The Garedion Conflict

Cygil rolled over, vision bleary as he cracked open his eyes. He shuddered, cold despite the blankets, pulling them tighter around himself. When the smell of pancakes wafted in from the door, he sniffed a couple times then hauled himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes until his vision had cleared.

The light poured in from the glass doors leading to the balcony, casting a long ray of sunlight across the room. In the far corner of the room he saw a tall assortment of shelves, filled to the brim with colourful books and apparatuses. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shivering as he set his feet down on the cold marble.

He strode across the room to the tall dresser where he had stored his habiliments the night prior, dressing out of his robe then throwing on his brown doublet first, then shimmying into his pants. Lastly he took the boots over to the edge of the bed and plunked down, pulling the arduous things over his feet and then wrestling with the laces. Finally, once all was done, he buttoned up his shirt and ran a comb across his mane. He double-checked himself in the mirror then nodded in satisfaction, heading over to the bookshelf.

There were several books of varying sizes and colour, and they all seemed to be arranged alphabetically by title from top to bottom. He supposed the books on genealogy would be somewhere near the top, and he would need a ladder to reach them.

He glanced around, but couldn't see anything he could use to reach. He tapped his foot and crossed his arms, then saw out of the corner of his eye a book with its pages already opened, sitting atop a small wooden desk.

Cygil sauntered over and turned to the book's cover, reading the embossed gold letters. A Canterlot Tale. Curiously, he flipped to the first page and read the first sentence. Long ago in the quondam times, afore the age of Celestia wherein the pony tribes travelled in great droves and had yet to settle, a flame was borne in the east... He blinked, then shook his head, returning the book to its former page.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Spike was humming a light tune as he balanced atop a stool, a couple of pancakes frying in the iron pan. He dug his spatula underneath, setting them aside on a plate. Cygil smirked, walking up silently behind him and crossing his arms. The dragon didn't seem to notice as he grabbed the box of pancake mix and poured it into the simmering pan. Cygil noticed that there was another plate, presumably for him.

After a moment had passed, Spike set the finished pancake on the plate and turned, still humming his tune – which was cut short with a yelp when he noticed the gargoyle standing above him. He stumbled, stool tottering as he swung his arms in an attempt to regain his balance. The spatula clattered to the floor as the stool toppled beneath him. He fell, though Cygil managed to catch him before he hit the ground. Cygil set him on the counter and smiled apologetically.

“Sheesh, you can't just go sneaking up on somepony like that!” he said as he dusted himself off.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Thought it would be funny.”

Spike glowered, but then gave a small smirk. “I guess it was a little funny – but don't make a habit of it, okay?”

The gargoyle nodded. “Sure thing. So what's for breakfast?”

After they had finished their pancakes, Cygil stood, brushed his doublet, then straightened his collar. “Do you happen to have any books on genealogy in this place?”

“Yes!” Spike replied eagerly. “We have all kinds of books, but...”

Cygil raised an eyebrow. “But?”

“Twilight's extremely possessive of her collection, especially since most of it was destroyed along with...well, you know.”
He pursed his lips and sighed. “I know. Well that's okay; I'll ask her about it when she gets back.”

Spike nodded with a smile. “Sounds good. So, what are you planning for today?”

“Well,” he said, “I'm planning on getting some better habiliments.”

Spike's brow scrunched up in confusion. “Habili-what now?”

Cygil rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Clothing; I'm afraid I'll need something a bit fancier than this.” He motioned to himself.
“Oh...” He paused. “I don't think you look that bad. But if you want you could head over to Rarity's – the Carousel Boutique – if you need some custom clothes. She's really good! Uhm, she's probably not home, though. She went with Twilight the other day.”

“All right,” came his reply. “Maybe I'll take a walk around town while she's gone, then.”

“Sounds good! Be safe out there.”

“What, you don't want to tag along?”

Spike sighed. “I would, but if Twilight got back and I wasn't here looking after the place she'd go beserk.” He blushed slightly. “Plus I should probably wash her sheets.”

