MLP 30K: Rebel Dawn

“Okay, you can do this. We can do this! We got it, it'll be simple. The key, Sine, is to not panic. We're professionals, we've done these reports dozens of times. Nay, hundreds of times. Justdon'tpanic'kay?” Each word creeps higher up Clarion Call's impressive vocal register until her melodic trill rises to a squeaky babble.

“Fine.” Sine Wave sighs heavily, listening to the jangle and clatter of the earth mare's saddlebags. The pair trot up the wide marble staircase and into the shade cast by the courthouse's wide statue lined portico, the warmth of the fresh morning light whisked away by the shade.

It was a magnificent sight, first thing in the morning. Golden rays touch the warm grey stone, settling on the ancient features of pony magisters of ages long gone, while the faint breath of the breeze whisks across its well worn steps. Sunlight beats down in gossamer rays through the silver-touched clouds of early morning Canterlot, dappling the capital in islands of golden light and cool shadows.

Sine Wave takes in a breath and flares her nostrils as she picks up the heady scent of the wind scoured mountainside as it combs through her plum-hued coat. She almost wanted to stop, toss the sweaty pack from her back, and just lay out on the steps for a while. Canterlot.

Home again.

“it'll be fine, just let me do all the talking, Sine,” Clare's nervous twitter breaks the revelry of the regal quarter's sanctified quiet. “I am, like, the best at talking. I am the mistress of words!” Sine's pink friend-associate-colleague trots up a full pace behind her.

Aside from an annoying itch beneath the sweaty saddlebags on her haunch, Sine felt pretty good. It would be better if that mare would just shut the buck up for a second and not ruin the moment, but she was necessary.

Clare was still more suited to being the assistant than Cosine. Sine loved her sister, but she was totally useless in public. The filly would lock up at the thought of final exams, sweat profusely when questioned in class, so who knew what would happen if she was questioned by a board of professors... in a courthouse. Like some sort of common criminal.

Actually that was still a curious question too. Why had they been sent here instead of Canterlot University's campus? Still, nothing had really changed, so there shouldn't be much to worry about. And despite her blathering, Clare was right, they'd done this before.

“Justbuckingrelaxfilly!” Clare wheezes behind her, hoofsteps clattering ungainly as she climbs the broad steps while Sine's vision adjusts to the dark.

The warmth is swiftly stolen from her frame as they reach the top of the courthouse stairs and step between the massive stone columns holding up the elaborately carved overhang. Two gold-clad day guard stood on either side of the wide white oak doors that would lead them inside. The embossed brass solar sigil hanging above the courthouse passes with barely a glance, but Sine does catch the eye of one of the guards.

A flash of something almost indiscernible crosses his stoic face.

Pity? Regret? Worry?

Before she can nerve herself to pipe up, the stout Unicorn stallion quickly opens the door with a quick work of magic. Well, she hadn't caught his eye like that, no surprise. Not that she expected it but 'pity' was even worse... or was he looking at Clare?

Glancing back, the usually exuberant and sliiiiightly over-weight pink mare was sweating as they climbed the steps. It wasn't exertion, a little chub or not, the earth-mare was the one that usually switched out all the mechanical gear and did most of the heavy lifting.

The slight knocked-knees, the pinprick sized pupils in her usually bright magenta eyes, sprigs of curling hair popping out from the choral scrags of a matted mess charitably called a mane... okay so Clare might have been the centre of attention after all. The far-too-wide grin was probably just as unnerving, like the Maniac walking into the Manehatten exchange and-

No Sine. Bad pony.

Clare was rubbing off on her, and Cosine wasn't helping. Comics were for foals and mares still living in their father's basements. She was a grown mare with grown mare responsibili-

“This is just like the Maniac in Power Ponies One-Twenty-Seven!” Clare licks her lips, the warble being at least less deranged and more in awe as she stops halfway between the light and dark.

“Not. Now.” Sine hisses back, but nods her thanks to the guard and quickly trots inside. An accompanying echo follows a few moments later as the pale pink earth pony follows her in.

The trot through the open halls of the place of power was almost intimidating, but that little strand of worry was dwarfed by the sheer sense of awe as the world came into focus around her. The Canterlot Courthouse's striated grey and white veined marble was breathtaking, as was the oil portraits and ancient Articles of Unification placed behind glass in the wide open foyer. Sure, maybe Canterlot palace was grander, but the chance of her heading to Princess Celestia's throne room for some petition, or attending the Grand Galloping Gala, were about the same chances as her finding a stallion with a title to take her... about one in three million.

