The Pawn Who Would Be Queen

After being temporarily delayed due to weather, specifically that brought on by the Discord Crisis, the Global Series was finally ready to get underway. The air in Lone Star's capital city was warmer than Orzel had grown accustomed to in the frigid mountain city of Canterlot, and she found herself far more comfortable as a result. It was, much to her dismay, still an incredibly dry heat... What she'd seen of the city so far struck her as not only welcoming, but patriotic to an almost religious extent. They hadn't gone a single block without seeing at least a half dozen fluttering Equestrian flags, accompanied by an equal number of Lone Star provincial flags. A field of diagonal red and blue stripes, above which was situated single large white star.

What struck Orzel most of all wasn't the flags or the environmental warmth, rather it was the warmth of the people. Thousands of them had turned out, lining the route from station to stadium, waving fluttering banners and holding signs... Most were welcoming Orzel's Mother or Aunt Celestia, but a fair number had also gone out of their way to welcome the young Princess as well. She'd become so used to people ignoring or criticizing her that the simple act of greeting her, acknowledging her presence in a positive light, was deeply touching. A blunt and unexpected reminder that these people were her people. No matter how the rest of the day went, regardless of whomever won the game that day, she would remember that drive more than anything else.

It wasn't long before they'd arrived at the stadium, even then Orzel found herself enthralled. She had to force herself to maintain focus as she and her family quietly made their way towards the Royal Viewing Box. The path they'd taken was not one open to the public, and it had afforded her an opportunity to observe the numerous steel buttresses, I-Beams, and countless strange devices that made the thrumming stadium live. The building was sturdy, that was for sure, not unlike the arena in Cesarski... Granted, she'd never actually been able to see much of anything at the Arena. She'd been able to hear the roar of the crowd, feel the vibrations of the seats, but as with so many things... Life had been a blur.

The cheering of the stadium's crowd reverberated in Orzel's chest, only occasionally overcome by the bellowing calls of eager vendors going about the stands. 'Peanuts! Hot dogs! Ice cold beer!'... Again, not all that different from the vendors at the Cesarski arena. The sheer volume of it all was a little intimidating, and Orzel had needed a moment or two to gather her composure, as for a few brief moments she could've sworn she'd been hearing panicked screams rather than cheers. She was able to shake it off and continue on to the Royal Viewing Box, which she was told more resembled a private dining area than anything else.

They would have arrived sooner, if both Orzel and Mister Piercing Gaze hadn't stopped to admire every bit of industrial machinery that they came across. She'd been told the stadium itself had cost millions of Bits to build, a figure Orzel believed by the sheer amount of mechanical wonder's she'd seen so far. The most fascinating of them all had been the elevator, a device that Orzel had heard of, but never actually used. With it, they had ascended through the stadium's towering form in a matter of moments, eventually stopping at about the middle of the structure. The only members of her family not present, much to Orzel's dismay, were her Cousins Blueblood and Cadence.

The former had declined to come on account of having already made plans with someone, a woman whom he'd described as 'elegantly bucolic', whatever that meant... Cadence, conversely, was staying behind to see to the running of the country. She wasn't particularly a fan of Baseball, though Orzel had suspicions there was another reason she'd wanted to remain behind. The cleaning staff had a habit of gossiping while they worked, and Orzel had heard there was likely something between her cousin and Celestia's 'Captain of the Guard'. The girl frowned slightly at that, Shining Armor was a man whom Orzel didn't see eye to eye with, at least in their few encounters... He respected her as he did all Princesses, but it was obvious he was still suspicious of her Mother, and her, by extension. Why Cadence had chosen him...? Orzel could hardly guess.

Making their way through a well lit hallway towards the Royal Viewing Box, the powerful PA speakers mounted throughout the outer stands crackled to life, though the words were muffled beyond discernability by the crowd. Orzel's eyes turned to her Mother, as well as the man that had monopolized a great deal of Luna's time over the past few days. He now sported a pair of spectacles of his own... Granted, his lenses weren't nearly as thick, and he'd opted for metal frames as opposed to obviously superior tortoiseshell. His clothes were a bit more relaxed today, perhaps a tad too casual for Orzel's taste. Like so many people she'd seen throughout the excursion, he additionally wore a black baseball cap, bearing a white platter-like helmet embroidered at its front.