“I was clothed.”

“I would hope so!” He bit his lip. “It's just a precaution; you know how she is – well, you don't, but I'm sure you can imagine.”
“Oh I can imagine, all right.” Cygil rolled his eyes. “Anyways, have fun whilst I'm gone.”

Spike shook his head, grinning furtively. “It's going to be a blast.”

He egressed from Twilight's castle, and outside the sky was lucid as Cygil perambulated towards town, some of the ponies greeting him as he passed – though most kept their distance. Before he left, Spike had given him a general description of the Carousel Boutique, and Cygil inferred that it wouldn't be too difficult to find. Surely enough, after a few minutes he saw the flag atop the spire, flapping lazily in the wind.

He rapped twice on the door, and a voice jubilantly called out “One minute!”

Cygil tucked his hands into his doublet's pockets, glancing around at the ponies ambling about. Though a paltry few cast suspicious glances his way, most simply ignored him and went on with their business.

The door opened, revealing a small white filly with purple hair. “Hello, and welcome t—AH!” The door slammed in his face and he heart a faint click. He sighed, then supposed he would have to get used to this.He knocked again, and when no answer came he shrugged. “Hello?”

“Who's there?” came a tremulous voice.

“Cygil.”

A pause. “The big scary gargoyle?”

He rolled his eyes, grinning to himself. “Veritably so. May I come in?”

“Why?”

“I require custom tailored clothes and I heard that this is the place.”

The door opened a sliver, and Sweetie Belle peeked one fearful eye out at him. “Rarity's not home right now.”

“Ah, Spike told me that might be the case; figured I'd check anyways.”

“You know Spike?” The door opened a smidge wider.

“Yeah, I'm staying at Twilight's castle for a bit while I do some research. I'm a genealogist.” He smiled at her.

“You're a genie!?” she exclaimed.

He chuckled. “Uh, no. A genealogist is a person who studies families and their histories.”

“Oh...” She scrunched up her face. “That's boring, but okay!” She flashed a grin at him. “Rarity should be back later. I'll tell her to expect you!”

Cygil smiled down at her. “Thank you. Farewell for now!”

“Bye!” She waved a hoof.

He sauntered away, racking his brain for things to occupy his time with. It was a bright day, and he supposed he could take a walk around town – maybe he'd pay a visit to the Cakes. He was considering forfeiting the mission and staying in Ponyville, if just for the cookies. Then again, that would probably mean Zygar sending others after him, and that was bound to end horribly.

Towards the centre of town he found the market, an open circular area with several vendors selling their wares. The smell of fresh fruit was ubiquitous, and he saw a group of ponies lined up at what appeared to be a lemonade stand. I suppose I could use a drink, he thought to himself, ambling over and getting in line. The pony in front of him turned and looked up at him, the visage of fear plastered on his face. “Greetings and salutations,” Cygil said amiably.

He gulped, but managed to feign a grin. “Hello!” He then brusquely returned his attention to the line of ponies in front of him.

Cygil shrugged, whistling a tune as he waited.

The line in front of him soon dissipated, and he found himself looking down at a bright pink pony with blue hair. She smiled up at him and waved. “Hello!” Juniper said. “Care for a glass of lemonade?”

“Sure.”

She set an already-made glass on the counter, plopping a few ice-cubes into the sunny liquid, then nudged it towards him. “Two bits, please.”

Cygil placed two golden thrysmas on the counter, and she looked at them quizically. “Sorry, I'm not from around here.”

“Oh! That's okay. I'm sure I can convert this if I bring it to a bank,” she said as Cygil took a sip of the lemonade.

“I should probably look into that; can't go around inconveniencing people, after all.”

She smiled at him. “I'm sure most ponies won't mind, but that's a good idea.”

“Erm...where is the Ponyville bank, by the way?”

“I'm not sure!” she said. “I'm new here, too. Though I'm certain if you ask around somepony will help.” Juniper paused and looked around the marketplace. Then she said: “You know what? I'm sure I could step away for a moment and we could go looking together.”