She'd done the math.

Wide vaulted halls polished to a white marble clatter and clop underhoof, making the sound of Clare's little science experiment in a satchel echo just as loudly in the absence of everything else. The courthouse wasn't quite empty, she saw a few office ponies in the foyer and quickly trotted up to the front desk to check in.

Plastering a smile across her somewhat severe features, Sine knew full well that the grimace she'd adopted from three and a half years as Clare's friend and touchstone for sanity had given her quite the glare by default.

The prim and proper sky blue Unicorn mare behind the gilded cherry wood reception desk, glances up through a pair of dainty frameless spectacles. “Good morning, ma'am. How may I help you?”

A quick tilt of the head had the mare catch sight of Clare as well. A little downturn at the corner of her muzzle said all it needed to.

“We're looking for the main high court room, Sine Wave and Clarion Call of the University of Canterlot.” seeing nothing but a blank blink on the mare's narrow face, Sine continues with a strained grin, “we're expected.”

For some reason.

A sharp glance down below the edge of the counter had her eyes drifting across a few notes before she smiles. “Ah, from the polytechnic delegation, right?”

Sine nods once in response, trying to keep the smile on her face. Smiling was hard.

“Alright, you're expected in courtroom one. Please sign here.” Levitating a sign-in form with a quill and ink pot, the office mare flashes a synthetic grin and waits. Sine quickly scrawls her name before looking back at Clare who was desperately staring off blankly into space. With a whistle and stamp of her hind hoof, Clare snaps her attention back to the desk.

After cocking her head none-too-subtly towards the paper, Clare shuffles forward to snatch the quill in her mouth and make her quick mechanical chicken-scratch mark. She quickly spits the quill out, putting a few ink blotches on the paper. Clare's wide-grin was just as synthetic as her own, but about ten times the size.

Dial it back, filly.

“Thank you. Now, these are your passes.” she quickly hoofs over two passes on lanyards, both of which designated them as visitors with thus under less scrutiny or seizure of their materials.

Not the first time that had happened. Actually it's how she met Clare in the first place.

With a sharp nod, Sine let her smile falter as the mare gave them a quick series of directions that were fairly easy to follow. Turning to the hallway, she lets out a breath and rubs the feeling back into her slightly sore cheeks. Nevertheless, between that, the sights of the aged Canterlotian landmark, and notably blotting out Clare's nervous rambling, eventually she realized she wasn't the only pony in the hall anymore. She'd meandered through the windowed sunlit gallery and past a few newsponies scribbling on notepads, before a creeping realization began to descend on her like a lingering fog bank.

“Um, Sine?” Clare's voice warbles as she clears her throat.

“Yeah?”

“Why are all these ponies outside our courtroom door?”

Every single one was gathered in the little vestibule of the high courts. “Probably something else going on in the second room, don't worry about it.” Sine mutters.

They went unnoticed for less than a minute, parting through the outer ring of ponies with cocked hats and camera frames.

“You're the two experts, eh?” a stallion's voice asks, so heavily accented with the Whinniapolis twang that it hurt.

A voice from behind her rattles unsteadily, “Y-yes?!”

“CLARE!”

She turns as dozens of others focus on them, and in that little lull the wide-eyed pink mare blathers, “sorrysorrysorryIpanicked!”

The door was thrown open in a sheet of cerulean magic and as the reporters descend on them like vultures. A barrage of jumbled questions assaulted her ears while the flickering flash of camera bulbs a few hooflengths away. The retinal searing light bursts in her eyes with the bloom of a solar flare, sending the Unicorn mare reeling back in a disoriented stagger towards the door. She holds one of them open, only to hear a distinctly familiar worried warble and nicker. The fat-rumped mare speeding past her nearly bowls the Unicorn over in her haste to disappear from the crowd. Sine follows, staggering into the darkness, blinded by the white spots from dozens of flashbulb slowly fading from her watering eyes.

Wobbling inside, Sine tries to shut the door only to find it had already been barred. But the awkward stagger sends her forward through the vestibule. The sound of her own misaligned hoofsteps mingle with the nervous staccato trot of her friend a few paces in front of her. Her shoulder brushes against the wooden panelingl, and she careens sharply away with a muttered, “Sorry”, before she registered she had apologized to the wall.