While Orzel had dressed more casually than she ever had for a public outing, the conditioned fear of reprisal still lingered in her mind. A simple beige button down blouse, accompanied by a floor length gray-blue skirt, which helped to hide an added novelty, a pair of shoes fittingly called 'sneakers'. They were comfortable shoes, not nearly as versatile as her beloved steel toed work boots, but better ventilated and thus more suited to the warmer climate. As per usual she'd tied her hair back beneath a crimson headscarf, a task that was slightly more complex considering it'd grown down to the middle of her back, requiring the addition of a snood to keep everything better in place.

She'd not noticed before on account of her scarves, but as with the addition of her fangs and voracious appetite, her hair was starting to change... It was taking on an almost metallic texture, naturally highlighted by streaks of green, like that of an old copper statue. Not only did her hair now look like metal, it was also starting to take on numerous attributes of metal... The Princess had attempted to cut a sample for examination under a microscope, only to find that scissors proved insufficient, and so she was forced to resort to tin snips. This had proved fruitless as well, as the sample looked more or less identical to normal hair upon closer inspection.

Luna assured her there was nothing to worry about, it was just another emerging trait brought on by her Elemental Transformation. Between a loss in height, the jutting fangs, insatiable appetite, and now changing hair, Orzel had to wonder just when the discovery of new 'traits' would end. Odds were they wouldn't, not until she wound up looking like the 'Future Her' from her meditations...

The girl shook her head, clasping her hands behind her back and putting up a front of stoic calm as she appraised her family further. Luna and Celestia were casually dressed, both in similar fashion, and the trio of Princesses had all foregone their crowns for the day, with both elder Princesses donning ball caps of their own. Celestia was apparently a bit of a 'Wildfires' fan, while Luna wore the same 'Roughnecks' cap as her suitor. Orzel, for her part, had opted to forgo a cap altogether. The headscarf did an adequate job keeping the sun out of her eyes.

"We must first wait for them to announce us..." Luna explained to both Piercing and Orzel as the group halted near the entrance to the Royal Viewing Box, sunlight streaming through a pair of windows set within the doors themselves. It cast remarkable beams of light through the dusty air, vaguely reminding Orzel of her visit to the Lexican Temple. Briefly she thought how lucky she'd been to manage attending another service prior to departing Canterlot to witness the looming Global Series. Seeker Topaz went a little light on the chanting, replacing them with more lyrical choral hymns, but overall it'd been a pleasant experience.

Orzel could see the wide open diamond more clearly, at least if she stood on the tips of her toes to peer through the window proper. Immediately beyond the door was a familiar pair of hulking figures, standing at attention, flanking either side of the passageway. Grim and Fable had preceded them, diligently adorned in their dress uniforms. The two were likewise joined by a pair of smaller men, dressed in red jackets and black trousers, wearing towering bearskin hats. Under normal circumstances Orzel imagined they'd all be baking in the heavy woolen garments, but they showed no sign of it. Likely on account of one of the many other fantastic inventions Orzel had seen today... Her first 'Air Conditioner'. She'd made a note that whatever building she acquired for her workshop would need to be able to support one of the devices, as maintaining a steady humidity and temperature would be vital to ensuring proper test results.

"Are you certain you want to attend?" Luna asked in Szafirian, frowning faintly, as she apparently picked up on her daughter's hesitance to look at either her or Piercing. Orzel nodded, quietly clasping her hands behind her back, still refraining from meeting their eyes. This unfortunately didn't go unnoticed by either party, and the two glanced at one another uncertainly. "The train is well stocked with Enchanting supplies, if you would rather study..." Luna must've truly been concerned to suggest such a thing, especially considering the last time Orzel had practiced her enchanting on the train.

"It is too late for me to return, regardless of if I want to or not..." Orzel mumbled in her native tongue, glancing between Luna and Piercing. "I suppose I am just... Uncomfortable." It was more than the unpleasant thought that the stranger might be keeping an eye on her. No, the primary reason she was uneasy with Piercing's presence was how it seemed to be changing Luna as well...