“Oh no, I couldn't ask you to do that.”

“I insist!” she said with a grin. “Besides, it's not every day you meet a gargoyle.”

He smiled at her warmly. “All right.”

They walked together, passing through the bustling town. A few birds flitted overhead, and Cygil found himself unusually happy – perhaps all the bright colours were getting to him. He turned to her as they moseyed along. “So how long have you been in Ponyville?” he enquired.

“Oh,” she began, pursing her lips, “it's been about a week.” She grinned at him. “You?”

“This is my second day.”

“Are you staying or just passing through?”

“The latter.” He chuckled. “Though I could be held up here for a while.”

Juniper caught the hoof of a passing pony, causing him to stop and glower at her. “Excuse me,” she said. “Do you know where the bank is?”

He sighed, pulling his hoof away from her. “Down this street and to your left; can't miss it.”

“Thank you.”

Cygil looked over his shoulder at the pony and smirked. “Where I come from that probably would have gotten us into a brawl.”

She smiled at him. “You'll find we're much more lenient here. Usually.” Cygil noted that she spoke the last word with a bit of tension.

Soon enough they found the bank, and they stopped to admire its purple marble pillars, holding up a roof with blue and white filigree above. They walked through the grand double-doors into a room with a red carpet sprawled across the floor, large paintings of noble ponies hanging from the walls. There was a glass chandelier suspended above, casting shimmering blades of light that pervaded the room. Ahead of them was a long black marble counter, and behind it were several ponies with cropped manes, quills scrawling over their ledgers.

Aside from Cygil and Juniper, there didn't seem to be any customers; though the tellers were as lively as ever. One waved them over, and the two of them strode up to her – a lanky yellow mare with purple eyes and a bright, gleaming smile. “Hello!” she said, reaching out and shaking Cygil's hand, then shaking hooves with Juniper. “How may I be of assistance today?”

“Well,” Cygil said, pulling open the laces on his satchel and placing four bags of coin on the table, “I'm going to require a conversion of currency.”

Juniper placed the two coins on the counter as well. “So am I.”

The clerk eyed the copious amounts of coin, then pulled out a book, flipping to a new page. “Thrysmas to bits, I'm presuming?”

“Yes – wait, how did you know?”

She grinned at him softly. “Well, gargoyles are a bit of a rare occurrence — but you’re hardly the first.” Her gaze trailed back to the bags in front of her. “Anyhow, what's your name?”

“It's Cygil,” he said, proceeding to spell it out.

“And I am Juniper.”

The nib of her quill scratched across the parchment, jotting down his name and then marking the date. “Coins per bag?”

“Fifty.”

“Fifty,” the teller repeated, clicking her tongue as she took further notes. “Okay, just a moment.” She folded the book and grabbed the coins, ambling off towards a tall door. She undid the latch then stepped inside.

Cygil determined this would be a good time to get to know his acquaintance better. “So June – if I may call you that – where do you come from?”

She giggled at him. “You may; also, I come from the north – it's a place you probably haven't heard of, and I suppose that's unimportant. My family...” She sighed, then shook her head with a grin. “Far too many siblings, and almost all of them cantankerous. I decided to get away for a while.”

“I understand,” Cygil said. “Sometimes the ones closest to you can upset you the most.”

“Now isn't that the truth?” Juniper grinned at him.

Cygil drummed his fingers on the counter-top, looking around at the room. One portrait in particular caught his attention. He nudged Juniper on the shoulder to grab her attention, pointing towards it. “Who's that?”

She squinted for a moment, then smiled. “That would be Princess Celestia,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Wow.” He scratched the fur on his chin. “What's with the mane?”

“Well it's always like that; it even blows in the wind – when there's no wind.”

He raised a brow, then laughed. “Good one.”

She frowned. “No, really.”

Cygil ceased his laughter, looking again at the image of the alicorn – almost glowing in the light of the sun. “Huh.”