A few blinks and a hoof rubbing at her burning eyes, didn't help to clear her vision at all. Sine still saw darkne-nope, not darkness. She was staring at the pink and choral coloured blob that was probably her earth pony friend, right near the center of an illuminated round.

“Ah, miss Wave, miss Call. I thank you for joining us today.” A disembodied, but oh-so-cultured Canterlotian voice echoes from on high, like some angel. “The court would like to thank you for your assistance on this matter.”

“O-of course.” Sine says, swallowing hard. She had notes, she had prep... and she couldn't see a blasted thing. “happy to be here.”

After taking a dozen flashbulbs to the face at point-blank range, she felt she had to fish out that fake smile. But Sine tries, the grin a lop-sided smirk probably closer to misplaced confidence than the open-thankfulness that she had meant it to be.

“Now,” another stallion starts.

Celestia, a panel of stallions? Two of three wasn't bad. Actually, now that the thought passed through her brain, that was bucking terrifying. There was only one stallion in her University's higher administration that appeared at these kinds of hearings.

“We are going to be asking a series of questions, both related and seemingly unrelated, to your tasks-”

She recognized the clipped, sharp tone of the headmaster himself. Neighsay. She'd changed her major from Theumatology to polytechnic to get away from his Tartarus damned classes!

“But they hold a great deal of importance over other matters going forward. Do you understand?”

No

“Yes.” she replies dutifully as Clare merely seems to nod with an uncertain chirp that had to pass for affirmation.

Neighsay's stern voice calls again, “Is that understood, miss Call?”

“Yas?” The mare squeaks uncertainly.

Looking to the blur that she was ninety five percent sure was her friend, Sine steps forward and pats her withers. Of course, the contact makes her jolt, but Sine just whispers, “Think there's a seat just out-”

“Miss Wave, do you have all the material at hoof for a full presentation of your findings?” A mare asks, the smooth and chipper tone brilliantly familiar.

She couldn't be seen, not in the ring of darkness that surrounded them, but the matronly tone of the elder pegasus couldn't help but pluck the most genuine smile from Sine Wave. Professor Baryon, “Aunt Bee”. The Polytechnical and Theoretical physics prof is still unseen but the smile still spreads across her muzzle.

“Absolutely.” the nervousness all but falls from her withers as her aged pegasus prof's chuckle breaks the relative discomfort.

“Well then, Miss Wave.” The Pegasus's sharp, clipped voice held that mirthful edge. “Would you kindly illuminate us?”

“We will be making special note of your recent findings, however.” Neighsay interjects, his sharp unflinching tone suppressing some of the comfortably fuzzy feelings.

But, with a hoof gesture to Clare, Sine lapses into her old routine. It wasn't really so different from standing up in front of the black board after all. “The original experimentation proposed by Miss Call and myself was part of a theoretical experiment. It supposed that the ether around Equus, and even past the moon, is not a dead stillness, but matter or psuedo-matter made up of waves like a great ocean.”

Ignoring a few scoffs, the Unicorn mare nods to a still shaking Clarion Call, snatching a few rolled up charts and graphs from her saddle bags and levitating them up behind her. “The project suggested that, if the area around us is some super-fluid then we would see radiating wave activity. If it's a void, then perhaps there may be other forms of either thaumotological or non-kinetic energy that could be registered.”

“But what are you measuring? Why would there be any movement at all?” Neighsay's sharp tone indicated more than just disbelief, rather, a spiteful snort of contempt.

“We figured we could perhaps listen, see, or measure cosmological events such as comets and meteors, or perhaps even the auroras.” Sine replied, stuffing a crinkled graph back in Clare's saddlebag. “Which, we in fact, did find evidence of. But they were some sort of-” Sine Wave blinks, part of her mind quickly blanking.

“Electromagnetic wave, rather than the expected theumotological wave.” Clare picks up, realizes she spoke, and lapses back into silence.

But it was enough to get a smile from Sine. For all of Clare's exuberance in private, this wasn't remotely unusual. “Correct, and Clarion Call's supposition was that, perhaps, if these waves could be detected, we could create instruments to measure even more kinds of signals, waves, and thus record them on mediums, then catalog them as different phenomena. So, the San Palamino observatory was created and funded for our experiment.”

