the seemingly placating gesture offered to her, Trixie was not tricked. She was the Mistress of Tricks, Showmareship, and Illusion, and because of that, she knew every trick in the book. Trusting kidnappers had been proven to be a bad idea. The moment you did so, they would cage you down into the paradoxical Stockholm Syndrome.
Really, why would you sympathize with those who would harm you, or possibly monetize you? That’s stupid.
But as much as Trixie wanted to call in thunder to incapacitate the belittling Pink Beast, but Trixie scrapped that plan when she included the dozens of these Beasts surrounding her. That would simply be suicidal. No doubt these savage beasts would run her down the moment she showed resistance, like most kidnappers would.
Instead, Trixie resorted to what she was best at.
A wispy blue glow, not unlike a particularly sparkling fog, formed around her horn, and the Pink Beast halted to a stop; frozen hand half-reaching out to her. Its eyes were wide and pink, and Trixie had to admit that the flat-face was surprisingly emotive, and perhaps, even the slightest bit feminine.
Trixie ignored the conclusion she had speculated, and focused on into herself. She closed her eyes, and concentrated. It was harder than usual, likely because the Pink Beast was just a couple strides away from her, and that she was multitasking to cast two spells at the same time. Minor spells, true, but so was rubbing your tummy clockwise while rubbing your forehead counter-clockwise at the same time with the increasingly quick ticking of an explosive.
She heard the Pink Beast took a step forward, the soft crunch of grasses and soil against a solid surface—a boot, perhaps . Trixie’s beating heart quickened, and suddenly aware of her still wet face from drinking water, the droplet of sweat rolling down from her cheek and then to her chin—and then there was a click in the back of her mind, and Trixie felt the familiar feeling of magic coursing through her body, not unlike a low-voltage lightning.
When Trixie opened her eyes, her sight phased through her hoof and into the green grass beneath. Trixie smiled, both arrogant and triumphant. When she carefully stepped back, the smile stretched even further when the Pink Beast’ eyes didn’t track her, and instead stayed on the spot she was earlier—because standing there, there was a life-size copy illusion of her, horn-glow fading as it stilled.
It was a shoddy work. Utterly flawed. Her Coat of Invisibility would break at the slightest of disruptions, and she could spot the flaws immediately on her illusion—her nuzzle longer than normal, the slight depression on her cheeks, her horn sharper and growing in girth. Her forelegs looked disproportionate; one thicker, and the other sleeker. Minor flaws, unnoticeable, but flaws nonetheless. Fortunately, the Pink Beast didn’t seem to notice the change.
Trixie took another step back. Despite the din of silence, nobody noticed her. For all the eyes, and poor perception to see, she was invisible. Lights reflecting away from her; ignoring her existence as Trixie took another step back. Another. And then another until she was safe at the back of her new wagon, her behind pressing against the comforting wood of her new wagon.
That was a close one, Trixie thought, rubbing her rapidly beating chest, sagging against her new -wagon as she controlled her breathing. It reminded her too much of Griffinstone—not a good spot for vacation, that —if Trixie had to be honest; a flock of bloodthirsty Gryphons who were quite keen on eviscerating her to strips of flesh because they couldn’t handle Trixie’s admittedly… crude performance. Only difference was that she didn’t know what these beasts would do to her—perhaps as some glorified pets, Trixie thought grimly, watching the hodgepodge of animals by the other beasts’ side.
She shuddered, before huffing silently. As if they could cage the Great and Powerful Trixie! After a moment, Trixie craned her head over the wagon, and—
Trixie will not lie. There was some much needed self-satisfaction as she watched the Pink One’s minotaur-like limb phased through her illusion’s head. It began to express several mix of emotions in a single moment, before settling into shock as its hand moved, flailed through Trixie’s illusion. The court became silence, but it quickly exploded with laughter as the other Beasts laughed, throwing not a few jeers—”Hah, even her familiar is not real! A true Zero, indeed!” “Hey, Louise, who did you pay to make that illusion?” —and Trixie would’ve joined in if she wasn’t in the process of escaping.
Instead, Trixie simply bowed as an invisible puppeteer before she scurried back to her hiding spot.
“Shut up!” Trixie’s unruly kidnapper turned red, stomping the ground below her. “I did summon the Unicorn! It reacted when it saw me!”
“And where is it now, Zero?” someone retorted aloud, laughter in his voice. “Oh, oh, mayhaps it is the wagon that is your familiar!” Another round of laughter ensued.
The Pink Beast—or Zero, as it apparently was —released a rather impressive growl. “Shut up!” Not impressive was Zero’s size, and ergo, it made her more adorable than intimidating. “I saw it! I summoned a real Unicorn—and-and I’ll prove it to you!”
There was a saying about insanity that Trixie didn’t quite understand, but she thought it fit the situation as Zero clenched the wooden stick in her fist and clawed through the illusion. It was a mix of funny and sad, and Trixie would have sympathized if… the Pink Beast wasn’t responsible on the act of kidnapping her. Which she was. So no sympathizing for her.
Trixie turned back to the wagon, and adjusted her—oh yeah, Trixie’s hat is inside. The showmare grumbled under her breath, mood plummeting, as she watched the crowd around the court. With how they were spread, it would be hard to break through without one or two of them noticing something odd. Less said about the more perceptive ones the better, but since they hadn’t noticed her, Trixie considered it a less worrying possibility.
Licking her lips, Trixie scanned the area for a passage to escape. There was a castle off to the side—definitely uglier when compared to Canterlot’s. Five towers surrounded the land, forming a pentagon and perhaps some ritualistic symbol or meaning that Trixie couldn’t understand.
There was an older looking beast standing off the crowd. Bald, blue eyes, and a pair of glasses hanging off its nose. It—or a he, Trixie dared to guess —wore a rather elaborate garment which covered almost the entirety of his torso, a gnarly looking staff on his hand. With her great observational skill, Trixie guessed that his expression was half-confused, and half-wary.
On the latter deduction, Trixie hoped she was wrong. But with how his eyes seemed to sweep around the court, Trixie feared she was right.
Trixie shook her head, swept through the crowd once more, and considered her options. Distraction . Well, that , or Trixie could just hunker down until the crowd dispersed. They looked like they were rapidly growing bored, and craning her head aside, she could understand that; there was only so much the Zero’s flailing could gather attention.
Right, waiting it is.
()-()-()
Louise crossed her arms and glared at the still illusion. There was only so much flailing she could do through the perpetually-fearful illusion before her arms grew sore, after all. Some part of her felt tired; sluggish, and the only thing she wanted was to flop on her bed and cry herself under the pillow to sleep until tomorrow. Then another part of her chimed in that Mother would definitely banish her from life if she found that out, and this was her future, right here.
On the bright side, the circle of jerks had grown relatively bored, now. Blessed silence. She needed that right now, and she couldn’t help but smirk when she saw not a few of them beginning to depart. Most did so through levitation—overcompensating, insecure show-offs —and few actually daring to use their legs for something, once in awhile. Not the stinking Zerbst though, mainly because Tabitha summoned a fiddling dragon, and that they were friends.
She wasn’t envious. Envious implies that she acknowledged them being better than her, and even if they objectively were, she wasn’t going to acknowledge that. Louise huffed silently, turning back to the blue Unicorn, and blocking the blithering Zerbst’ dirty farewell.
Before promptly narrowed her eyes as her eyes caught something amiss on the Unicorn. Inconsistencies. Unnoticeable at a glance; still so after a long look, and they wouldn’t make any meaning if Louise hadn’t seen the real article. How its nuzzle seemed to become longer, and the slight depressing on each cheek, or how the horn looked sharper than how Louise first remembered. There were more—minor unimportant flaw piling into a mound of flaws.
Louise gasped, understanding dawning on her eyes. Of course! It made so much sense that Louise nearly smacked her head for not realizing earlier. “It’s a test,” Louise muttered under her breath, grinning. Of course it was a test. This wasn’t just some animal that was going to be her Familiar, but a mythical Unicorn. It wasn’t just going to be that easy.
The pink-haired mage who couldn’t cast a spell nodded to herself. The Unicorn had to be nearby, and it was her test to find it, and make it her Familiar. Slowly, Louise tilted her head away from the illusion, and to the—
A large hand rested on her shoulder.
—Louise yelped, quickly whirling around, and a random spell in the back of her throat—not that it mattered what it was —only to stop short when she noticed to whom the hand belonged to.
“Miss Valliere,” Professor Colbert said, eyes commiserating. “I know that this is not how you envisioned your Summoning would be, but, for what it's worth, I believe you did summon something ,” he looked up to the wagon. “And I’ll speak to the Headmaster about that, but perhaps you should rest—”
“No,” Louise cut off. It was rude and disrespectful cutting a Professor like that, but Louise will apologize for that. She took a steady breath, pushing Professor Colbert’s hand away from her. “I’m not going to rest, Professor. Don’t you see? This is a test, ” She stressed out, gesturing with her hands. “Some sort of way to–to see if I deserve this, and giving up right now would mean to fail immediately!”
“And what if you won’t?” Colbert asked.
Louise smiled glumly. Indeed, what would she do? “I’ll cross that road later, Professor.” She answered. “At the very least, could I check inside the wagon?"
Professor Colbert stared at the wagon. After a moment, Colbert shrugged. “I suppose so. Technically speaking,” he remarked with small humor. “That wagon is yours to own,”
Louise nodded. Well, she thought, I suppose there is still that if I failed this… test. “Thank you, Professor.”
He responded with a wave of his hand. “Don’t mind it, Miss Valliere. But I should probably accompany you, just to make sure everything is safe.”
The pink-head nodded as she moved towards the back of the wagon; Professor Colbert took her side. It wasn’t like she had any authority to deny Professor Colbert—at least, not one without wasting time and burning bridges between him and her. Figuratively speaking, of course. Hopefully.
They stopped in front of a plain door, a tiny stairs leading up to it. It didn’t look anything special aside from being coated in with something yellow, and quite small—nearly at Louise’s height. Staring at it, Louise pondered what manner of person would try to make a Unicorn pull their wagon. Then she paused. What if it’s the Unicorn itself?
Louise stored the thought for later contemplation as she stepped up the mini-ladder. Professor Colbert stood behind her, looking strangely alert as he glanced sharply to the left, before back to the wagon. Odd. The metal knob on the door made a ka-chlick noise as she turned it around, and the door swung open with the slightest creak from the hinges.
Inside was as what Louise had both expected, yet at the same time, not . It was big, as expected; spacious enough for it to be turned into a bedroom, and still having some space to walk around on. It was also well furnitured; that, Louise hadn’t expected. There was a bed pressed over the corner at the size of a slightly larger child, a sizable chest sitting the bed’s front, and a small receptacle beside said bed.
There is also a wardrobe pressed on the side, and a wooden desk on the other, just right under the windows. Trinkets and baubles were cluttered on the floor and desk; from broken snowglobes to amulets and pendants. There were even letters in envelopes scattered, including a rather poor stick-figure drawing of a… blue Unicorn wearing something purple.
“Impressive,” Professor Colbert noted behind her, snapping Louise out of her reverie as she squeaked in surprise. “Whoever made this must’ve been a talented carpenter; though it certainly lacks ventilation,”
Louise shot Professor Colbert a sour look over her shoulder, before stepping aside from the threshold to give him some entry. True to his observation, the wagon’s interior felt more than a bit warm. Carefully, as not to step on the scattered trinkets, Louise wandered onto the wardrobe.
It was a long rectangular yellow wood—though standing just a couple head taller than her —and separated into two compartments; a couple drawers on the bottom, and the doors atop of it. Polished well, Louise noted as she traced a finger on the surface, before gripping both doors’ handle and opening it.
Capes. Purple capes, and purple wide-brimmed hats. They were hung upon a horizontal pole; seven sets in total. Colorful yellow-blue stars spotted both articles, and Louise marvelled at their softness as she brushed her hands on them. Despite its liberal usage of dye, flashiness, and exoticness, they looked more like a set of uniforms like she was currently wearing than something you wear for an event.