The unbreakable, implacable, exacting woman with a will of Iron was 'lighter', less 'severe', the opposite of many aspects Orzel had grown adept at emulating. While she still remained serious, there was an unspoken cheerfulness underlying it all... Not that cheerfulness was a bad thing, it was just... Different. Orzel personally considered an over abundance of cheerfulness to be a precursor to naivete, and that was just a few short steps from ignorance. Luna considered the girl's words, then she took on that same understanding compassionate look that had comforted Orzel countless times. At least that hadn't changed.

"It is nothing time will not mend..." Orzel offered quickly, tucking her hands into her pockets and eying the doors. It seemed that was enough to assuage Luna's concerns for the moment, as she made no further comment on the matter. The PA speaker outside once again crackled to life, and now that they were near the door, Orzel could make out the scratchy announcer's voice.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we here at Wildcat Park ask you to rise and join us in welcoming to the Royal Viewing Box, their Majesties, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and her Highness, Crown Princess Orzel..." The man's voice thundered, deep and heavy, and yet filled with exuberant energy. The crowd gradually fell silent, and from somewhere outside Orzel heard the familiar call of heralding trumpets. A few moments later, the heralding trumpets blared, leading into the tune of 'Faust Save The Queen'.

Orzel pondered the implications of the song for a moment... In theory, when she assumed the throne, she could very well take the title of Queen. There wasn't any law that stated she had to remain a Princess, just the tradition of Equestria's sovereigns opting not to change their title. It'd likely get very confusing if there were a bunch of Princesses as well. It was tempting... So very, very tempting... She quickly shook her head, not only was she getting ahead of herself, she was also allowing her desire for more to override her better judgment. She'd cross the 'title bridge' when she came to it, for now Crown Princess was more than sufficient.

Grim and Fable dutifully opened the doors as the song began in earnest, and Orzel had to admit she felt a tad under dressed considering the fanfare. Celestia stepped out into the sunlit viewing box first, and as expected was greeted by cheering adulation of a sort Orzel wasn't accustomed to hearing. Luna and Orzel stepped out next, with the former walking arm in arm with Piercing. To Orzel's utter amazement, the roaring cheers became louder and louder. Piercing stood off to the side as ten thousand voices, perhaps even fifteen thousand, all erupted as one to welcome her Aunt, her Mother, and her... Once again she was profoundly humbled, and for a second time she suspected that she'd remember this more than any play made during the game.

Orzel wordlessly joined her Mother and Aunt in approaching the railing of the roomy and well appointed viewing box. There were several comfortable looking chairs, providing an excellent view of the field from above and behind second plate. The rest of the chamber contained a small buffet, a bar, several couches, a radio, a series of clocks set to differing timezones, and more pieces of Baseball memorabilia than one could shake a bat at. All paled in comparison to the expansive sea of people that filled the rows of seats that flanked either side of the Royal Viewing area.

There wasn't an empty seat in the entirety of Wildcat Park, and even the buildings viewable beyond the boundaries of the the stadium had their rooftops and windows filled with eager spectators. The center of everyone's attention was the diamond, crisp white lines and verdant grass, all laid out beneath the wide open Lone Star sky. The air was heavy with the smell of cooking hotdogs, smoldering tobacco, and a myriad of different beers. Eager throngs chattered loudly throughout, all waiting with anticipation for the players to take the field.

Celestia and Luna commenced to waving to the crowd, her Aunt smiling widely while her Mother displayed an atypical warm grin. Orzel allowed a faint smile of her own, so as not to appear ungrateful for the welcome, though her 'royal wave' was far more reserved. She doubted much of the cheering was on her behalf alone, she had done little of note aside from the christening of ESS Sokol and her recent stint in the Nocturnal Court... Then again, she was told that Lone Star was deep Black Crown territory, and if that were so then her detention of Jet Set and Upper Crust had to have made papers here. She tried not to linger on the implications presented by her most noteworthy act thus far being to arrest to of her detractors, even if they had come into her home and insulted her.

Odds were she'd become more of a fixture in the Nocturnal Court, considering that Luna and Piercing were spending more and more time together. The girl doubted the people of Lone Star really cared about that sort of thing. She found that even considering what her Mother and Piercing were likely doing sent a chill down her spine, and prompted her to almost throw up in her mouth... Realistically, the less Orzel thought about Piercing and her Mother 'catching up', the better...