As she looks up into the darkness, the more cultured Canterlotian stallion's voice re-emerges. “Perhaps you could take us through what you hoped to achieve, and your methods. Not all of us are as scientifically gifted on the council, so we'd appreciate some small words if you'd be so kind.” the slight touch of self depreciation got a faint chuckle from the gallery.

It was about then that Sine actually realized, it wasn't just three other ponies in the room. There might have been more. Her ears flick as she hears shuffling from both sides.

There could be a lot more. It might not even just be a three-pony panel.

Horse apples, what did I get myself into?

“C-certainly...”

“-Which goes onto the spooling reel after having passed under this magnetized portion, called a head, that aligns and imprints the signal onto the ferro-oxide strip of film. Which, of course, can be stored indefinitely, then re-read or re-recorded for future listening, kay?”

The perky earth-mare grins up into the darkness, the flickering pictographic 'film reel' fluttering in the background as the twin spools of sound and picture rolled around behind the projector.

Luna stares from her spot in the gallery, peering through the darkness at the grinning mare. Her photographic projector was an amazing contrivance, more so than even the gramophone. It had, evidently, made the projects earliest years profitable enough for the University to fund the ludicrous-seeming research. And it had started more than a year prior to her return.

Clarion Call smiles up at the 'board', the five ponies staring down with the glow of the lamps illuminating documents or items that had been passed to them from the two science-ponies. Sine Wave had been more interesting to her, having explained the funding and methods, but the technology and enthusiasm from the once-frozen Clarion Call had captured the board.

Aside from the granite face of Neighsay.

Luna had watched him out of the corner of her eye, seeing the stallion move only when asking questions or to inspect the devices offered up by the duo of University grad students.

“So you recorded more than one of these perspective messages?” Neighsay says again, staring at a blank roll of magnetic tape.

Clarion Call vigorously bobs her head, “Uh-huh! Lots. We have nine reels, and only kiiiiinda stopped when we ran out. But we got some more stuff made-”

“Purchased out of satchel?” Professor B said more as a reminder than anything else, directing the notice to Neighsay to remind him that they'd be cutting a check for a few bits by the end of the day.

“Uh-huh!” Clare grins even more broadly, “I mean, how could we not? This is genuinely amazing, true proof of alien life!”

And the silence that echoes in the chamber, if short lived, hangs for a moment. Then dies as scores of ponies all around Luna gasp and mutter among themselves despite a warning glare from Fancy Pants. A glare nearly unseen in the relative gloom.

She catches little instances, 'she can't be serious', 'mad science filly', and a dozen other dismissive or incredulous babbles. But the Princess of the Night keeps quiet, secure in her disguise and trying not to ruffle her feathers. The shapeshifting spell made the absent, disguised wings on her back itch abhorrently. The Unicorn, 'Moonlight', had wormed her way into the court to silently watch the panel.

A few bangs from a gavel restores some semblance of order, but Luna knew it had been leading up to this. The pair had danced around what the recording 'was' for almost an hour.

Moment of truth.

“Alien life?” Neighsay replies, as if timed. “How could you prove it's not just something picked up from the other side of Equestria? We do fund dozens of research projects every semester.”

Clarion Call scoffs, “First of all, it doesn't sound like anything from Equestria.”

Naysay shoots back quickly, “And can I assume that linguistics are not your field of expertise, miss Call?”

The sharp glare was as demanding as could be, and the mare withers under Neighsay's hooded glower. “W-well no... I mean, I'm good at it and know half a dozen languages...” she gulps again, “But this doesn't sound-”

“So, what would you say tipped you off to suggest that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this is non-Equestrian in origin? Or, for that matter, not from our world?” despite the impersonal sharpness, Luna recognized that this was Neighsay's opening.

He... fed them that question.

'What are you playing at?'

Why was Neighsay of all ponies, feeding them more solid opportunities? He'd been nothing but skeptical of Luna and the Lumin gate, condescending, even dismissive. And this was obviously a related hearing. Luna's cyan eyes narrow as she stares hard at the unblinking chancellor.

“We didn't track signal refraction like that. It should, if the numbers are right...” she glances back at Sine Wave and grins, “And they are. If the numbers are right, this came from a short duration, but massive burst of electro-magnetic energy. It had a thaumatological carrier signal which had to be mostly detangled, but we got this.”