Louise licked her lips, grabbing a set off the pole to examine it closer. It smelled of something fruity—blueberry was Louise’s best guess—and the size leaned more on the smaller side than to someone like the stinking Zerbst. The inside’s color was the same as the outside, if embroidered with soft wool for extra warmth. A pair of ribbons, crisscrossed in midnight and sky blue, were made to tie the cape around her neck.
Louise furrowed her brow. “It would fit me rather nicely, wouldn’t it?” she muttered. Before blinking. Perhaps even the Unicorn, she added, but did not say.
Then she blinked, turned to the wardrobe. Just capes and hats. Gulping, she turned to the pair of drawers on the bottom, and pulled them open. Socks. Stockings. Louise blushed furiously. And something frilly.
Louise shook her head fiercely. That’s not the point! They were large; larger than what the human legs could afford without being angrily butchered or grotesquely deformed to the point of unfamiliarity. Her eyes fell to the drawing of horse stick figures on the ground, and Louise gulped.
“Professor,” she called. “I don’t think this wagon belonged to a person,”
“Neither do I,” Professor Colbert looked up from where he crouched. Dangled loosely around his hand was an amulet of a winged Unicorn, angry red eyes above the red gem impressed on it. “I believe we should leave, Miss Valliere. Take a rest for the day—it’s getting late. I’ll ask the Headmaster about this,”
Louise hesitated. “But what about the Unicorn? I couldn’t fail its test, Professor!” Her hands clenched to a fist around the purple cape and hat. “If I am to give up, then I won’t be worthy as its Master,”
Professor Colbert stood up from his place, fixing Louise a sharp look that made her flinch, before softening as he sighed. “I suppose we could have another hour to search the place, Miss Valliere. While I don’t doubt of its existence, I don’t think the Unicorn still remained here,”
One hour later, Professor Colbert was proven right. No matter how much Louise searched the place, there was no sign regarding the Unicorn’s whereabout, or if it’s going to show up. Or if Louise had passed or failed the test. Or if there was even a test in the first place.
Louise gripped tight on the cape and hat on her hands as she held back the tears, making her way back to her dorm.
“Don’t worry, Miss Valliere,” Professor Colbert comforted on the way. Failing, but he tried. “Even though you failed to gain a Familiar, you did summon something—I’ll try to convince the Headmaster so you could still study in here,”
Louise offered him a strained smile. It wouldn’t even matter where she studied if–when Mother would inevitably hear the news of what a failure her daughter was. “Thank you, Professor,”
“I’ll also have a few guards around the wagon to keep away from curious eyes. Good night, Miss Valliere,” Professor Colbert informed, before breaking away to a different route.
Louise sighed, staring at the purple cape and hat. “One could only hope,” she muttered under her breath.
()_()_()
Trixie fumed. How dare they? Kidnapping wasn’t enough, and now they resorted to stealing?! “Argh!” Trixie stomped her hooves, flaring her nostrils. Oh, that pink haired thief. That one will see why the Great and Powerful Trixie was not one to be messed with—
And Trixie promptly deflated, staring at her new wagon. She couldn’t take it with her. Not when she didn’t know the lay of the land, and it being heavy. Of course. Once was a coincidence, twice was becoming a pattern. She would be hardly surprised that her next wagon would suffer some sort of unfortunate accident.
She shook her head, and waited to make sure none of them were coming back. After a while, Trixie made a swift motion of entering her wagon. It was a mess. Her floor cluttered with broken baubles, not-so broken baubles, and useless baubles. Sometimes, the life of a collector was harder than advertised.
A blue saddlebag with her Cutie Mark on it floated to her back, and she moved to her wardrobe. Her eyes darkened. One set was missing. No doubt it was what that Zero had taken—Trixie promptly swiped a set into her saddlebag, and another she immediately wore. The fabric almost felt like a second-skin—a trusty always agreeing companion—to her.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the bottom drawers. Socks. Stockings. Her cheeks flushed into red. And something frilly.
S-she didn’t buy it on purpose! It was an accident that she had bought it, and they were on sale. Besides, t-they were comfortable to wear when it’s cold, and—
Trixie swiped a pair of midnight-sky blue striped socks into her saddlebag, and ignored the others as she slammed the drawers close. “Hmph,” Trixie huffed. No doubt that the Zero had taken a look. What a stinking pervert!
She shook her head, banishing the flush on her face as she moved to take whatever she could. The pouch of Bits under a plank that she kept for situations like this—not a lot, but enough for her to get by —clinking as she deposited it to her bag. Unbroken jewelries for later purposes—
Her eyes fell on a stick-figure drawing of her with a brown stick-figure foal. She paused, smiling, and promptly took that one into her bag as well.
The sun had completely sunk when Trixie was out. She looked up with a satisfied smile—
A smile that was immediately replaced with terror.
Because there were two moons.
Author's Note
Oh vey, I wrote 'nother fic! Here's hoping I could finish it!
You Can Lead a Horse to Water...
But You Can't Make It Stop
There were two moons in the sky.
Trixie did not expect that, she thought dumbly.
One was blue, and the other was red. The former was bigger, and the latter was smaller. In a way, it reminded Trixie of those eyes deranged ponies would have. Unbalanced. Unsymmetrical. “How?” she asked quietly. Trixie shivered, and felt as though she had been drenched in ice water. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
For a moment, Trixie waited for a rebuttal. Like the cheerful, ‘nothing is impossible!’ Foals loved to make themselves believe. But aside from the wind blowing through the blades of grasses, and leaves, everything was silent. Trixie gulped, and forced herself to move under a tree not far from her—no point in standing in the open, after all . It didn’t calm her frayed nerves, but it was enough to snap her from hyperventilating.
There were two moons.
Trixie felt it bore repeating. Twice. Or was it thrice?
That should be impossible. Admittedly, she had thought of the same thing that one time the Mare in the Moon had suddenly vanished from the moon’s surface, but that was an entirely different matter—at least that one had been quickly resolved in the form of Princess Luna, and still resembled the silver moon. These two weren’t even close to anything silver.
And hadn’t that been a shock? Princess Luna, formerly known Nightmare Moon, a literal Princess out of a fairytale maddened and possessed by jealousy on condemning the world into Eternal Night, before she was purified by the Elements of Harmony. There was no small part of Trixie that wanted to meet the Princess of the Moon; and if it wasn’t for Ponyville, Trixie probably would have.
Staring at the two moons, Trixie pondered how likely it was that Princess Luna had gone mad again. After all, just as there was a first time for everything, there was also a second time for everything. And there was something wrong in the world when she thought it was possible. But it was still unlikely—even if it did happen, Princess Celestia would’ve acted first to prevent that, or if Princess Celestia had failed, this side over here would be in a state of Eternal Day.
Besides, how would Princess Luna change the color of the moon, anyway? Or how she could add another moon. It was possible, but still highly improbable.
“What would the other explanation be?” Trixie murmured. “Think, Trixie, think—” an idea came to her mind, and Trixie’s eyes snapped wide: the Green Portal.
That could be the other explanation, couldn’t it? The portal was obviously the result of some barbarous ritual to kidnap-slash-summon beings from a far distance away, and since the Zero had ‘failed’, it was probably something akin to a stepping stone for these beasts. Trixie had never seen or heard these beasts before and she considered herself well-travelled for a showmare. So either these beasts were particularly secluded, or Trixie was on the other side of the planet.
The former was certainly out. No race could ever be considered ‘secluded’ when they were this advanced in a matter of civilization: a castle which signified their architectural ability—though quite mediocre compared to Canterlot Castle —and wearables which meant they had some form of hierarchy to differentiate who were rich, and who weren’t. They could also use Magic, with how they managed to levitate themselves; either instinctive like Pegasi Magic, or more similar to hers.
So that just meant that Trixie was on the other side of the planet. But what if the Green Portal had taken her somewhere farther than the other side of the planet?
Trixie gulped, felt herself pale; felt herself shiver as though her veins were frozen solid. What if Trixie wasn’t on the same planet anymore? “But that’s impossible ...” even to herself, the words rang hollow.
She gazed up to the sky. The strange, and alien sky. She hadn’t thought it was possible, but for the first time in so many years: Trixie Lulamoon felt truly lost.
Trixie took a deep breath. “No.” She shook her head away from the sky. “The Great and Powerful Trixie does not do ‘lost’ . She is merely homeless , and it’s nothing that a show or two and another wagon could not fix. Beside,” Trixie added, casting another Coat of Invisibility. “There’s a time and place for this, and it is not here.”
Trixie nodded resolutely, and smiled like a cat, sweeping her cape with a hoof as she searched for the way out.
()_()_()
Louise stared at the ceiling of her room, malformed into an endless abyss by the lack of light. To say sleep didn’t come to her would be an understatement—she had turned left and right, counted sheeps in her head, even rubbed her tummy in a circular motion, and every time she closed her eyes, the wagon and the purple clothing would return behind her eyelids. No, sleep didn’t just not come to her, it had outright refused, and shredded the letter of invitation right in front of her before excavating to another’s bed.
Probably that stinking skunk Zerbst.
Louise growled under her breath, scrubbing her face in frustration. With a huff, she swung her legs over the bed, and snapped her fingers. The resulting lights almost blinded her poor eyes, but it didn’t take long before they got used to it. Her eyes found their way immediately to the bundle of purple she had placed on her room’s table.
Why did she take them? Louise wondered to herself.
She shook her head, scrubbing her eyes. She couldn’t sleep, and she wasn’t going to sleep again now that she was fully awake. Louise sighed as she pushed herself to her feet, and released a great satisfied yawn as she stretched herself. She wringed her hands, before moving to grab the purple bundle of cape and hat.
“Maybe checking the wagon couldn’t hurt?” Louise mused, leaning against the table. “What if the Unicorn returned? I wouldn’t be there if it did,” she bit her lips in concern, before sighing as she pushed herself away. Improbable, perhaps, but it wasn’t like she had anything better to do now.
Decision made, Louise made her way to the door—and froze as she saw her reflection on her wardrobe’s mirror. A moment passed. Heat rose on her cheeks, and she ducked her head in reflex. She was still clad in her sleeping dress, nearly see-through and exposing her–her unmentionables. “What was I thinking?” she whispered furiously, trying to regain her composure back.
Louise took a deep breath, thanking whoever it was that had set her wardrobe so strategically. She shuddered the thought of what would’ve happened if she went out in that. Bad enough that she was called Zero for her complete and unbroken record of magical failures; she didn’t need to make it worse. Brimir, she wasn’t even feeling tired. Much .
Looking around, her eyes finally fell to the uniform she had worn for today. She made to grab it, and quickly pulled it back as though she had touched something hot. It felt sticky, wet, and smelled awful from her sweat—made worse by the soot and dirt it had endured during the Summoning.
Louise scrunched her nose in disgust, cringing away. She wasn’t going to wear that , “If ever,” she added under her breath as she kicked them away, before turning to her wardrobe.
Aside from her other uniforms, and dresses she kept for special occasions, there wasn’t much. There were socks down on the drawer, with her unmentionables . One might call it dull, Louise called it being optimal. After all, she was here in the Academy to learn about magic, and how to properly harness it—though fat lot of good that did— and not… what the Zerbst was here for.
She eyed them speculatively with pursed lips. Her eyes fell to the bundle of purple in her arm—she was still curious how they would look on her, and it wouldn’t be good if she had accidentally dirtied her cape for tomorrow. Agreeing with her own reasoning, Louise grabbed her white shirt, and the indecently —yet obligatory —short black skirt. It’s as if they were made with the dirty Zerbst in mind.
She forewent her uniform indigo cape, and clasped the purple starry one she had taken from the wagon around her neck. It felt snug on her bod. Eerily so, if Louise had to admit. But it was purely accidental, Louise was sure. After all, anyone with her same body size—Tabitha came to mind —would have definitely fit in, and undoubtedly so on the Unicorn.