Even so, looking at her Mother's smiling face, Orzel briefly considered what might be becoming of the woman that'd taken her in. Would Luna become as cheerful and nearly naive as Aunt Celestia, would she stop pressing so strongly to better defend Equestria...? Luna deserved to be happy, no one believed that more than Orzel, but... If her reunion with Piercing Gaze caused her focus on the nation's protection to slacken, then it would fall upon Orzel to become the nation's new 'Protector'.

The crisis brought on by Piercing's arrival had been modest enough to moderate, thankfully. There were injuries, no serious casualties, but what about the next one? What happened when the next 'Chaos Wave' hit, or a massive wildfire broke out somewhere, or a plague swept across the land...? What if they were invaded? These were all things that'd happened in the Empire, things that could've been prepared for, but only the last was ever given thought... All that military spending, all that focus on military defense, but what about the people... These cheering people, the people welcoming her as their future sovereign.

As she stood there waving to the crowd, it occurred to her that in all her readings on Equestria's governmental bodies, not once had the topic come up. There were volumes on army and navy strategies, but not so much as a pamphlet or even a cocktail napkin on the topic of 'Civil Defense'. She was guilty of it herself, devoting her focus to the design of her body armor and other devices for the military... If there'd been some plan of action in place in Cesarski, perhaps not so many people might've died... Maybe Sokol would've survived the trip to Equestria... Maybe... Maybe she wouldn't have died in her daughter's arms.

Orzel's smile melted away as she set her jaw, her eyes blazing behind her spectacles as she remembered vividly the sensation of Sokol's final breath, and all that warm blood... So much blood... The girl resolved once again to herself, just as she had during the Chaos Wave, that she would never, ever, allow such a day to come pass again. There would be no more children orphaned as she had been, no more unstoppable destruction or unchecked chaos, not without a significant amount of resistance... If Equestria was to go down, it would go down fighting, and if Luna's will of iron had been weakened by Piercing's return...? Well, Orzel would take up the cause as her own...

Gradually the music came to an end and the trio of Princesses stepped back from the railing, now listening intently as the announcer declared that the game would start, just as soon as the National Anthem was sung. On the field below, Orzel observed a contingent of men in the dress uniforms representing the whole of Equestria's armed forces marching out onto the field. Several carried rifles, while others bore a series of standards. At the head of the contingent, held highest aloft, fluttered the Equestrian flag. Behind that was a white field, depicting an eight pointed sun, then came a third a blue field with a white crescent moon... Obviously these were the standards of Celestia and Luna respectively, but a third fluttered not far behind Luna's that Orzel suspected was a very new addition.

Unlike the previous two, carried by an Equestrian Regular and a Lunar Marine respectively, the third was carried by a sailor. The flag was almost identical to that of the Equestrian naval jack, consisting of a series of horizontal blue and white stripes, which in and of itself reminded Orzel of the telnyashkas worn by her Father and other men in the Imperial Navy. Where this flag differed was that at its center, emblazoned with remarkably shiny fabric of some kind, resided the increasingly familiar 'Bronze Dragon' emblem of Orzel's crown...

To many people, Orzel included, flags were more than just colorful fabric. They were symbols, symbols that told the world where one stood, and this symbol seemed to speak quite loudly. Orzel hadn't even known a flag had been made to represent her at all, there hadn't even been mention of it possibly happening. The crowd certainly seemed on board with the display, and Orzel was left feeling quite unsure of herself. Such things normally just... Didn't happen. That the color guard had thought to include her meant a lot, but that she was being represented by Equestria's Navy, a branch with which she felt a considerable connection...? She couldn't put into words the joy that gave her. Of course, she also suspected it was probably Celestia's doing, but the gesture was nonetheless well received.

A woman, whom the announcer identified as a singer known as 'Songbird Serenade', met the color guard at center field. Orzel pondered that for a moment... On the topic of symbols, she'd always found the naming conventions of Equestria were oddly... Specific. The country's name itself, Equestria, wasn't such a mystery to decipher. In the Pre-Equestrian era and beyond, the three tribes that initially founded the country made extensive use of horse cavalry and mounted archers. Horses thus pervaded nearly every facet of daily life, the nation was known widely as 'The land of the horse soldiers', and so the name 'Equestria' took hold. Even today, Equestria's Army still made use of horse cavalry, primarily patrolling the nation's borders and frontiers... Though, 'Mechanized Infantry', 'Armored Cavalry', and other vehicles such as fixed wing aircraft were likely to replace them.