“I know it sounds strange,” she assured him. “But I've seen it, myself.”

“You've met her?”

“Oh yes, well...” She bit her lip. “I saw her once, a couple of years ago.”

“Why didn't you ask her about it?” He chuckled, eyes filled with mirth.

“Hey, don't look at me,” she said with a laugh. “I was just there for the food, and of course the party.”

The door once again opened up, the clerk sashaying back to the desk. She set several bags of coin on the counter then pushed two lone bits towards Juniper, who thanked her and placed them in her pouch. “Will that be all for today?” she said with an amiable grin.

“Yes, thank you,” Cygil replied, setting the bags into his satchel and tying it shut.

“Have a nice day,” she said as the pair walked out.

“Likewise!” they replied in tandem.

They descended the steps outside of the bank, once more setting foot on the hard dirt ground of Ponyville. A few others walked past, and a lone pony pulled a wagon laden with vegetables in the offing.

“Thank you for accompanying me, June,” he said as he turned to her, a grin on his face.

She returned the smile. “No problem! Anyhow, I should probably get back to my lemonade stand.”

“Very good. Take care of yourself, Juniper.”

“Always have.” She chortled, then plodded off towards the market – her pink fur catching the sunlight.

For a few moments he stood there with his arms crossed, staring up at the cerulean sky. He wondered how Jas was doing, and then he wondered how in the world he was going to go about abducting a pony with no one else knowing about it. It was something that had to be done, eventually – though aside from Spark's shield he hadn't seen a great deal of magic – definitely not the abundance that Zygar was claiming there to be. If anything, most of these ponies seemed to be fairly ordinary – if you could call colourful talking horses 'ordinary'.

He was broken out of his reverie when a gray stallion with a slicked black mane shoved past him, nearly causing him to topple over. “Watch it!” the pony said as he kept walking.

“You could have gone around,” Cygil muttered under his breath, causing the stallion to stop in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder, glaring at the gargoyle.

“What was that?”

He smiled as wide as he could, shrugging innocuously. “I said that's a wonderful mane you have.”

The other grumbled and shook his head, then kept going. Cygil waited until he was long gone, then sighed, heading back into town and towards Sugarcube Corner.

Cygil swung the door open and ducked under the threshold. He shut it behind him, then found himself an empty table by the window and sat down, the few ponies that were in the shop casting him uneasy glances. Soon Mrs. Cake appeared at his side, smiling amicably at him. “Hello, dear,” her lilting voice came. “Have you come back for the cookies?”

He matched her smile with his own. “Perhaps a slice of cheesecake – and coffee, if you have it.”

“Can do! Anything else?”

Cygil pursed his lips. “Not today.”

He watched as she left, then caught sight of a pony across the room staring at him. Their eyes met, then, feeling as if he had just been slapped across the face by the sudden intrusion of privacy, diverted his eyes out the window where the throng of ponies walked on by without paying him any mind.

Mrs. Cake returned, a slice of creamy cheesecake drenched in chocolate syrup on a small plate. His eyes glazed over at the sight, his mouth watered – and in that one instant, the door flew open and collided with the wall, causing Mrs. Cake to yelp in surprise and stumble forward, the plate sliding off her head and splattering the cheesecake, and syrup, down his doublet. “Oh dear, sincerest apologies!”

He trembled slightly, noticing the brown streak trailing down his front and the smudge of white near his chest. “That's quite all right.”

Mr. Cake poked his head out of the kitchen door, but his wife simply waved him away, silently mouthing that everything was fine. He doffed his hat, then once more disappeared behind the doors.

She moved to grab the nearest towel, which was sitting atop a counter. Cygil held out his hand. “That'll just smear it,” he said, glancing towards the door. There, he saw a bright pink pony with a puffy mane staring at him, pupils the size of saucers. Cygil leaned down, picking up the plate – and the remains of cheesecake – and set it on the table. He stood and strode over to her, a scowl on his face. “You have cost me a doublet,” he growled, not bothering to hide his anger.