And she wasn’t exactly going to complain. With her admittedly… petite size—just a late bloomer, Mother had assured her in a strange show of sympathy —it was hard to have an outfit fit in without being called a child by the seamstress. She twirled before the mirror, smiling at how the bright purple seemed to go with her pink hair. Certainly better than than the dark indigo of her uniform cape.
Plopping the hat over her head, feeling all too giggly when it fit her perfectly, Louise stepped out of her room. The corridors were mostly empty as Louise walked through them, though she did have the misfortune of having a set of ears and eyes for witnessing Guiche flirting some brunette First Year. She shuddered. Sometimes, Louise pondered if Monmontrency was aware of his unfaithfulness and was purposely letting him off so she could justifiably striked him back tenfolds. The blond fop certainly didn’t make any effort to hide it.
They were doing it in an open hallway, for Brimir’s sake!
Louise shook her head, sighing as she hurried to outside. The cold wind of the night welcomed her with a chilly breeze, and Louise thanked the Strategically Placed Mirror once more lest she would be freezing solid by now. Louise breathed, hugging herself. Under the twin moons, the grasses and the surrounding had taken a beautiful magenta tint. The crickets sang from a distance, still loud enough for her to hear, serenading a hidden melody in the air.
At night, everything felt almost peaceful, and Louise hurried along to where she had done the Summoning Ritual.
The wagon was still there, but it wasn’t alone—two guards stood about the wooden vehicle, their dull armors glinting off as magenta under the moonlights. School guards , to be exact; the Academy’s paid cannon fodders when things go awry, while the Mages would bring the assault from the back. Louise only remembered two times she had seen them: the first time when she first arrived at the academy, where she saw them guard the gate, and the second when last year’s Third Years’ Potion-Making class had gone horribly wrong.
Why were they here? Louise pondered, before groaning internally as she recalled what Professor Colbert had told her before separating.
Louise sniffed in disdain, grimacing as one of them noticed her arrival. Sun-tanned skin, dull brown eyes surrounded by dark bags, and a dark-brown beard so untamed it could rival a porcupine’s back. “Evening,” Louise said curtly.
“Evening, Milady,” the guard reciprocated. Carefully, he asked, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
Louise snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s none of your business,”
The tanned man nodded. “So it is,” he said eventually. He tilted his head. “Is there anything we can help you?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding at the wagon. “I would like you to step aside so I could get inside my wagon,” technically speaking, Louise added silently. She would return it to the Unicorn if it showed up to reclaim it.
“Oh.” He blinked, glanced at his partner—who looked all too happy to ignore him, sitting cross legged on the ground —and then back at her. “Our apologies, Lady Valliere, but we could not help you in that matter.” He said, looking down at Louise. “But order’s order, and Professor Colbert told us not to let anyone entry.” He paused to lick his lips, shuffling on his legs. “Even you.”
Louise blinked. “Why?”
She got a shrug in return. “I hazard that it’s because you should be resting like the others?”
Louise scowled, clenching her hands into a pair of fists. Professor Colbert was correct in his suspicion, Louise supposed, though it didn’t make her liking it any bit. Louise glared at the guard squarely. “Step aside, or you’ll regret it,” she demanded, stomping her legs. To further prove her point, Louise pulled out her wand in a practiced motion, and aimed it at Duller’s thinly armored chest.
Louise will not lie. There was some much needed self-satisfaction as the guard stiffened immediately. Even the one on the back had gone ramrod. Commoners were one of the most important aspect in society, Louise will admit freely. But knowing that, for all she was a failure as a mage and noble, there would always be someone beneath her was still nonetheless reassuring.
“Please,” Louise glanced at the other man, joining in the conversation for the first time, both of his hands raised in a placating manner. He chuckled uneasily. He looked to be the less duller of the two. “No need for violence. It’s already late, and people are already resting for—”
“They won’t be for long if you don’t allow me in,” Louse cut him off. A bluff, but they don’t know that.
“Well,” the Duller Guard cleared his throat, catching Louise’s attention. She noted that he was leaning pointedly away from her, hands raised above his shoulders. “Obviously, we are at an impasse, Milady. Such as it is,” he added quickly. “You could still do many horrible, horrible things to us that would burn today into our mind. Whenever we would suffer upon misfortune and misery, we would remember this day, and though we would not dare say it aloud, we would condemn your name in the back of our mind—unaware our own faults from that day. So,” he paused to take a breath, before promptly stepping aside. “Don’t say we haven’t warned you.”
Louise blinked. Opened her mouth, and clicked it close when no sound came out. “Duly noted,” she eventually said, before passing both guards and over the back of the wagon.
She could barely make out the Less Dull remarking about Duller’s response, before she closed the door.
Louise sighed heavily, pressing her back against the wall as she pocketed her wand back and closed her eyes. The thick wooden board felt warm on the back of her head. Going against an authority figure’s order, however indirect? Check. She had never done that, before. Louise pondered if she was entering that rebellious phase of her age.
She shook her head, hoping that Professor Colbert would be as understanding as usual as she opened her eyes, and gave the wagon’s interior a lookover—oh Brimir. Her eyes widened, looking over the floorboard. Last time she was here, there was a childish drawing of horse stick figures. It was missing.
Louise gulped, before rushing over the floorboard. Carefully, she crouched on four, swiping the broken and the not-so-broken trinkets aside for room. Her head swivelled frantically across the floor as she sifted through the letters and baubles. She had opened one of the letters before, though she couldn’t quite read it since it was written in a strange unknown language, so she ignored them for now.
It was a picture of a blue and purple horse stick figure standing on a badly scribbled stage. There wasn’t even a stage on the last drawing!
She scrambled up to her feet, a couple beads of cold sweat trailing down to her chin, and a couple strides away from combusting in frustration as she looked around, wildly. It couldn’t have been, right?
Louise felt a knot form in her throat, a ball of dread growing in her chest. What if the Unicorn didn’t want—never wanted to be her Familiar?
Louise trembled, and forced herself to take a deep breath. Tilting her head to the side, she made to unlatch the window, and swung them open. She breathed in the soothing cold wind, before promptly poking her head out. The guards had stood where she had left them, staring at her with alarmed eyes.
“What?” She asked, before shaking her head. “Never mind that. Did any of you enter my wagon before I arrived here?”
The guards blinked, and in one, shook their head. “We wouldn’t dare too, Milady,” Less Dull answered.
Louise sighed, and pulled herself back in, closing the windows part-way through—enough for the wind to come in, but not for people to peek in. She stared at the wagon for the longest moment, before sagging in defeat. She felt heavy—as though an anvil had been dropped over her back. All of today’s activity and her lack of sleep must’ve had finally hit her, Louise thought.
She shook her head, before walking over the wardrobe in a slow and sluggish movement. She opened them, and gritted her teeth in an instant. There were originally seven sets. She had taken one set, leaving them to six. There were now four. Louise slammed the wardrobe shut, and groaned miserably as she planted her forehead against the wood.
“Stupid.” She mumbled. “Idiot. Useless. Failure. Good for nothing Ze —” Louise clicked her mouth close, squeezing her eyes shut. She wasn’t going to go that far, yet . Doing so would mean accepting defeat, and short of forgetting how to breathe, Louise wasn’t planning to.
Still, it didn’t make the idea of going into a Monastery and vanish from the face of the World sounded any less better. In the case Mother would exile her upon news of her successive failures, Louise thought she could at least try to reason with her for that.
Louise grumbled under her breath, plopping herself on the bed. She pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging them close. The mattress wasn’t as good as the one in her room, but it was still comfortable, all things considered. Or maybe that was just her tired brain speaking.
Her eyelids drooped, and she yawned, smacking her lips together. The sensation of failure was still there, weighing her down. It made her want to hit something. Made her want to cast a spell on something . Something to do to grant her the momentary relief of being in control for once.
There were those guards outside, but Louise supposed she was too tired to act on that. Besides, it was already late—there was still class tomorrow, even if the rest of the day would be spent on bonding with her familiar. A familiar which she didn’t have.
Louise slumped on the mattress. She pulled the hat off, and covered her face with it.
She wasn’t going to cry. Rule of Steel, she repeated in her mind. Rule of Steel.
You Can Lead a Horse to Water...
But The Ball is Already Rolling
“Civilization, at last!”
A huge grin took over Trixie’s face as she looked around her surrounding, ignoring the few odd stares she was getting. True, the destination was vastly different than what she had in mind before all of… this, but it was certainly better than the constant dirt brown road, the hateful sun beating down on her pelt, and the drowsy plain of grasses. It was no Manehattan, and it didn’t smell like one, but Trixie was grateful nonetheless.
Right now, she was in some sort of a town square. There was a fountain in the middle, children playing around it, and people frolick about on their own business. By the way they were dressed—fashionably outdated, in Trixie’s opinion—they looked like someone from the lower hierarchy. She didn’t know how their society worked, but Trixie hazarded that they were the equivalent of plebeians .
Trixie frowned. Definitely different from current Equestria, and more akin to Old Equestria, if Trixie was right. History wasn’t her finest subject. Shaking her head, Trixie pondered where she should go—her answer came in the form of a loud yawn, and a rumble of her stomach. Trixie smacked her lips together. An inn. Preferably with proper pony food.
Trixie thinned her lips, and stared at the signs posted around the place. A boutique there, a quill-shop here. The occasional pictures were self-explanatory, but the words themselves looked like a gibberish mess of a jumbled language. “Blast,” she muttered under her breath.
Her eyes fell upon an armored figure on the side of the square. A sheathed sword dangled aloft on their belt, and a lantern in his hand. With their uncovered face, Trixie hazarded that they were both a he and a guard. Trixie smiled. Guards tend to be helpful when they were helpful, though not-so when they were not being helpful.
Under her illusion, Trixie swaggered up to the guard. It wasn’t the best illusion she had woven, but under the circumstance, Trixie thought she had done a good job. Using Zero as her template was inevitable, and changing her pink hair with Trixie’s blue hair was easy, but without a mirror to see herself, Trixie wasn’t confident.
“Excuse me, sir,” she called.
But if there was any deformity, the guard either didn’t show it or didn’t care as he looked down at her. He blinked, eyes to her hat and cape, and then back at her. “How can I help you, miss?” he grunted.
Trixie sniffed at the guard’s tone. “Could you point Trixie to the nearest and most reasonable inn around here?”
The guard blinked, and then looked at her again. There’s a gleam in his eyes that Trixie wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. He smiled. “There’s always the Charming Fairies Inn, milady. Scarron’s the owner. Big man, hard to miss. He’s always reasonable with prices…” the man paused, thinned his lips in thought, and proceeded to give Trixie the inn’s direction.
Trixie frowned as she listened to the man. Nodding along, and making sure her illusion would follow.
()_()_()
For an inn, Charming Fairies seemed rather tame for a name compared to the many others she had encountered. There was a wooden sign dangling from the inn; an image of two tiny ballerinas with intertwined legs and arms—on their back, a pair of butterfly wings. There’s more gibberish letters below them, which Trixie supposed was where the ‘Charming Fairies Inn’ was written.
The light filtered out from the entrance, and there was a loud enough bustle that Trixie could still hear them from here. Laughter, talking, and the such. Things you would undoubtedly encounter in such establishment. For the briefest moment, Trixie pondered when was the last time she had slept anywhere aside from her wagon.
A very long time ago. Trixie grumbled under her breath, tilting her head up to glare at the twin moons. No carpenter was going to be awake right now, and Trixie rather doubted the same wouldn’t apply to many others. A cold freezing wind blew over her, and Trixie hurriedly pushed her way inside Charming Fairies.
It was blessedly warm, and Trixie took a moment to relish in it. Then she opened her eyes.
Charming Fairies was… festive, for lack of a better word. People—most of them males —sat about the tables. Plates of food—is that meat? Yuck! —were served before them, and Trixie noted that some of them were drunker than the others, by their red face. They didn’t even seem to notice her entering, too deep as they were in their own conversation, .