The girl quietly sighed, pushing her headscarf back while the other stadium goers removed their hats. Not long after, the singer began a rendition of 'Equestria, the Gem of the Ocean'. A hush fell once more across the crowd as Miss Serenade, little more than a yellow and black figure from Orzel's vantage point, carried on in a manner that Orzel could best describe as 'Modern'... Taking liberties with certain notes, extending others. The woman reached the nearly final verse, and by this point almost the entire stadium was singing along.

As Serenade was singing the words 'the Army and Navy forever', Orzel was pleasantly surprised to see a formation of airplanes rumble overhead, perhaps only a few hundred feet above the stadium. She could recognize each different plane, primarily by its silhouette. Five L-86 Manticore biplanes, boxy looking single engine fighters, flew at the head of the 'Delta' Formation. A trio of SB-71 'Citadel' Strategic Bombers thundered along behind them, their quartets of radial engines thundering, their fuselages bristling with machine guns. They were monoplanes, constructed from aluminum and painted olive drab like the other Army aircraft, with a single ball turret visible on the belly and one mounted dorsally.

The last trio of aircraft in the flight appeared to also be Manticores, but this was where Orzel relied on their silhouettes. The N-86 'Sea Hare' had slightly canted wings that attached to the aircraft's body at a pair of hinges... It also had a tail hook for carrier landings and, unlike the Army aircraft, was painted a powdery blue, with an off-white underbelly, their tails displaying the familiar blue and white stripes of the naval jack. As the aircraft thundered out of view and the song came to an end, Orzel found herself growing more intrigued by the presence of the N-86s than she was by the game about to begin. She took a seat beside her Mother and her Aunt, but her eyes remained fixed on the horizon.

Monoplanes from other countries were quickly beginning to outperform the biplanes employed by the Army, and Orzel suspected they would soon seek a bid for a domestic monoplane fighter of their own. The Navy would undoubtedly get stuck modifying the L-86s already in service with the Army when, inevitably, the Army replaced it with a monoplane. It would be a simple matter of adding the hinges that would allow the wings to fold back, making it ideal for storage aboard an Aircraft Carrier... Of course, that'd be the only thing 'ideal' about it.

The N-86 was a fine aircraft when it had first been developed, a response to the keel laying of ESS Sokol a few years prior to Orzel's arrival in Equestria. Performance reports indicated it was remarkably stable in a dive, and its biplane nature afforded it a high degree of maneuverability in mock dogfights... Of course, that wouldn't mean much when one realized the N-86, like the L-86, had exactly one .30 caliber machine-gun... The DAC would likely decline the Navy's request for its own monoplane, citing its 'surplus' of 'perfectly good aircraft'. The Navy wouldn't fight the issue because, save a few odd Admirals, they were still almost slavishly devoted to the 'Cult of Big Guns'. They weren't alone in that fact. The Army Air Corps was also almost as criminally under appreciated as Naval Aviation, they just generally had better funding, at least comparatively speaking... Perhaps they'd be better off as their own branch? Now there was an idea for later...

For now Orzel had to focus on the Navy, specifically the disposition of its new Carrier. She'd recently received a letter from Captain Maelstrom. The future commander of ESS Sokol was getting the runaround from the Admiralty... Again. The ship's engineering plant was being delayed due to 'budget restrictions', which, thanks to Celestia, Orzel already knew to be a load of bull-... Bilge water. What was more, several officers deemed vital to the proper operation of the Navy's first Aircraft Carrier had been reassigned, without Maelstrom's knowledge or consent. That irked Orzel, more than it likely should have. Perhaps the fact that the ship in question bore the name of her Birth Mother had something to do with it, or maybe she was just sick and tired of what now seemed to be malicious interference on the part of the senior Naval staff.

The risk of an internal power struggle within the Navy, Equestria's most widely deployed branch of the Armed Forces, also might've played a role. She'd speak to her Mother about it after the game, of course, but doubted that it would do much good. Even if Luna wasn't going soft, as Orzel feared, the woman had used much of her political clout just to get the Navy to actually accept delivery of the ship. As Orzel had no political clout to speak of, she'd need to find more... Creative methods of getting the point about Naval Aviation's permanency across. Just another thing to add to the pile issues and problems forming on her proverbial desk.