Mrs. Cake walked up beside him, smiling nervously up at Cygil. “Uhm, that would be Pinkie Pie,” she said, nudging him gently.

He looked at her, then returned his focus to the pony before him. “Ah, so you're the one I've heard about,” Cygil stated, trying to calm himself. If she was close to Twilight, he would have to do his best to make a decent first impression. He held out his hand. “The name's Cygil.” She continued to stare at him, mouth hanging slightly ajar. He thought he could see the faint glimmer of drool beginning to form on the corner of her lip. “Is she okay?” he said to Mrs. Cake, furrowing his brow.

“Don't worry, things like this tend to happen...”

Cygil waved his hand in front of her eyes, getting no reaction whatsoever. Then, after an inordinately long while, Pinkie Pie gasped for air and snapped back to her senses. She narrowed her eyes at him. “It's Pinkie Pie Party Planning Phase...pronto!” she said, bolting up the stairs, her hooves thumping on the rickety wooden steps and causing the neatly-stacked dishes on the shelves to shake and clatter.

Cygil turned back to Mrs. Cake, looking nonplussed. “Am I going to be okay?” he stammered.

Mrs. Cake tittered softly. “Oh, yes. It seems she wants to throw a party in celebration of your arrival.”

“Myarrival? She doesn't even know who I am.”

“Well, she does this for almost everypony. I imagine she might throw one for that new Juniper girl as well, but a gargoyle is a rare occurrence in our town...sort of.”

“Sort of?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ponyville is far from being the most quiet town on the map; we've had our fair share of—” She tried to think of a proper way to phrase it “—happenings. Anyhoo, you can't very well attend a party looking like that – again, my apologies.”

He sighed, but then smiled at her. “Wasn't your fault; I was on my way to Rarity's, anyways. She can probably fix this up for me, or make me a new one.”

“Oh, yes! She is very talented, I think you'll find – very generous, too. She is the Element of Generosity, after all!”
Cygil grinned at that. “Then I look forward to meeting her.”

Minutes later he stood once more outside the door of the Carousel Boutique, slightly miffed by the ponies that had chuckled at him and his sorry doublet as he was making his way hither. He took a deep breath, then knocked twice, patiently waiting for an answer. “I'll be right there!” a voice called out – a different voice this time.

The purple door opened, revealing a white mare with a styled purple mane. Her eyes were closed, and she was levitating a steaming cup of tea to her lips. She took a sip then sighed in content, smiled, then opened her eyes. “Greetings! Welcome to the Carous—” Her introduction was cut off by a shriek as she noticed who – or rather what – was standing before her. In an instant she flung her tea, the scalding hot liquid splashing in his face as the door slammed shut.

He stood there drenched, the hot tea running down his face and further tarnishing his doublet. He found himself shaking, teeth clenched, and his fists balled up so tight that his knuckles were turning white. Cygil turned and stormed off, a string of curses erupting from him as he made his way through a bewildered crowd of ponies, giving him a wide berth.

Inside the boutique, Sweetie Belle was yelling at her sister. “I told you to expect a visitor!” she said, glaring at the older mare.

“You didn't tell me he was a gargoyle!” she said, shaking her hoof in admonition.

The filly sat there, shrinking before her sister's anger. “I...didn't?”

“No!”

Sweetie turned her head away from her. “Oops.”

He didn't bother knocking afore shouldering his way through the tall crystal doors of the castle – didn't even so much as call out to announce himself as he trudged his way up the polished steps then down the vaulted hallway. He came to the door leading to Twilight's room, reached out for the golden knob and grasped it, no thought on his mind except getting into some fresh clothes.

“Cygil, I presume?”

Before thinking, his hand went to the hilt of his sword and he spun around, finding himself looking into the eyes of a tall lavender pony, her wings flattened against her sides – an alicorn. “Twilight Sparkle,” he managed to force through a smile.