Trixie looked around. Stopped. Blinked, before rubbing her eyes. They were still there. They, being the waitresses dressed in Prench maid outfits. And not just any Prench maid outfits either, but the skimpy ones—the ones that covered too little than should be.
She felt her cheeks flush, her legs stumbling back to the exit. One of the waitresses noticed her before she could escape, and Trixie released a tiny squeak as the female approached her. Compared to Zero—and by proxy, he r—this one looked noticeably larger, both in size and torso department. Her brown hair reached down to her waist, and she wore a blue too short set of Prench maid uniform.
“Welcome to Charming—” she paused, her mouth clicking shut as she stared at Trixie. “Aren’t you a bit too young, milady?” her eyes widened, and she hastily clapped her mouth shut. Her cheeks were red.
“What?” Trixie bristled, before glaring at the girl. “Excuse me, but Trixie is a perfectly grown, and healthy adult!”
She nodded quickly, her smile straining. “Yes! Of course.” she bowed deeply. “My deepest apology, milady. My name is Jeanne,” she looked up. Almost nervous. Trixie ponders if the girl had anxiety problem. “Is there anything we can help you with?”
Trixie sniffed. The scent of alcohol made her cringe, but she couldn’t help but salivate at the food. Fried greasy goodness, and warm caramelized onion soup with assorted vegetables. She didn’t have her lunch, did she? Or was it supper, now? Trixie shook her head. “Trixie needs a room for the night,” she replies.
“Oh,” Jeanne smiled. “Of course! Please take a seat, milady—I should call Jessica for this. Mister Scarron had eaten something disagreeable, you see.” She gave another bow.
Trixie opened her mouth, but before any word could be said, the brunette was already bouncing away into the kitchen. Or at least, Trixie thought the door led to the kitchen. It was at the back of the room, and where else would that lead to? Regardless, Trixie huffed, barely audible in the crowd, and looked for a seat.
She found one. Blessedly devoid of any lifeform that she could see, and carefully plopped herself on it. The last thing she needed right now was breaking her illusion. Goddesses know what these brutes would do to her if they saw her pony-self.
The smell of food was becoming more and more tantalizing now. Her stomach yearned for food. Peeking at the plates, she scrunched her nose in disgust. Some of those dishes weren’t even something she would touch eat, much less eat. She had met ponies who did, but she never understood those ponies. Still, she could spot a few that she could eat. Warm onion soup. Eggs. Prench fries.
Thankfully, Trixie didn’t need to contemplate the wisdom of launching herself on another’s table and act like a particularly rabid mongrel as she saw the—presumably—kitchen door open through her periphery. There was the same brunette girl from before, and another beside her. She had a long black hair that reached down to her back, was noticeably larger in the chest area, and blessedly wore something decent. That alone was enough to put her on top of Trixie’s admittedly short list.
The pair parted away after a brief and whispered conversation. Jeanne, the wearer of a disturbingly perverted outfit waved at Trixie, before hurrying after a customer’s call of ale. Or whatever it was these men loved to drink. The one wearing a barmaid made her way to Trixie, tiny hops in each of her step.
“Hello, welcome to Charming Fairies,” she tilted her head curiously. “Jeanne said you wanted a room?”
“Indeed.” Trixie confirmed with a confident nod. “Trixie would want a room for the night to retire,”
In Trixie’s opinion, the girl’s smile seemed to grow bigger at her affirmation. “That’s great! Oh, you can call me Jessica,” she offered a hand. Trixie stared at it for long. Unless she wanted to break her own illusion, she wasn’t going to shake that. Jessica’s smile faltered, clearing her throat as she dropped her hand. She shuffled in place. “Right. So, if you could follow me? I’ll take you to your room,”
Trixie nodded in reply, and trailed behind Jessica as she climbed upstairs and into a relatively empty corridor. Relatively empty in that there were just a few receptacles here and there with vases of flowers on top in varying state of ‘alive’. The noise from the main room had been muffled, but she could still hear the ever-present noise of the merriment below.
Trixie cringed. “Trixie suspects she will not be having any fitful rest,”
“Hah,” Jessica responded, before waving her arm. “You shouldn’t worry, milady. We’re closing the bar anyway… once father is done with his business in the back, that is.” she grimaced at that, before stopping. Trixie thought Jessica wanted to ask something, but unfortunately for her, the hall wasn’t long, or long enough to hold the conversation and they soon stopped in front of a door.
“Anyway,” the both of them stopped before a door, which aside from the bronze-like knob, and the number oh-oh-six , looked fairly nondescript in Trixie’s opinion. She procured a key from her belt-pouch, and clicked the door open, before pushing it open. “Here’s the room. It’s not much,” she admitted. “But we’ve cleaned the room just today!” she added cheerfully.
Trixie peered inside. True to Jessica’s words, it wasn’t much. A small bed here, and a wardrobe there. A desk, and a window which looked down to the road. But Trixie expected as much. Had she wanted a room with marbled floor and a Princess-sized bed made from clouds, she would’ve looked for a hotel, and wasted hundreds of bits—of which she did not have.
“Trixie believes this is good enough,” she said after a while. The noise from below would need to get used to, but if Jessica was honest, then it won’t be something to be concerned of. “Ah, and how much would this cost?”
“Eh…” she made a strange gesture with her hand; like a scale or some sort, tilting left and right. “How about ten sous for a night?” she ventured.
It occurred to Trixie that she didn’t know what matter of currency ‘sous’. She shuffled on her legs as she gave the girl a considering look. Normally, bits were the accepted universal currency. It was, after all, made of almost-pure gold, and no other nations could boast such richness. But then again, she wasn’t in the same universe anymore, was she? “Do you accept bits?”
Jessica blinked. “Bits?”
If Trixie didn’t care for her current facial structure, she would’ve slapped herself. Instead, she settled with cringing. “Gold, Trixie meant to say. Gold coins, that is.”
Jessica stumbled back, her eyes wide as dinner plates, and Trixie wondered if she had somehow offended the girl’s ancestors or something. “S-so ecus?” she stammered.
Trixie furrowed her brows, before shrugging. “If that’s how you call your gold coins in here, then yes,” she nodded. “Ecus.” With that said, Trixie maneuvered her illusion to reach into her bag, at the same time, the real her did the same time, and pulled out her pouch of emergency lifesaving in one motion.
Jessica looked like she was about to pass out. Ill, rather, as she pointed at her pouch. “Well, that’s still a lot. Lot himself would be jealous on how lot you look like you have.” she bit her lips. “They’re all real gold, right?”
Trixie nodded. “As far as Trixie knows, that is,”
“What do you mean?”
“Trixie would not know if the government had lied to her, or if she had received fake gold,” she shrugged at that. “Here, take a look,” with that said, she opened the pouch and tossed a coin out. With the illusion she was wearing, it was harder than it seemed.
Jessica proved to have a relatively good reflex and caught the coin mid-air. With the way she was pinching it, gold glinted off the dim light. Trixie couldn’t see it, but she recalled the images on the coin like her flashy illusions. One side was of Celestia’s sun, and the other was the moon, which was also Luna’s moon, as recent events had revealed. Tiny letters were printed around the edges, detailing its making.
“I-I’ve never seen this print, before. You’re a foreigner, then. ” Jessica concluded, twisting the coin around her fingers. “And it also feels like gold. If slightly heavier,” she paused, taking a deep lungful breath, before looking back at Trixie’s eyes. There was something in Jessica’s eyes that Trixie wasn’t quite comfortable with. “Well then,” she said finally, breaking eye contact. “Gold’s gold, even if it’s foreign gold. I should probably talk with father about this first - he knows these things more than me. Until then, I’ll count this as an ecu, so…” she pursed her lips in thought. “Two, er, three weeks? I suppose. Including food, of course,”
Trixie scrunched her nose. “That’s long. Trixie believes she won’t be staying here for long.” she paused for a thought. “... Three days, give or take.”
Jessica hummed. “That would be thirty sous, then. Ninety sous as change, unless you need something else?”
Trixie perked. Her stomach would have spoken first, if she hadn’t. “Absolutely! Trixie must request a bowl of onion soup, and some toasted bread, if you would!” she grinned. “Oh, and Trixie doesn’t need the change. Consider them as tip, so to speak.”
Jessica blinked. Her jaws opened, then closed with a loud click. “Sweet summer child. ” she shook her head. “I’ll just keep it in your tab, yes? If you need, I don’t know, the entire floor? But I’ll get your order up quick,” she added, pacing out of the room.
“Oh, and don’t forget the water!” Trixie called over. “And knock first, yes?” With that, she closed the door, and twisted the key to a click. She waited until she couldn’t hear the footsteps, before her smile fell along with her illusion.
With a long-suffering groan, Trixie slumped onto the floor. The gradations of browns on the hardwood suddenly looked interesting than ever, though the drunken commotion from down seemed to worsen. Tugging her saddlebag off her, Trixie chucked it over the bed. The following whoomps told her that she had hit the spot.
“Aurgh,” Trixie grumbled, before pulling herself off the floor, lest she became a puddle of blueberry goop―though it sounded tempting ―and hobbled to the bed. She laid her chin on the mattress, and hummed contemplatively. It felt comfortable enough. “Rooftop. Check. Now Trixie simply needs a wagon, supplies, and a map.”
Trixie paused, remembering, and then the smile came back. “And maybe a couple shows for the memory, of course.”
()_()_()
Colbert was a man of many things. Depressingly, most of those many things were regret, guilt, and some bizarre concoctions of others. Like that sensation of having a coitus with someone who looked eerily like your mother. Or grandmother.
Still, he supposed that was also one of the main reasons why he was here. Atonement. Well that, and he had always wanted to teach. Contribute to the world one last time that didn’t involve piling up more misery. Though he supposed, depending on which path his students would walk in the future, he could still cause much misery, however indirectly. But that was Future Colbert’s problem. And maybe even Afterlife Colbert’s problem, and right now, he was Present Colbert, and thus any misery he would cause in the future wouldn’t be Present Colbert’s responsibility.
And he was rambling. Shaking his head, Colbert focused on the amulet dangling around his hand. Cold grey metal glinted off the light, and the red ruby-like gems seemed to glare daggers right at him. Despite himself, Colbert couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.
In all his years, Colbert never thought himself being a kleptomaniac. Stealing the amulet under Miss Louise’s nose―though he doubted she even cared ―was not something he would do. But in the end of the day, Colbert was also a man of curiosity, and try as he might, he couldn’t shake off the curiosity from the amulet. Or his eyes, for that matter. Something tickled in the back of his mind. Something soft, and warm…
Someone knocked on the door.
Colbert didn’t jump from his seat, but his heart nearly did. His eyes flew wide, and he looked at his window. The sun was up. Colbert cringed, rubbing his face awake. “I didn’t sleep, did I?” Nobody answered. He felt a slight twinge at that. “Thank goodness today’s Void day,” sighing, he slipped the amulet into his pocket, and rose from his seat -- snatching his staff along the way.
A man stood right behind his door. Decades younger than him, tanned skin, and garbed in a bare-boned armor. The guard from last night, Colbert recalled, and he downed the flash of irritation from being abruptly woken up―even if the sun was already up ―like one would to a particularly belligerent puppy, and quirked an eyebrow.
“Something I can help you with?” he tried sound awake, though if it failed, the guard didn’t look particularly caring.
“Professor,” the guard dipped his head in greeting, before lifting his eyes up. His voice was dull, like the buzzing of insects. “I’m in need of assistance,” he shuffled, and Colbert saw nervousness in his eyes. “Miss Louise came last night, and slept in the wagon for the night. We’re not sure if we should…” he trailed off, before shrugging his shoulders.
Colbert sighed, rubbing his face once more. Both expected, and unexpected. Expected in that he knew the Vallière was particularly willful girl―a trait which ran along her family, he noted wryly ―and fervently inquisitive in nature. Perhaps more so than usual. Unexpected in that the Vallière girl was, in lack of better word, a teacher’s pet and wouldn’t go against professor’s say-so. “I’ll deal with it,” he said. “Please lead the way.” A pause. “Forgive me if I sound particularly… snappy, yes?”