The girl shook her head and tried to focus on the baseball diamond, restoring her headscarf back to its previous position as the others replaced their caps. From the center of the diamond, the ceremonial first pitch was thrown, and with a fearsome rumbling voice that could be heard clear over the eager spectators, there came the umpire's gravelly cry. "Plaaaay baaall!."

With another thundering cheer from the crowd, the game started in earnest. The Roughnecks were first at bat, and their first batter strode to the plate with a confidence she'd seen matched only by the Royal Guard. Orzel did her best to remain interested, she honestly wanted to become a fan of 'Equestria's Pastime', but once again her mind was consumed with a whirlwind of thoughts. So many new problems, and so many possible solutions, not a single one of them easy...

Orzel recalled ESS Sokol launch, the leviathan of steel trundling down the slipway, then fighting against the waiting tugs, eager to take the fight to all her foes. As the ship's sponsor, it was Orzel's duty to see its well being, to fight for its future... The carrier would never be ready for sea if Orzel didn't fight for her. Sorting out the Admiralty would be her first order of business upon returning to Canterlot, even before looking into her workshop prospects. She doubted Mother would be pleased afterwards, but the limits of Orzel's power were currently ill defined, and Orzel was counting on that to lessen any backlash. It was easier to apologize than ask permission, and the girl doubted her powers would remain so ambiguous for much longer, best to make use of that card while she had it. Even in the Empire, sometimes the Admiralty needed a little kick in the brass...

Orzel chuckled faintly at the pun, though the sound went unheard beneath the din of the crowd. There was a crack from home plate that rippled through the air like a rifle shot, drawing Orzel from her thoughts just in time to watch the bright white and red baseball sailing up... And up... And... Backwards? A sudden gasp rose from the spectators as both they and Orzel realized the ball was hurtling straight at the Royal Viewing Box, straight at her head. Wincing inwardly in anticipation, as she knew it was coming far too fast to escape, the teen prepared for the inevitable 'Are you alright?' from her Mother. Ultimately she doubted it would do little more than bounce off her forehead, she was a Dragon after all... At worst, it might damage her glasses. With that in mind she didn't allow the coming impact to so much as illicit a cringe, as might've been the case 'Pre-Piercing Gaze'. To all those watching, of which she was sure there were many, the hurtling horsehide may as well have been a passing leaf.

Suddenly Orzel's view was obstructed by a catcher's mitt... No, it was a hand, an incredibly massive hand, which caught the popped foul ball from the air with the ease one would pluck a ripened apple from a tree. Orzel glanced to the right, tracing the hand to the blue woolen sleeve of Grim's dress uniform. The behemoth bodyguard held the baseball between his thumb and index finger like a grape, which he then gently placed in Orzel's palm. His face displayed no sign of discomfort, or any emotion at all... She knew he had to be feeling something, judging by the baseball sized welt taking shape in his palm... It must've really been moving. Examining the baseball in her hand, she nodded cordially at Grim.

"A fine catch, Mister Grim." Orzel nodded in appreciation, to which the monolithic sentinel gave a slight bow before wordlessly sliding back to his post beside the door. The girl glanced down at the baseball, then at Celestia, Luna, and Piercing. The trio seemed stunned, both by the fact she'd almost been whacked in the face by a foul ball, and that she hadn't shrunk away... What was she supposed to do? There were thousands of people, and all were watching for her reaction. It simply wouldn't do to cower from such a paltry threat, especially if she was to build an image of strength and command. "I am quite alright." She added further, experimentally tossing the baseball up and down in her palm.

The player that had hit the ball was looking up at the Royal Viewing Box, obviously mortified. His white uniform and the black batter's helmet identified him as a Roughneck, Number 27, a pegasus fellow by the name of 'Crackerjack'. Orzel was familiar enough with both teams to know this man was actually a fairly well known player, though she was also aware he had a tendency to 'hit or miss'. It seemed that when he hit, he hit. Perhaps she wouldn't have been so fine after all, had the ball found its mark... Not pausing to ponder just what fluke of physics had instigated the strange fly ball, Orzel instead decided to assuage his apparent nervousness.