She forced one of her own, feeling uneasy. Though Spike had told her a bit about the gargoyle and he had seemed decent enough, she couldn't help but remember Celestia's warning. Fire, bloodshed and death. Words that seemed more pertinent now, seeing this tall, boorish-looking beast reaching for his sword. She shivered involuntarily.

Twilight made a mental note to keep an extra close eye on this one. His presence might have been a total coincidence, having nothing to do with Celestia's premonitions – or it could have had everything to do with them. Either way, she wasn't about to let her guard down.

She scrutinised him from top to bottom, then decided to ask the obvious question. “What exactly are you doing outside of my room?”

Shit. He grinned even wider than before. “If you didn't notice, I need to get myself changed.”

That took her aback. “Your clothes are in my room?”

“...Yes?”

Twilight's expression fell, and she glared at him. “You slept in my room,” she said. It wasn't a question, but a cold, hard fact – one that Cygil couldn't deny.

He looked at her for a moment longer, then shrugged. He opened the door and walked inside, his footsteps clapping on the smooth marble beneath his feet. Twilight was right behind him – now beside him. “You slept in my room?!” She paused, then a more terrible realisation came to her. “YOU SLEPT IN MY BED!?”

Cygil waved his hand at her, as if dismissing a slight inconvenience.

She drew herself up in front of him, her face contorted in anger as she stared him down. “Do you have any idea as to the violation of privacy that is? You can't just go around sleeping in other pony's beds!”

He walked around her, making his way for the nightstand. She came around again, stopping him in his tracks. He drew a sharp breath, then sighed. “I don't have cooties, if that's what you're afraid of.”

She gawped at him for a moment. “You think this is about cooties?” she growled through clenched teeth. “This is about you sleeping in my bed!”

Cygil did his very best to smile at her, though he knew he wasn't fooling anyone. “Yes, well I'm not partial to sleeping on the floor.” That seemed to make her stop and think for a moment, which was all the time he needed to slip past and pull open the drawer containing his spare shirt. “Now if you'll excuse me I have to change.”

She looked at him uncertainly, then muttered something under her breath. She said, “Fine, but after that I want you out.”

“Don't worry, I won't set foot in here again.”

“Good.”

A moment of silence passed between them, then he nodded. “Good.”

She ambled towards the door, pulling it open with her magic. She looked over her shoulder one more time before shutting the door behind her.

Cygil set about pulling his bag of things from the drawer. He quickly undressed, pulling off his besmirched doublet and setting it on the table. There was a white cotton shirt with a frilled collar that he had been saving in case he needed it, which he figured was right about now.

After he had dressed, he donned his pendant and stuffed it into the front of his shirt, humming a tune as he grabbed hold of his bag and walked out the door. Twilight was in the middle of conversing with Spike when he reached the bottom of the stairs, the two of them seated by a round glass table. He coughed to get their attention. “How do I look?”

Spike whistled, then gave him a thumbs up. “Looking good!” he said with a wink.

Twilight merely scoffed at him. “Better now that you don't have cake smeared all over you – but not by much.”

He couldn't help but grin at that. “I'm hurt.”

There was an empty seat propped up against the wall. He carried it over, plopping himself down at the table. “Let's put all of this bed business behind us, shall we?” he said, holding out his hand. “I'm Cygil, as you know.”

Hesitantly, she placed her hoof in his grip and gave a light shake. “Twilight Sparkle, as you know.”

“She's also a princess!” Spike piped up.

“Not relevant,” she said, looking slightly annoyed.

“You can't keep downplaying your position, Twilight. He's from a foreign land; you're royalty – you've gotta represent the nation!”

Twilight glared at him briefly. “The last thing I wanted to do today is represent all of Equestria. I was just going to come home, enjoy a warm bath, do some reading, and go to sleep – but clearly that's not going to happen.”

“So you being a princess, am I supposed to kiss your hoof or something?” he said, deadpan expression on his face.

She rolled her eyes. “No. Next silly question.”

“Do you have any books on genealogy?”

Twilight paused for a moment, raising her brow. “Yes, actually. Why do you want to know?”