The guard shrugged. “None to forgive, Professor,”
The walk through the corridors was thankfully uneventful, and boring. With the lack of students, Colbert guessed that they were either still asleep or preparing for the day, or he had really lost the time. Considering the sun was still over the horizon, Colbert hedged on the former.
It didn’t take long before he was standing on yesterday’s summoning field. His hand slipped into his pocket. The cold morning chill blew over him, waking him up as he tried to reign in the yawns. The wagon was as untouched―loosely speaking ―as he remembered it, and in the morning-light, he could spot the smudged remains of what used to be the summoning circle―blasted as it was by the Vallière’s explosive performance.
He knocked on the wagon’s entrance. It wasn’t locked, but manners were invented for a reason. The guard stood far to the side, and the professor noted that his partner was missing. “Miss Vallière,” he called out.
It took another set of knocking, and a couple calls before Colbert heard various crashing noises from inside. The door swung open to admit a startled-eyed Louise. Frayed pink hair under the sloppy cone hat, and ruffled coat from sleep. “Professor Colbert?” she asked, breathlessly. Then she blinked. Realization set in, and the girl grimaced. “Oh.”
Said professor returned with a bemused smile. “I would not say I am particularly angry, miss Vallière―”just slightly annoyed ”―but I am disappointed that you didn't listen to my message,”
The girl shrank. An achievement on its own, considering her size. “M-my apology, professor, but I needed to―”
Colbert cut her with a sigh. “Thankfully, there is no harm done. But I suggest you prepare yourself for today, Miss Valliere, and…” Colbert trailed off, recalling what followed after breakfast. His eyes glanced to the wagon. What was he going to tell her? Bond with the wagon? “Accompany me to the city after you are done with your breakfast. Consider this as punishment, Miss Valliere,”
Colbert forced a sigh through his nose. Well, he had been planning to the city anyway, and it was always nice to have talking companion along the way.
Louise blinked. “O-of course, professor!” she stammered soon enough.
Colbert nodded his head. “I will be expecting you near the stable,”
The girl nodded, and forced him to sidestep as she stumbled out of the wagon. Thankfully, on her feet. She puffed, and huffed, giving him another nod before she rushed back into the wagon.
Colbert stood there, feeling as though he had forgotten something. And then wished he had forgotten it entirely. “I should talk to Headmaster about her mother,” he murmured, rubbing his face, and tightened his grip around his staff.
You Can Lead a Horse to Water...
But She Still Could Get Lost
The first of many impressions Trixie got from meeting Scarron was, wow, he’s huge, trailed by a pondering thought if he was secretly a minotaur. Sadly, that was not to be. For all the similarities between these… bipeds had to the minotaurs back in Equestria, they didn’t have any fur, and settled with skin alongside splotches of hair instead. The second after her first impression, Trixie decided that Scarron would make a rather queer-looking minotaur, and a moment of looking over Scarron later, Trixie thought she puked a little inside.
Overly tight clothes which covered so little, and showed too much -- a trend Trixie was beginning to noticing in this inn -- and a set of thick make-up that pounced at you like a robbed Gryphon in one drunk night. Hairy chest, legs, arms, and a tight belly which severely contrasted against his purple tank top, and mini short pants.
Trixie never fathomed herself as a fashionista, or even at the least knowledgeable of these unknown beings, but she liked to think herself knowing what looked good, and what didn’t -- and she was certainly knowledgeable on the matter of minotaurs.
“Ulp,” Trixie’s ears drooped immediately, and she forced herself to take a seat. The room was a stark contrast compared to the ruckus of last night, absent of any noise as it was. The scent of drunkenness still lingered in the background, enough so that she wasn’t feeling sick. Off to the side,she spotted a few girls chatting together -- she recognized one of them from last night. The waiters, she supposed.
“Ah, bonjour mi mademoiselle!” Scarron sidled up to the table. Twirled, more like. He did a little filly-twirly curtsey that made Trixie cringe. A man of that muscle-size should not be doing that of all things. “You must be the guest that my little Jessica gushed about! Oh!” he said in thick Prench -- that was either fake, or outrageously exaggerated -- pressing his hand onto his chin. “But she didn’t tell me that you’re such an adorable girl!”
Trixie didn’t blush, neither did she pout, but she did shudder, and glare. “E-excuse you, but Trixie is not an adorable girl. She is a perfectly raised young adult!” she snapped. Not a complete lie, mainly because most young adults didn’t live on the road as a teenager.
“Ah, Tres Bien!” the way Scarron’s eyes twinkled made Trixie shift slightly in her seat. It was bad enough that the seat itself was for bipeds, and not quadrupeds. “My dear, if you are looking for a part-time job, you will know that this Inn will always open!” at that, he promptly spread his arms open.
Trixie recalled the waiter’s uniform, and grimaced. “Trixie thinks never,” she shook her head, regarding the man more seriously. “You must be Scarron,”
Scarron hummed whimsically. “Oh yes! The one, and only Scarron -- the owner of this inn. It is a shame I could not greet you last night,” he sighed mournfully. “Perhaps I should’ve listened to my daughter more! Who knew she could make such powerful concoction, yes?”
Perhaps you should ignore her more, Trixie thought. Outwardly, she shrugged her shoulders. “Trixie supposes, but enough of this, she is in need for breakfast,”
“Oh! Tres bien,” Trixie could’ve sworn she saw his eyes glittered. “Tell me what you want, mi mademoiselle ! It’s been long since I flexed my cooking muscle,” he winked, leaning slightly forward. “I should let you know, but I was the one who taught Jessica how to cook,”
Trixie promptly leaned slightly away from Scarron’s close proximity. He smelled of too much perfume. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Trixie wants for a cheese, and egg sandwich. And tea!” she added, hurriedly, she might say.
“Oh yes!” Scarron jumped. It was amazing how the floor didn’t buckle under him. “Anything else, my dear?”
Trixie cringed, opened her mouth to get the man back to the kitchen, then paused when a thought occurred to her. “Yes,” she blinked. “Actually. Trixie would like to know where she can purchase a wagon for a long travel,” she answered. “And of course, a map!”
Scarron grinned. “Of course! I know some people around here who would be willing to sell you a good wagon, my dear. And good maps, too! I will fill you in after I’m done cooking your breakfast,” with that said, Scarron turned around, and sauntered to the kitchen.
Trixie sagged into her chair, gazing up to the dimly lit ceiling. She didn’t have the time to ruminate it yesterday, but now that she was fresh, awake, and about to be served breakfast… the fact that she was kidnapped from a world away, something that Trixie was sure to be entirely unprecedented -- not that she would know -- frustrated her. Lost. A large hollow pang of sorrow, and despair. It wasn’t a feeling she often had. Perks of being a travelling show magician, Trixie supposed. She didn’t have a place she could call ‘home’, and thus she didn’t have to worry about being lost.
But now that she wasn’t in Equestria. Not even in the same planet of Equestria, and where the major population was these bipeds that were probably closely related to Minotaurs, but not close enough for her to be familiar…
Lost, Trixie decided, fit the entire scenario. “Curses,” she muttered, shuffling on her chair. “Trixie needs to stage a magic show,”
()_()_()
Tristania , Tristain’s Capital City, and in Louise’s completely unbiased opinion, the most beautiful city that ever had been. The architectural ingenuity of the Earth Mages who built this city. A sprawling mess of buildings; from the barely standing shacks, to symmetrical ones made through Earth magic, and opulent mansion. And above all of them, in the center of the city, lay the proud Royal Castle. Even from where she was, she could still see the towers poking out of the horizon.
Louise sighed, pleased at the sight, and turned to something less pleasant. Generally, her life. Specifically, her failure as a noble. Couldn’t cast a single successful spell, and one that did proved to be another failure. “What are we doing here, Professor Colbert?” she asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is,” she added quickly.
Here , to be specific, was the middle part of the city. Morning had turned to early afternoon during the journey here, and the merchants were already setting up shops on the side. Workers wandered around, either carrying objects from one spot to another, or whatever it was they were working. People filled the street, the well-off commoners, and the occasional nobles loitering about.
"Hm?” Professor Colbert glanced to her, and Louise held back a grimace at the dark circles around his eyes. It didn’t take a genius that it was her fault, somehow. “Ingredients, Miss Valliere,” he eventually answered.
“Oh,” Louise replied. “For the class?” she tentatively asked.
Colbert cracked a tired smile. It made him more animated. One thing to know about Professor Colbert was that he loved talking about his projects. “Some of them, yes. I am also going to pick up something I have been requesting, though I shouldn’t say much without degrading the surprise,” a twinkle entered his eyes. “I expect you will see in our next class,”
Louise blinked. Then blinked again. “Next class, Professor?”
Colbert stopped, then stared owlishly at her. “Oh. Oh. You thought,” he suddenly grimaced, before resuming his walk. Louise followed quietly. Despite the noise of the crowd, she could still feel the awkwardness in the air. Eventually, Colbert broke that relative not-quite silence. “We are not going to expel you, Miss Valliere. Never going to,”
“But I couldn’t cast any spell,” she responded bitterly.
“On the contrary, you did. Yesterday,” at that he winced. “Albeit, the result was a little unexpected,”
“It ran away, Professor.” she murmured, glaring at the cobbled street. “What sort of a Mage are you if your Familiar fled upon seeing you?”
Colbert responded with a shake of his head. “Nevertheless, you summoned something, Miss Valliere. You did the spell. Even so, the Academy wouldn’t expel you simply because you failed the Summoning. At worst, you would just be dropped to the First Year,”
Louise blinked, looking up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, for one, you’re a Valliere,”
It didn’t take much for Louise to figure what he meant, and when she did, she glowered. “So it’s just because of my Family,”
“Ah,” Colbert grimaced. “Though that plays a part, it’s not the only one. Mainly because, for two, you are obviously capable of doing magic, even if you are not capable of successfully casting a single spell,”
Louise sighed. “So?”
“So,” Colbert said, smiling. “You are a Mage, Miss Valliere. Perhaps not a good one, but that’s not a good enough reason for the Academy to expel you, especially when one considers your Family,”
Louise let that sink in for a moment. It made sense, she supposed. Her Mother was merciless, and she couldn’t even imagine what she would do them if the Academy expelled her. Even the thought made her shiver to the core. It still didn’t cure the fact that she was inept in magic, but it helped. A little. “I see,”
Colbert nodded. “Yes…” he trailed off. A worrying look of dawning realization on his face.
Louise shuffled. A sudden blade of nervousness stabbing her vein. “What is it?”
“But,” Colbert sighed. “It would be a different matter if your Family pulls you out of the Academy themselves,”
“Oh,” well, Louise could see that happening. A couple years studying here, and still no result beyond an admittedly good grasp of the theoreticals. She could see her Mother just thundering to the Headmaster, and demand to take her back home. In a way, Louise planned for it. Who knew, maybe she could convince Mother to send her to a monastery, and live in obscurity? It wasn’t like she make for a good noble in the first place, anyway.
Colbert shifted uncomfortably. He cleared his throat. “Indeed,” he finished lamely.
There was a long sobering silence.
Colbert shifted awkwardly. In the end, it was him who broke the silence, “Louise, a word of advice?”
Louise blinked, looking up. Mutely, she nodded. “Of course, Professor,”
The older of the two hummed. “Please don’t let magic define who you are. True, nobility comes with magic, but the opposite could not be the same. You may not be the best mage I have met--”
Louise snorted softly. “I believe that is a severe understatement,”
“Nevertheless,” Colbert smiled wryly. “What I am trying to say is, merely because you’ve failed in one aspect of Nobility, it does not mean you’ve failed in all of them. There are plenty of ways you could do to prove your own self,”
Louise looked down. A thoughtful silence descended on the both of them, and Colbert returned to the road.