"Do not stop your game on my account..." She called down to him, then paused, looking once again at the ball. "Though, perhaps adjust your aim?" The girl added with the faintest smile she could allow, which thankfully had the intended effect dissipating Crackerjack's mortification.

To her surprise, Orzel heard a good portion of the crowd nearby chuckle. It had only been intended as a means of assuring the man that there were no hard feelings... The girl might not have been the biggest baseball fan in Canterlot, yet, but she didn't want something like an unintended foul ball to throw off the player's 'groove'. Crackerjack tipped his helmet, his golden wings fluttering in obvious relief, before turning back to face the pitcher's mound. With a confidant stance, apparently taking Orzel's words to heart, he pointed out to left field...

"Not again... He can't possibly do it again..." Orzel heard Celestia mutter quietly, as her family was likewise getting back into the game. The girl had her eyes fixed on the pitcher for the Wildfires, a fairly powerfully built Earth-Walker going by the name of 'Bazooka'. This time Orzel had little trouble focusing on the game, as unlikely as it may have been, she couldn't help worrying history would repeat itself. Crackerjack choked up on his bat, the polished maple surface glinting in the sunlight, while Bazooka wound up for the pitch. A blur of white erupted from his coiled arm, sailing over the infield, curving slightly... Before twisting back in to sail right over home plate.

"Strike two!" The Umpire declared as Crackerjack stepped back from the plate, apparently fearful the pitch might've hit him. Orzel studied the rest of the diamond a bit more closely, there was a runner on first, must've missed that play, and the Wildfires in the outfield seemed particularly antsy. Bazooka caught the ball hurled back by the catcher, straightening his bright orange cap. He shook his head, shook his head a second time, then finally nodded... Orzel found herself on the edge of her seat as Bazooka wound up again, and time came to a crawl when the ball went sailing out of the man's hand. Meanwhile, barreling through the air like an enraged bull, Crackerjack's shining polished cudgel surged forth to meet the coming pitch. It was going to be close...

'Kra-crack!' Ball and bat collided with a tumultuous rippling crack, resulting in a blindingly fast blur of white leather flew out to left field like a cannon ball.... Right where Crackerjack pointed, Orzel realized. It sailed up... Up... Up... Well over the heads of the outfielders, still rising higher and higher, until ultimately it went sailing over the field's back wall, whereupon it was caught by a fellow watching from one of the adjacent rooftops... Needless to say, the crowd went wild.

"...here's wind up... And the pitch!" The radio announcer declared in a scratchy voice. There was a muffled crack of wood, followed by uproarious cheering in the background. "Crackerjack hits it out to left field... It's going... Going... Gone! A home run! Roughnecks lead by two at the top of the first inning!" The voice had become strikingly familiar to Princess Cadence, primarily because as far as sports were concerned, her beloved Shining Armor was a baseball fiend. Whenever the post season came along, she'd find the announcer on the radio any time the two drove together, ate together, or were generally just... Together... To a point that Cadence had to put her foot down as far as having the radio on in the bedroom.

As things were, the two had both completed their daily duties early, and had thus decided to spend it together on the town. They didn't have a destination in mind at present, as the musical they planned to see that evening wasn't set to begin for a few hours... After the game. Of course, the walk included stopping every few blocks whenever they found a small cluster of people gathered around an electronic's store or car radio. While not the largest sports fan in general, Cadence was rooting for the Wildfires, seeing as this was their first Global Series in nearly a decade.

A gust of wind suddenly blew a cluster of leaves along the sidewalk the two stood upon, briefly causing Cadence to shiver as frigid autumn air bit against her cheeks. She instinctively tucked her hands into the pockets of her pink wool coat, her scarf and hair fluttering like the many Equestrian flags hanging from a nearby Police Precinct. The woman yelped slightly her as blue beret, considered the height of fashion at present, was nearly carried away from her head. It was snatched from the air by the lightning reflexes of the well built, and ever courteous, Shining Armor. He stood at her side, his chiseled jaw set, his piercing eyes glittering despite the overcast day. The man wore an olive drab peacoat and coyote brown wool knit cap, far better suited to staying on one's head than her own choice of headgear now that Cadence thought about it. The Princess sighed, fashion was such a fickle thing...