“He's a genealogist!” said Spike with a grin.

“I...see.” She gave him one glance, then said: “Let me see your notes.”

That surprised him, and hesitantly he reached for the papers he had stuffed into his satchel. “Of course.”

He slid them across the table, and she used her magic to levitate them up to her face – her lavender eyes mulling over the text. After a few seconds of reading she set them down on the table, sliding them back across with a strange look on her face.

“Something the matter?” Cygil enquired.

“No, nothing's the matter,” she said with a faint smile – though it was a dubious one at that.

“It'll be better once it's finished.”

“Mhm.” She turned towards Spike, who was in the process of twiddling his thumbs. “Can you get us some tea?”

“Absolutely!” he said, hopping off his seat and hurrying for the kitchen.

They sat there in silence for a couple of moments before Twilight spoke up. “So you're from Garedion, correct? Spike told me a little about you before you got here.”

“That's right,” he said with a nod. “The isle is referred to as Caledonnis. To the south is Garedion – and to the north is the land of the natives: Fwei.”

She looked at him quizically. “The natives?”

He made a faint gesticulation with his hand. “Hundreds upon hundreds of years ago my ancestors migrated across the Bitter Sea in search of better lands. When they arrived they found that great, wandering tribes inhabited the whole isle.” Cygil paused, considering his next words carefully. “Apparently there were some...disagreements. Most of the natives were driven back to the north, and the southern half was claimed in the name of the first king, whose name I can't seem to recall at the moment.” He looked up, noticing that Twilight had somehow produced a notebook and quill, and was busy scribbling away. After a moment she finished, looking him in the eye.

“So where'd the name 'Garedion' come from?”

“Well, the first king named it after Gared the Lion; he was apparently a great hero a thousand years prior – though don't quote me on that.”

She nodded, finishing her notes and poofing both the notebook and quill out of existence. He smiled at that, admiring the brief display of magic.

Soon Spike returned with three steaming cups of tea, setting them down on the table and climbing, albeit awkwardly, back into his seat. A knocking on the door caught their attention, and Twilight sighed and stood up from her seat, wondering who was possibly interrupting now.

Spike and Cygil looked up as Twilight returned, followed by a very embarrassed-looking Rarity. Cygil coughed lightly as she approached, sliding his tea away. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Spike had a slight blush to his cheeks. He couldn't help but smirk at that. Young love, eh?

She stepped up to the table, then smiled up at the gargoyle before her.

“Cygil...it's Cygil, right? I'd like to apologise for my demeanor back there; I realise it wasn't very polite of me, and I assure you I am not the sort to impetuously fling tea at potential customers – your appearance startled me, is all...” She trailed off, her gaze sidelong.

After a moment she snapped back to reality with a smile. “Anyhow, as I ruined your old garb I'm afraid I'll simply have to make you a new one!” She then levitated out a measuring tape. “Could you stand up, please?”

“Uh, sure.” He pushed his chair aside and got to his feet, standing up as straight as possible. It didn't take Rarity long to take his measurements, and when she was done she nodded curtly. “Very good, very good. I don't usually make clothes for gargoyles just so you know, but I am an expert after all! Now, what sort of clothing do you prefer?”

“Another doublet will do.”

She bit her lip. “Any specifics?”

“Black.”

Rarity stared at him for a second, then sighed. “Black it is.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No no, it's just a little drab is all.”

“Well I was going to wear this shirt underneath,” he said, motioning to himself.

“Oh, of course!” Her eyes sparkled, almost as if seeing it for the first time. “Some say frills are antiquated, but I find them simply exquisite. Yes, I imagine that'd go nicely with a black doublet.”

He smiled at her. “I'm glad you think so; let's just hope it's suitable for the party.”

Everyone looked at him as if he had just spoken some foreign tongue. “What party?” said Twilight.

“I ran into Pinkie.”

There was a pause, and then an expression crossed her face that sat somewhere between exhaustion and resignation. “Tonight?”

He smiled and offered a small shrug. “Tonight.”