A small smile gave away on her lips. Another way to prove her worth? Was there really? It was certainly a nice thought. “Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind, Professor,”
Colbert nodded. “All I could ask.” He stopped. Louise blinked as he looked up. “Now, it seems like we’ve arrived to our destination,”
()_()_()
The way to look for the shop was not one without difficulty. Specifically, it took Trixie more than an hour to find the place Scarron had recommended her to, and another hour to find the actual building. But for all of that made her grumpy, and cranky, Trixie liked to think that it was worth it.
“Unf.”
It was Love. There was no other way around it. True, it wasn’t like the love at the first sight she had the first time she met her first -- tragically deceased -- wagon, and it wasn’t as strong, but it was love all the same.
"So. Are you going to buy this one, or not?”
Trixie groaned, flipping herself to her back. The distance between the ceiling, and where she was lying wasn’t all that much compared to her last wagon -- perhaps even on the smaller side, but Trixie thought it was perfect. After a moment, she stood off the bed, and regarded the maker of the wagon.
Lucille was a large figure not unlike Scarron. But the man standing at the threshold of the wagon was noticeable older than the flamboyant man, and his muscles were far leaner, even if they're bigger on the arms department. His white-peppered hair looked barely cared for, and his beard nearly covered his entire lower-face.
"Trixie will purchase this one,” she stated confidently. A thrill of excitement ran in with elation. It wasn’t like she didn’t like this city, but it was a nice feeling knowing that you could bail anytime. An insurance of sort, so to speak. “She believes the furniture will be added as well?”
Lucille hummed, tapping a finger on his chin. After a moment, he shrugged. “Sure. I’ll add those in with a discount,” he paused, looking at her with raised brows. “But you sure you have enough money for this thing? S’not exactly cheap,” he pointed out.
Trixie sniffed. “Of course she does,” or rather, Trixie hoped she does. With an internal sigh, she pulled out her money pouch from her bag, and levitated it to the man. “Look for yourself,”
The old man stared at the floating pouch, then sighed. “Nobles these days,” he murmured, shaking his head, before plucking the pouch off the air. He grabbed a single coin. Blinked. “Huh. Not familiar with these before,” he noted aloud, cocking an eyebrow at her.
“Trixie is a foreigner from a faraway land,” she admitted. In ways more than one.
“Huh. Well, gold is gold, I suppose,” he shrugged. Humming something under his breath, the man looked inside the pouch for a long time. He broke it with a nod, “Half of these should be enough. How about it?” he stared at her.
Were Trixie back in Equestria, she would protest about being ripped off, and many complains thereabout. But Trixie wasn’t in Equestria anymore, was she? Half of her emergency saving, gone in almost two days. And she couldn’t even know if she was being swindled or not. It seemed like a waste, and...
Then she gave the wagon another look, and the answer came to her with hefty sigh. “Oh foo. Most definitely,”
The man grunted in acknowledgment. “Let’s get to the front first,” he tilted his head over his shoulder. “I could count the money there, and I shouldn’t leave the counter for so long.”
Trixie nodded, and followed behind the man, and into the shop proper. Lucille’s Workshop, the place was called. Inside was a cluttered cluster of all variation of craftsmanship -- from tiny trinkets, to a grandfather clock -- and the scent of wood prevailed within the air. It felt almost claustrophobic, with how small the room was, and how Lucille’s items were strewn about. Maze-like was the word, and it took some effort for her not to break her illusion by accident.
That would simply be embarrassing.
“Right then,” Lucille’s voice called to her as he sauntered over the back of the counter. Coins tinkled onto the wooden-surface as he tipped the pouch until there was a small mound on it. “How ‘bout this?”
Trixie eyed the mound of gold dubiously, before letting out a huff when she already knew the answer. “Of course,” Trixie swore, if she was getting ripped off…
“Yup. Okay then, here catch,”
Trixie caught the thrown pouch into her levitation with ease. She shot the man a look, before pocketing it into her bag.
“Huh.” A strange, unnerving look passed over Lucille’s eyes.
“What?” she snapped.
“I’ve never seen you touch anything, have I?”
Trixie froze. “Eh? T-Trixie does not know what you are talking about,” she dismissed, glaring up at his blue eyes. She was the first to look away. Trixie coughed. “A-anyway, when can Trixie retrieve her wagon?”
“It should be ready to go tomorrow,” Lucille answered, idly tapping the counter’s wooden surface. Tack. Tack. Tack. “I don’t have much to do today, so I can immediately go about fitting in your furniture,”
For a moment, Trixie half-considered offering him help to get the furniture in. She scrapped that idea immediately. “Trixie is fine with that,” she nodded. “Trixie will return tomorrow,”
“I’ll be waiting, then,” he said.
With that done, Trixie gave the man another nod. Looked away from his knowing gaze, and stepped outside of Lucille’s Workshop, and out into the cobbled-street. She relaxed, shuddering, and walked. What was her next plan, for now?
A map. She needed one. Maybe three. Preferably up-to-date, but she had done with worse, before. But yes, a map. Thankfully, Scarron was helpful enough to give her a place where she could buy one. Now, if only Trixie could figure out which part of Saint Street she was, and wherever the heck is Titania Street.
“Ungh!” Trixie expressed her frustration at her lack of literacy. She refused to stomp the ground, but it was a close thing. Instead, she glared at nothing in particular. “Add ‘finding a way to read’ into the ‘to do’ list,” she muttered.
She sighed, before she looked around. With a grumble, Trixie walked down the cobbled road. Scarron had told her that the map place was near Lucille’s Workshop, so it couldn’t be that hard to find, right? The city wasn’t as large as Canterlot, or confusing as Manehattan, and she had navigated herself there just fine. Beside, worst case scenario, she could always ask someone for help…
Trixie shook her head with a snort -- and yelped as a sudden weight hit her from her behind. “Ah!” her vision swung, and her eyes widened as she lost her balance -- the ground coming closer to her -- “Ow!” she shouted, groaning as she fell to the curb.
“Oh! I’m sorry, are you--”
Trixie swung her head around and glared. “You better be sorry! And don’t touch Trixie!”
Her assailant stopped, placating hands frozen in air. Then she suddenly dropped them. Under her cloak, Trixie spotted a pair of wide eyes.
Trixie broke the silence with a huff. “Watch yourself, next time,” she said as she pushed herself up to the ground. She brushed the dust away from herself, grumbling, as she scrutinized her assailant. For one, they were a ‘she’, of that Trixie was sure, if her voice and the pair of curves on her chest were any sign. She was also wearing a rather thorough brown cloak, somewhat hugging to her body.
It was only thanks to her height that she could see her blue eyes, and a fringe of her purple hair.
“Louise, is that you?”
Trixie blinked, cocking an eyebrow at the girl. “Who?”
“I, uh,” the girl stopped. After a moment, she shook her head. “Nevermind. You simply reminded me of someone,” she shifted. “Really reminded me of someone,”
The showmare raised an eyebrow. Inwardly, Trixie couldn’t help but feel an inkling of suspicion on what the girl meant. “Well, fine then. You should really watch where yourself going next time,” Trixie nodded, as if she had imparted a perfectly sensible advice. Turning around, she said, “Now, Trixie should go now--”
“Wait!”
Trixie stopped, turning her head over her shoulders. “What?” she asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.
She saw a sign of grimace from the girl’s face. “Can I follow you for a while?”
Trixie blinked, and then turned her body fully, and blinked again. “What? Why?” she shot the cloaked girl a look. “No!”
“Well, you look like you need the companion?” the girl tried.
“Trixie does not!” Trixie hotly replied.
A pause. “You don’t need any help at all?”
Trixie huffed, rolling her eyes. “Does Trixie looks like she needs help?”
“... yes?”
“Well, um,” that caught her a bit on the flat-foot, but the Unicorn recovered quickly. “You are obviously wrong, because Trixie does not need help!” the fact that she did, of course, went unsaid. It was a matter of principle, after all.
“Well, I would still follow you anyway,” the cloaked girl pointed out. Trixie caught a pair of narrowed eyes. “I’m just asking to be polite. Even if you say no, I’ll still try to follow you,”
Trixie narrowed her eyes. “You couldn’t,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. Illusion was her talent -- well, a part of her talent -- after all, and she had escaped from worse things.
“Maybe,” the cloaked girl considered. “But I will try, anyway, and undoubtedly it would be irritating,”
Well, the girl wasn’t wrong. Trixie had assumed that unlike Equestria, illusion magic wasn’t exactly common in here. And if the cloaked girl spotted her using illusion magic, well… “I’ll call the guards,” Trixie threatened.
It seemed to amuse the girl than anything else. “You can try,” the girl challenged. Bluffed. Or both?
Trixie grimaced. On one hoof, she did need help, but it was the principle of things. She had already said she didn’t need help, and backtracking on her own words would leave a bitter taste on herself. But on the other hoof, refusing would mean having a confident stalker -- and Trixie had learned long ago that confident people she had met had actual reasons for being confident.
Like one of those Nobles from Canterlot.
“Fine.” Trixie hissed through gritted teeth. With a growl, she whirled around, and stomped away.
“Oh goody!” she heard the girl say, stepping up just beside her. “So can I know your name?”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Her name is Trixie. Or just the Great and Powerful Trixie,”
“... right. I’ll just call you Trixie, then. Where are you going, if I may ask?”
“You may not,” Trixie murmured under her breath, before sighing in exasperation. May as well. “Trixie is looking for a map shop or vendor in Titania Street,”
“Well,” Trixie caught the girl tapping her own chin. “I don’t know about a map shop, but I do know that we’re walking the opposite way of Titania Street,”
Trixie stopped in her steps. Closed her eyes, sighed, and opened them again. Carefully, she turned around. “Thank you,” she grumbled. A thought occurred to her as she glanced to the girl by her side. “What’s your name, anyway? Calling you ‘the cloaked girl’ in her mind does get tiring,”
“Oh. It’s Henrietta. Just Henrietta,”
Author's Note
Finally.
You Can Lead a Horse to Water...
Author's Note
It's alive.
But Oh How Exciting!
Intimately , Henrietta de Tristain knew what she was doing was wrong. Father - bless his soul - had died, Mother still mourned, and it was up to her to take a step up. As the Crown Princess, she had her responsibilities - her own duties to fulfill, and what she was currently doing was the exact opposite of that.
But Henrietta couldn't help it. A break, she liked to think what she was currently doing. Her last, and final time to let her hair down, and push these weights of responsibility off her shoulders. She was only thankful that Agnes was very understanding about it. Oh, Henrietta was pretty sure that she was still keeping an eye for her somewhere around, but at least she hadn't gone into a sword-brandishing and musket-slinging limpet on her.
Henrietta couldn't help but release a small sigh. What had Halkegenia - or the world, for that matter - gone into? Albion - oh Wales, her heart still ached at the reminder - was in the middle of facing a coup, King Joseph of Gallian had gone awfully quiet lately, the Pope was kidnapped, and not in a couple months, she was going to marry that brutish Germanian Emperor's son for the sake of her country.
She shook her head with another sigh, and focused back on the now. Titania Street was as how she had last visited it. Closing onto the lower part of the city, it wasn't as clean as the Saint Street with its cobbled road, and nor was the markets as esoteric as the Crown Street, but the place made up for it with the bustle. Commoners frolick here and fro almost without a care, smiling in their own merry way. Merchant stands called for customers from the side, and shops of variable goods boasted their bests just behind the window.
Henrietta was not naive, or ignorant enough to notice the lack of nobles in their midst. Or at the very least, nobles who weren't actively doing their best impression of a peacock. Even now, she could feel the not-so-furtive glances to her. Or to be more specific, to the reason why she was here.
Trixie, she called herself. A girl of approximately her age, with a certain… flamboyance with the way she spoke.
Henrietta wasn't sure if that was her real, or fake name, but she wasn't particularly concerned on the questionability of that fact. Rather, she was more concerned on the eerie similarity between the petite blue-haired - and undoubtedly, if unconfirmed - mage, and the other more familiar petite pink-haired mage that was her childhood friend.