With a theatrical wave of Clarion Call's hoof, Sine Wave more sedately replaced the existing demonstration reel, placed it back in its protective canister, and carefully took out the marked length of tape from another black iron drum. It did leave Clare standing awkward for the better part of a minute while the material was fed into the machine.

But most of that was forgotten the moment the voice played like a flat-deadened hum from the twin speakers set up next to the push chart housing the tape canisters and boxy projector. The voice was low, flat, distorted, and grainy, like some creature from the ocean depths.

'et vocem meam audire contempsit et de edicto Nikea. Quod autem adtinet Lupercal additional suas inquietari implicat, atque immediata et verificationem de, rogatur. Ave Emperator, Ave Russ.'

Sine hits a toggle and the projector falls silent. Not a single voice replaces the sudden silence.

Luna had heard the tone, if not the language. It was passed through a grill, a false mouth, boomed through caverns and rasped on soot choked fields of fire and ash.

The voice was the flat metallic tone of an astartes legionnaire.

Clarion call looks up, the faint rays of hope clear on her face. “Now that's gotta be intelligent, and it's gotta mean something. It's the first recording we made, then cleaned up to be as clear as possible.”

Again, it was Neighsay's almost fragile whisper that breaks the uncomfortable silence of a stunned courtroom, “And when was this?”

Clarion Call smiles, almost shaking from nervous anticipation compared to the others. “Fruicember twenty-first. Five twenty-two in the evening.”

The silent Alicorn's mind quickly picked out the time. The date. And evidently, so did Neighsay as he glances down at a small notepad and scribbles down a few notes. Scrunching his muzzle a bit, the stallion hides the little nod fairly well, but not well enough to escape Luna's notice.

Her own teeth started to grind as he replies, “And the other recordings?”

Clarion Call answers almost before the question was out of the chancellor's mouth, “Fruicember twenty-third, twenty-fifth, twenty-seventh, and every two days since without interruption. All at the same time, starting at exactly five twenty-two in the evening. It is a distinct pattern. But we, well, ran out of tapes and had to commission some more to be made, but this has been constant. Now that we know what we're looking for, it's easy to detect. The voice does appear to be the exact same, with identical intonations-”

“And you have sent the tapes for linguistic analysis?”

“Yes,” Clarion Call and Sine Wave both say at the same time. And seeing Clarion call's eager glance back, the later let her continue with a little waggle of a hoof that says 'go ahead'. “While we couldn't get a Unicorn to use a spell for a translation on the tapes, and they weren't in the observatory, or after the signal had been desynchronized, they did do some work on it.”

“And do tell, what was the results?” Fancy Pants asks on cue after clearing his throat.

Clarion Call beams while Sine Wave fetches a stack of papers in a manila folder to hold up in the air. A court clerk quickly ferries them back under the watch of Luna. The disguise who carefully scoots closer and closer to the court bench, taking advantage of the blank faced ponies staring enraptured by the duo of mares.

“They said,” Clare takes a shaky breath, “while it has some minor cadence similarities to Old Ponish and pre-Equestrian dialects of Pegasopolis in particular, there is no similar word order. The words themselves don't match any known language grouping inside, or to their knowledge, outside Equestria. But it's also too structured to be made up gibberish, and the head of the Equestrian Language Arts department wanted to further study our findings.” The pink mare was grinning madly, rising up and down on her hooftips to bleed off some of the excitement. Even then, her voice rises as shivers ripple along her coat like waves from the sea. “They said they wanted to discuss further cooperation on the alien language!”

“I can confirm the request from Doctor Glot of the Los Pegasus research foundation.” The last mostly quiet Unicorn mare of the council replies. Marian Grey quickly passes a slip of parchment across the bench to the court clerk in her rose-hued magic.

“And for the record,” Neighsay interjects, “This has happened more than once, and recently, Miss Call?”

“Yes! LOTS!”

After her squealed shout, Clare merely hops up and down, still beaming until Sine Wave reaches over to press a hoof to her withers in an attempt to keep her grounded. She then continues, “Like I said, we have nine reels that are deciphered.”

Professor Baryon smiles after giving stealing a glance at Neighsay and Miss Grey in particular, “And you are receiving enough equipment and funds to continue your current research?”