In Henrietta's opinion, there were three sorts of 'similarities' between people. The accidental sort - the one-in-a-million type of thing - the familial sort, and the artificial kind. The first she crossed immediately, because there's a limit on how similar a person can be. The second she threw with a snort - she wasn't that naive. Her Family, and the Valliere were close. Still close - 'there were rumors of your mother, and their mother' kind of close.
So if somehow, one way or another, Louise had a twin, she would have known - and the less said about the impossible possibility of Lady Karin committing adultery, the better.
Even trying to procure such an image hurt her head.
Still, that left the third option. Which was somehow both relieving, and worrying. Although more the latter, than the former. There had been rumors in the air, lately - elves coming out of the woodwork, and wearing human skins. Henrietta had never taken any rumor without a grain of salt, yet there's still a hidden kernel of truth within every rumor.
It still didn't make any sense. Why Louise, of all people? Even better, why Louise, if you weren't going to even bother? Because for all that Trixie looked eerily similar to Louise, it wasn't hard to separate the two. Mainly, her hair-color, and the clothing.
Was it a ploy to trick her? To somehow gather her attention? Ignoring how today was entirely unplanned, then it was working.
"Ah!" Trixie pointed to the side. "This must be the shop Scarron told Trixie about!"
Henrietta followed her pointing finger down to a modest looking shop - Leo's Wonderful Workshop of Ingenuities, the sign read. Bit mouthful, Henrietta couldn't help but dryly add. A stall was standing right in front of it - baskets with their sorted goods inside, and a few items showcased through hanging them by a rope from the stall's ceiling. Maps, toys, trinkets, accessories. Things you would expect from such a shop, albeit without the maps.
"You! Trixie would like a map! No, make that two!"
Henrietta's head snapped up. There was a man in charge of the stall. In his thirties, give or take. Tall, and lanky, his cheeks looking somewhat gaunt. His black hair was slicked, and touched the back of his neck, while his moustache was styled in the way those Gallians seemed to love. Curled, and sharp on both points.
He also looked like he would rather be anywhere than here, if the slouch was any sign. His eyes glanced down to Trixie. "Yes, yes," he sighed, pulling himself straight. "What map would you want? We have several of them,"
Henrietta cocked an eyebrow, and peered forward. She couldn't see them before, but now that she was closer, yes , there were a lot of maps. Piled up in a basket, almost carelessly so. It made her cringe. There was a variety of them, even of places she didn't know existed before, and she swore she spotted a few treasure maps of dubious credibility. Surprisingly, they were rather well drawn.
She gestured at them. "You drew all of these?"
He snorted. "Not me. They're all my sister's," at that, he nodded towards the shop's sign. "I'm just here tending the front,"
"Impressive," Henrietta admitted.
The man shrugged, before turning to Trixie. "So, what map do you want?"
Louise's lookalike pursed her lips. "Hmm. I believe I shall be taking two of this continent's map, if you have those, the local maps! And hmm..." she trailed off, hand tapping her chin as she browsed through the collection.
Henrietta turned away, keeping an eye on the doppelgänger - as the Germanians would call them - and looked around what the shop could offer. Who knew, perhaps she'll finally find something that would interest Agnes that didn't involve fire mages. Such occasions were rare, and should be nonetheless pursued when possible.
()_()_()
"Hmm," Trixie tapped her chin in thought, willing her illusion to do the same, as she looked through the collection of items. A variety of interesting trinkets, and novelty baubles, and maps. Maps were great. Indubitably so when you nearly spent your whole life on the road, teetering on being lost, but not quite.
There were even treasure maps here! Probably fakes most, if not all, of them - a scheme hatched by opportunists, and gypsies to fool naive fools for a quick fortune. But they were exciting nonetheless. They gave her ideas on where next to go, visit towns she had never noticed before, and if there were actual treasures? Good for her.
Her eyes stayed on a pendant. A gold-painted pear-shaped thing. There was a latch on its side, undoubtedly to store a tiny portrait, or something or the other. It reminded her of that one amulet she had recently bought. Trixie frowned at the memory. That one had costed her pretty bits, and she couldn't even remember the reason she bought it! Not that it mattered, since it was stolen along with her wagon.
"Ugh," Trixie turned away, sour mood returning. She snatched a random treasure map. She couldn't read them, anyway. "Trixie will take this as well," she grumbled.
The man cocked an eyebrow, before shrugging, carefully plucking the bundle of map from the air. "That all?"
"Yes," answered Trixie surly, pulling out her pouch of bits. "How much?"
The man named his price. Trixie tuned that out, and pulled out bits from her pouch. Really, she didn't know the conversion from bits to… whatever these people use for currency, and the less said about her literacy the better. Besides, she had noticed that her bits had worth more. Or enough, at the very least. Hopefully.
The man stared, his jaws working wordlessly. "Huh," he eventually said, grabbing three of dozen of floating Bits. He threw them up in the air, testing the weights. Fingers rubbing them. "Real gold," he licked his lips, before shrugging, slipping the bits into his pocket. "Okay then,"
Trixie rolled her eyes, pushing the Bits back to its pouch, and levitated the maps into her saddlebag. Couldn't they act more normally? "Yes, yes," Trixie rumbled out, stepping back into the street -
And jumped a couple centimeter off the air as Henrietta sidled up to her size. Trixie didn't do squeaking, but she did yelp. She stepped away from the girl, glaring. "What are you doing?!"
Henrietta raised her hands in placation, but under her cloak, Trixie saw her blinking eyes. Confusion, and a little suspicion clear in her eyes, but they were gone as quick as they had appeared. Trixie ignored the feeling of pricking-ice in her gut, goosebumps rising on her fur, and continued to glare.
"My apology, I didn't intend to startle you,"
Trixie continued her glare for a good measure, before turning away with a huff. "Don't repeat it again," she warned, walking aimlessly down the street.
"Of course," Henrietta caught up to her side, keeping a distance away. A lull of silence, disturbed only by the crowd around them. "I've never seen those mints, before. You must've come from very far away." A pause. "Very far away."
It took her a moment to get what the girl mean. "Indeed," Trixie admitted curtly, watching her steps. Something about the girl made Trixie feel a bit leery, partly uncomfortable, but she blamed it all on the whole abducted ordeal. She sniffed. "We call them Bits,"
"Naturally," the girl replied drly. "Strange name to call your currency," she pointed out.
Trixie huffed, willing her illusion to do a half-shrug, before crossing her arms. "Trixie was not the one who introduced them. And they're not strange," she defended. "One Bit, two Bits. Entirely descriptive, Trixie believes. No need for complicated denominations,"
"Of course. Can I see one?"
Trixie thought about refusing the girl, mainly out of spite because of her stubborn insistence to follow her - even if it proved beneficial on her end - and for startling her, but also partly because Henrietta was beginning to make her uncomfortable. Then Trixie realized that refusing Henrietta would make her more annoying - maybe even risk touching her! - and make her life all the more miserable.
Trixie had enough miserableness to worth a lifetime, right now.
With a grumble, and a silent curse under her breath, Trixie sneaked out a Bit from her saddlebag, and threw it right to her cloaked stalker. "Catch,"
To her disappointment, Henrietta did. "Nice throw," she commented, before pulling out another gold coin from her belt. Different mint - this place's currency, Trixie thought. It occurred to her that she didn't know what they were called.
Trixie grumbled wordlessly, turning down to watch the road. There were less people around here, more coordinated, and more people with elaborative clothing. She was returning to the higher district, Trixie supposed, before pulling out her recently bought world map.
She couldn't read them. Not the well-written-looking cursive words on them, but then she didn't need to. That was the beauty of maps. So long as they are decently-drawn, and you're not map-blind, you could still read them, regardless of your literacy capability. And this one was particularly well-drawn, so there was that too.
There were several lands, but the map only concluded five of them. Separated by thick borders, as though they were walls. Beautiful-looking cursive writing on top of each country, pointing out their significance, a small symbol that seems to represent each of them. Four of them were connected by land, undoubtedly one of them being wherever she was now, and the other… was across the sea.
Trixie made a curious noise at the back of her throat. Despite the lone land being the smallest one, it was the most attention grabbing. Something that had to do with its separation with the other countries, yet still included into the continent's map, and received its own fancy writing, and symbol.
"What's wrong?"
Trixie shakes her head, giving the girl a side-glance. "There is nothing wrong,"
"Oh," Henrietta hums, giving her a long expectant look, a hint of knowing right around the edges of her eyes. "Really?"
"Yes, really," Trixie growled, shooting the hooden girl a look, before returning to the map. There was a relative moment of silence, and Trixie didn't need to look to know that the girl was still looking at her. As she turned back to the map, part of her realized some error in her judgement. "Fine," she grumbled grudgingly, before pointing at her destination. "Trixie is planning to go here, next,"
Henrietta blinked. "Albion? You shouldn't go there,"
"You're not Trixie's mother," the magician snapped. A pause. "Why?"
A snort. For a moment, Trixie thought she saw a flash of concern. "You really don't know, do you?"
"Is it really that obvious?" Trixie rolled her eyes.
Another snort. "Albion is in the midst of a Civil War, right now," she muttered, and despite the hood cloaking her face, Trixie could see it darkening. "Or rather, a coup. Though it is all the same at the end of the day. Unless you have a band of hired mercenaries, I wouldn't go there. And even then,"
Trixie frowned, her eyes widening a tad as she considered the island on the map. War. That wasn't a word she would hear everyday, at least not actual war. The kind that was written in old History books forgotten in some untouched dusty depths of the library. Ones that weren't adulterated to make it… friendly or romanticized. Or worse, turned into some anthology of poems, or analogues to teach moral lessons to little fillies, and colts.
Was it worth the risk? Trixie wondered. Following her own wanderlust into such an obviously - and almost instinctively so - place she should go next, or her own survival instinct. Trixie was not unfamiliar with brushes of death before, and they were certainly unpleasant, but…
Well, since when had she stopped following her own wanderlust?
"Well," Trixie finally decided. "Trixie believes that such a thing will not be stopping her. In fact, if Albion is in a war, then it's all the more important for a stage magician such as the Great and Magnificent Trixie to go there, and entertain the people with her glorious magic!" she declared loudly, spreading her hoof to the general surrounding.
There's a lull of silence. Eyes were on the both of them, though mainly on Trixie. The walk resumed, almost aimless and idyllic in nature.
"You could get yourself killed," Henrietta pointed out bluntly.
Too bluntly , Trixie thought, as she stumbled in her steps, taking the air from her sails. "W-well," she recovered admirably. Trixie didn't do blushing - it was simply the blood rising up to her face. "Be that as it may, Trixie has made up her mind, and she's not one to compromise on her words!"
"... I am not stopping you," Henrietta responded carefully, almost exasperatedly. "But do be careful. It would be a shame for you to just… die." Silence descended. She wasn't looking at Trixie anymore, instead back to the pair of coins in her hands. She sighed again. "Catch,"
It sailed lazily in the air, but Trixie nearly yelped as the coin quickly careened onto her face. At the last second, it halted mid-air, her blue aura enveloping it. Trixie glared. "Hey, what's the big idea?!" she snapped, before furrowing her eyebrows. "And this is not Trixie's," indeed it wasn't. Neither side had any alicorn. Trixie gave Henrietta a look. What did she think she was? Blind?
Henrietta smiled, giving a slight titter. "Well, consider it a trade, Trixie. Though I prefer calling it 'sharing a memento,'" she added in softly, twirling the bit-coin between her fingers.
Trixie inspected the coin, flipping it around with her magic. "Sharing a memento, huh?" she muttered. "Trixie likes the sound of that," she decided, slipping the golden coin into her pouch, before she turned down to the road.
The cloaked woman hummed pleasantly at that. "That's good. Who knows," she smiled to her. For the first time, Trixie saw the woman's face fully. Fair white skin, well-cared for. Even for a pony, she could see that the cloaked woman was different compared to the others in the street. Younger, and prettier, Trixie thought. "Maybe we'll meet again,"
Trixie blinked, and the girl looked back down the street. Looking strangely stiff. "What's wrong-" Trixie followed her eyes.
There were guards heading straight to her.
()_()_()
In all honesty, Henrietta wasn't sure what to think of Trixie. On one hand, she looked almost identical like her best and childhood friend, but on the other hand, that shouldn't be possible. For one, Henrietta was sure that Louise only had two sisters, and Brimir would sooner rise up from the dead before the Karin would ever dabble in adultery. For two, the blue-haired mage was simply too… well, she wouldn't call her nice, but Trixie wasn't what she had in mind for a some shape shifting creature who would feast on your soul.
In fact, Henrietta couldn't help but compare her personality to Louise. Confident, prideful - too prideful, Henrietta couldn't help but add - and an underlying hint of naivete, and kindness.
Of course, Henrietta mused, she could be an actual foreigner. But what was the chance of that? That a foreigner would have a nearly identical look to her childhood best friend? Lower than she could ever count, Henrietta figured.
"Who knows," she gave Trixie a smile, pocketing the golden coin - Bits, she called it -into the pocket of her cloak. "Maybe we'll meet again," more likely than not, if she had any say about it. It would be horrible to have someone like her to die in a civil war.
Closing her eyes, Henrietta breathed through her nose before she turned back to the road - and froze when she saw the four leather-armored guards heading straight to her, Agnes leading them from the front. A vaguely apologetic expression on her face as the blonde musketeer making a beeline to her.
The crowd had parted at their arrival, forming a line on the sideline. Most of them watched in curiosity. She could hear the whispers spreading.
Henrietta grimaced, and grimaced even more when she looked to her side. Trixie straightened stiff, owlish eyes staring ahead. The girl looked like she was about to dash immediately - "Trixie, wait," the girl snapped her head to her. "They're safe, honest," she assured her, smiling. "Just let me talk to them, right?"
She nodded, stiffly. Before relaxing ever so slightly, eyes narrowing, and lips curling into a disdainful frown. She was quiet, for once.
Bad experience with authority or something else? The Princess wondered as she turned to Agnes, giving her the sternest look she could manage. Like that of a particularly disappointed mother. "Agnes, care to give an explanation?" she asked, tone low enough not to be overheard.
It worked like a charm as the blonde musketeer shifted in discomfort. Self-training made it look like she was anything but that. But Henrietta knew better. "My apologies, Princess," she lowered her head, before raising it, "but the palace was worried of your missing, and while I would normally heed your command, I feel it unwise to leave you alone with…" she trailed off, glancing down to Trixie.
Henrietta sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes. "Geez, Agnes, I could take care of myself perfectly well, thank you. Besides, Trixie is not whatever threat it is you're imagining," she added another eyeroll at that. "Right, Trixie?" her hand went to grab her shoulder -
Only for her hand to phase through.
There was a moment of silence in the street as Henrietta's mind did a double flip, and a horizontal somersault. Slowly, she blinked, and turned to her side. Trixie was still there, but she wasn't there. Her hand, supposedly on the stage magician's shoulder, was now inside her shoulder. Henrietta blinked again, feeling strangely calm. She turned back to her Agnes, an equally nonplussed expression on her face as the musketeer's calloused hand gently pulled Henrietta's hand away from Trixie. Or rather, Trixie's Illusion .
Some distant part of her mind recalled that she had never touched Trixie, and Trixie herself seemed hesitant to be touched. Did that mean -
No. Henrietta's free hand went to her pocket, felt around the golden coin that was gifted to her. Glanced at the etching of a winged Unicorn. So that meant that Trixie had always been with her in person, and was perhaps shy on physical contact. Which meant that Trixie had ran away upon the guards' arrival.
That was somewhat relieving. "Well then," Henrietta thusly surmised. The magic was strange, certainly new, though it wasn't a surprise anymore considering that the girl was a self-proclaimed foreign foreigner. Henrietta liked to think that it was some branch of Spirit Magic or the kind - heretical as that thought could lead to. Still, if Trixie hadn't lied, then she was going to Albion. When was the question. "Agnes," she called.
Her loyal musketeer had stood ready, gathered her own composure long before Henrietta finished her thought. "Yes, Princess?" the guards had spread by some unspoken command, searching through the crowd for a certain blue-haired Louise lookalike. If Agnes hadn't sensed it, then it was unlikely they would find Trixie.
"Could you spare a few of the musketeers, and post them around the city's entry to keep an eye on any sign of her leaving the city?"
It sounded like a request. It was anything but that. Agnes nodded readily. "Of course, Princess. Is there anything else?"
Henrietta thought about it for a moment. It came to her. She smiled. Yes, she could do that, couldn't she? "Her name's Trixie, and she's likely to head to Albion. If you could, please have one of the musketeers to follow her, and make sure she'd be safe,"
"It will be done,"
Henrietta giggled. "Thank you, Agnes. Apology if it could cause any trouble-"
"Princess Henrietta!"
Henrietta whirled around in surprise. Her mind catching, and recognizing the voice before her body could react. "Louise?" Agnes had already moved, standing in guard by her side, watching like a hawk as - yes, that was Louise approaching her. My, what a coincidence! "Louise!" her b. "What are you doing here?"
Louise paused. She was huffing, Henrietta noticed. A slight reddening on her cheeks. Part embarassment by the way her eyes glanced to Agnes, and partly from her question. She fidgeted. "Uhm, I was helping a Professor buying supplies for his class, Princess," she said, before curtseying.
It didn't fit her, Henrietta decided. "Louise, please, no need for that. We're friends, aren't we?"
The pink-haired girl flushed. "Uhm. Yes," she fidgeted. "Of course. But Princess, can I ask you a question?"
Henrietta giggled. "Of course,"
Then Louise pointed to her side. Or rather, to Trixie's illusion. "Can you tell me where it's going?" there was something in her eyes, Henrietta noticed, and she didn't miss the desperation in her voice.
The princess narrowed her eyes, frowning in concern. "What's the matter, Louise? And it? Do you know Trixie?"
"Well, I don't know its gender, so…" Louise trailed off, blinking. "And Trixie? That's its name? Wait!" Another flush on her cheeks as she shook her head. "Uhm. I think it - she's my Familiar,"
Henrietta blinked. Suddenly, all those theories about Trixie being a spy, or something or the other crashed, and crumbled. "Pardon?"
Louise ducked her head, as though trying to make her small. Well, smaller. "Uhm. Well, I haven't casted the Familiar Bond, yet, but yeah, I summoned her."
"Your human doppelganger?" Henrietta pondered aloud. She had remembered vaguely of a Human Familiar in some fairy tale, but one that looked nearly identical to the Summoner?
"No!" Louise almost shouted, before wincing. She shook her head furiously, head swivelling about. For a moment, Henrietta recalled that time when she had told Louise a dark secret. Only it looked as though the role had been switched. "She's a Unicorn, Princess," she said quietly. "One that's especially adept with Wind Magic." A pause. "Or Illusions, to be precise,"
"Ah," Henrietta stopped, and gazed into Trixie's Illusion. Illusion. And she wasn't human. That would explain why the girl was shy with physical contacts, and why she had always used that levitation magic of hers - or why her magic was different. The Princess liked to pride in her composure, but even this was a bit too much. This was something that you would to the Church. A Unicorn, of all things! A Myth whose only witness was Brimir himself! The symbol of Purity!
Not that she was going to do that. Involving the Church would mean involving Louise, and though she knew that it was inevitably due to the girl's heritage, Henrietta would like to avoid that for the time being.
"I see," the Princess nodded. Trixie was a Unicorn. Suddenly, the Louise lookalike had jumped up at her list of priorities.
Louise nodded, before she grimaced. Lips tightening. "You didn't answer my question, Princess Henrietta - do you know-"
"I think I do," Henrietta cut off gently. Louise rocked. Hope bloomed from the desperation in her eyes. In that moment, Henrietta found herself hesitating.
Then the answer escaped her lips.
()_()_()
Colbert clenched his fists. Something was smoldering inside him. Something foreign - something he had never expected to feel again. It was the same feeling he had felt long time ago. Reignited, and stronger twice as much.
"Professor, please allow me to go!" the girl had bowed deep.
It felt uncomfortable, being the recipient of such. But Colbert kept his composure strong. "No, Miss Valli - Louise. Albion is in the midst of a Rebellion, and discounting the fact that you still need to study, I will not let a student of mine to just die - "
"And is it any different if I stay, Professor?" there was bitterness in her eyes as she met his eyes, anger in her voice. Colbert almost flinched - a memory long buried resurfaced. A young man seeking to prove something to the world. Him. "I am a Failure as a Mage, Professor. A Zero, and don't you try saying otherwise; you know it to be truth. I know you have said that there are other ways to prove my worth as a Noble, then tell me how, Professor?"
Colbert was a wizened man. He had faced against the worst of Humanity. He was one of the worst of Humanity. He had experienced War, and Peace. He knew them like it was the back of his hand. Yet he couldn't rightly answer.
Her voice was quiet. Barely a whisper, yet it sounded like thunderclaps in his ears. "I can't fight. I can't cast spells. I am a third daughter. I am a spot of shame in my family history, Professor. My Mother is Karin of the Heavy Wind. Father was a great General of large renown. Eleanore, strict as she may be, is a succesful Triangle Mage teaching in Oriz Magic Academy. Cattleya herself, sickly though she is, is a capable Triangle Mage, while her affinity with animals are beyond incredible. While I, Professor? I'm nothing compared to them…"
He realized that there were tears leaking from her eyes. Hair shrouded her darkened expression as her shoulders shook. "So please, Professor. This is the only way I could prove myself,"
Colbert gnashed his teeth. Guilt, anger, and hatred coalescing together into one sickly beast. His stomach twisted, and turned. He had promised that he would always keep his composure - to leave his past, and never allowed to let it affect his judgement.
And yes, in the end, it was an error of judgement. The red baleful eyes of the Amulet stared back at him. He didn't know why he was holding it, but it felt fitting. Baleful eyes full of accusation. Condemnation, disdain, and disgust.
You sent a student to her death with pride. Do you feel proud now, Professor?
And he did. Sent his student to death, that is. It was a mistake. A slip of control of his emotion. A face of a young man from the past. Scouring around the world to find a way to prove himself. He had, and he regretted that action ever since.
She's going to die, and it's going to be your fault, Colbert. All your fault. Like always. Seems so familiar, doesn't it?
He had thought he had been able to keep that from resurfacing. He had thought wrong. He had never been this emotional, before. A dry chuckle escaped his lips. He supposed it wasn't going to be the first time he would be wrong.
Are you going to stay here? Doing nothing? What? Are you going to send another student to their death again? Repeat the same mistake over, and over?
His feet had already moved before his mind had registered it. The door of his room swung open, and the silent hallway welcomed him. He ignored it, and made his way. The sun was beginning to sink, casting a tinge of orange within the horizon, filtered through the windows. A leisure walk turned into a jog, and then a full-blown run as he neared his destination. The Headmaster's Office.
He had done a great mistake. Last time he had done so, he ran away. This time, he was going to fix it.
"C-Colbert?!" Osmond squawked, and jumped a good centimeters off his chair as Colbert slammed the door open. "You nearly gave me a heart-!"
"Osmond," he cut in sharply. Heart beating so hard, it may as well explode an artery or two. The surprise was still there, but the facade of a foolish old man slipped off. "I am finally requesting to use those accumulated vacation days," he hadn't counted how much it was he had accumulated, but it should be enough.
"Six months?!
Yeah, that should be more than enough.
Vaguely, Colbert recalled a saying he had often loved to say in the past. What was it again? He remembered.
In for a livre, in for an ecu.
The fact that this meant he wouldn't be the one writing the letter to the Valliere was a bonus.
Hah.
When was the last time he had felt this alive?