Seeing that the work was on the cusp of continuing, Clare takes a sharp breath “Y-”

A hoof clamps down over her muzzle with a muffled 'merp' sound. “An application for additional funds to commission better recording equipment as well as cover additional expenses, such as our trip here, is currently awaiting submission.” She quickly whispers something to Clare before removing her hoof. It's a gap only long enough for the Unicorn to rummage in her satchel, then produce a professional looking letterhead. She flaps it a few times in the air with her magic, prompting a scurry of hooves from the court clerk stallion as he scrambles to quickly collect it.

Fancy Pants is swiftly passed a note from Neighsay, shooting the stalwart stallion a quizzical glance asking for explanation. Chancellor Neighsay says nothing, pressing his forehooves together and leaning on the bar overlooking the court floor.

“Miss Wave,” Fancy Pants starts, evidently surprised by the little interruption. “would you say that in your informed opinion what would be your educated guess about the importance of your discovery?” Fancy Pants concludes.

“It represents a potential paradigm shift in multiple fields of research, and our understanding of the universe.” Sine Wave replies with faux-calm. A little hiccup as she swallows hard at the end betrays her nervousness despite the facade of detached professionalism.

“And what pony would believe such a thing?” Neighsay replies more skeptically, staring stone-faced with his chin on his forehooves.

Sine Wave and Clarion Call both freeze, as if frozen by the sudden reversal.

He'd fed them opportunity to prove themselves, then yanked it back when it seemed to be related to her mirror gate. The dates... it started on the same day a she'd opened the Lumin mirror.

'He knows it's related. He'll shut it down.'

Luna moves, quick as a shadow she slips behind the three rows of seated ponies to emerge near to the solar guard. In a quick flash of cyan light, her 'appropriated' form melts back into the taller, more elegant shape of her Alicorn self. The guard stiffens, wide-eyed at the sudden movement before Luna quietly hisses, “Move.”

“W-why would anypony not believe us?” Clarion Call pipes up from beside Sine Wave, the plum coated mare shooting her friend a sharp 'be quiet' glare.

“I'm s-sorry ma'am,” The guard stammers, “I can't let you interrupt proceedings.”

“Because the notion of something so unfathomably otherworldly would be completely and utterly ridiculous. Especially, without far more solid evidence of the contrary.” Neighsay replies, getting a snort of irritation from the Pegasus opposite him.

“Move or I shall move thee, guardspony.” Luna hisses at the stallion, peering pass the glamours on the armor and seeing the worried green eyes. She presses her eight and advantage, all but feeling the shock as she looms over him, the exchange all but completely unnoticed in the shadows.

“I'm s-s-sorr-” The guard stammers, and is swiftly brushed aside by a wall of telekenetic force.

“Because,” continues Neighsay, “The concept of other-worldly intelligent life is utterly anathema to the common ponies of Equestria. It lies without the realm of a foal's fiction book, and not reality. And they would request us to stop funneling funds to such patently ridiculous projects without sufficient evidence. I table the motion to suspend further funding of the San Palamino observation project, currently under Canterlot University's purview, until a full review can be launched into the validity and value of the project, or its affect on other programs.”

Clarion Call's ears drop as she stiffens, the hope and enthusiasm draining in an instant at the dismissive summation.

“Liege Mayor.” Luna's sharp call snaps the attention to her, including the glance from Neighsay and Fancy Pants. “We formally petition the court to desist and adjourn. Verily, we must consult with Our sister about the potential import of the information now presented to Us.”

“Princess Luna,” Fancy Pants says amid the sudden jolt of surprised voices threatening to turn the whole proceedings into chaos. “This is highly unorthodox and very much beyond proper protocol. If you would, your majesty-”

“Then we extend formal royal privilege.” Luna says, blank faced as she approaches the side of the judicial bench, with the mob of ponies swiftly turning to look at her. “We shall not allow something of such magnitude to go neglected, just because it is uncomfortable for Our subjects to accept.”

The scratch of notepads, the warble of voices and even a strange gulp at the word 'subjects' fills what few gaps remain.

Neighsay only mutters, “this is hardly helping your case. And this, likewise, remains outside your consideration.”

“Damn your case and consideration.” Luna hisses sharply, taking a step forward towards the bench.

Fancy Pants quickly seizes a gavel and slams it down with a thunderous bang. “The hearings are in recess for fifteen minutes, clear the courtroom! Princess Luna.” the indignant heat in the liege mayor's words weren't even thinly veiled, “A word, if I may.”