"Thanks, Shiny..." She said, taking the hat and placing it back on her head, her magic flaring in her palms to make it a tad more snug. The announcer was still going at it, but Shining seemed satisfied with the latest report. He didn't seem pleased that the Roughnecks were up by two, and so early in the game no less, but nonetheless was impressed at Crackerjack's play. The man put his arm around Cadence's shoulder as they resumed their walk. "I love Canterlot in autumn, it's... Magnificent..." She added, looking towards the rather spacious 'Statesman Park' to their immediate left, appearing even more so now considering how the numerous trees lining the park's exterior were bare of leaves. By now they'd managed to spread the colorful little specks of russet and crimson in all directions... It wouldn't be long before the first snow fell.

"It's certainly something." Shining said, donning a wry smile as he cocked his head towards her. "Not as magnificent as you, of course." Cadence couldn't suppress a snort, and playfully she smacked the man's side. It wasn't his most creative response, but they couldn't all be zingers. As she recalled, cheesy lines had always been a fixture in his arsenal of courtship, primarily because Cadence couldn't help laughing at them. That was fine with her, she liked to laugh. "Tell me about your day... Blueblood had that 'other arrangement', so how'd it feel running the whole country on your own?" Cadence shrugged, pondering just how describe the odd mixture of boredom and anxiety that came with sitting on the throne.

"I had a few petitioners, and a few minor political brush fires to put out, but mercifully I think everybody's too preoccupied with the game." Cadence finally settled with a shrug, leaning her head against Shining's shoulder. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, he was taller than her, but Shining just had a way of making her feel safe... Cadence knew that he would protect her, as he would anyone, but that didn't diminish the warm sense of safety his mere presence ensured. "It wasn't as bad as when Celestia and Luna were indisposed, thankfully..." She trailed off. "Honestly, if Equestria was a little smaller I don't think I would've minded it so much, but the throne isn't really for me..." Cadence admitted more softly as the pair passed by a bakery, a sign in the front window proclaiming 'Closed For The Game'. "Can you imagine me? Leading an entire country?" Shining evidently didn't agree with her incredulous tone.

"You'd be great at it, better than I could ever be." The man protested, his eyes filled with honest admiration. Cadence looked at Shining skeptically, which caught the man apparently by surprise.

Sure, she could get by when it came to diplomacy and, as recently evidenced, housing reform. Aside from that, and her brief stint serving beside her Cousin during the recent Chaos Wave crisis, Cadence had never felt comfortable with the idea of ruling a country. Shining was far better suited for general leadership, at least in her view. He was the Captain of the Canterlot Royal Guard, one of the most prestigious units in the Equestrian Military. Tens of thousands of soldiers, officers and enlisted alike, sought to join the CRG... Only a handful ever managed to succeed, they were the best of the best, the cream of the cream, and Shining was the man overseeing them all.

"Why do you think Celestia hasn't named me 'Heir to the Solar Throne'?" Cadence began, before holding up a hand. "Not that I want the title, because I don't... It was one of the conditions of me becoming a Princess, you know?" Shining stopped walking and stared at her, stunned, apparently he didn't know... Great. Sniffling slightly from the cold, Cadence tugged him along, hoping to explain as they went. "If I have to, in an emergency, I can hold my own, but it's not a job I'd want for the rest of my life. I can do the fancy wave, I can chat with nobles and dignitaries, and I can certainly dress the part, but..." Cadence conceded finally, glancing down at herself, a slight frown tugging at her lips. "You and I know there's more to being in charge than any of that... First and foremost, you have to want to be in charge. That means taking responsibility for everything and everyone under your reign, and that's... That's just not me. Not now, at any rate..." Shining looked thoughtful, then nodded solemnly.

"I understand..." He stated gently as the two once more walked side by side, his eyes briefly darting upwards as a distant droning horn sounded somewhere in the city. Cadence recognized it as belonging to an airship, likely an arriving cruise vessel. Like the leaves falling from the trees, that sound would gradually become less common as Autumn turned to Winter, and the echoing baritone drone sounded fittingly mournful and lonely. No longer interested in the unseen airship, Shining draped his arm once again around Cadence's shoulders. "Even so, I think you'd do an excellent job, if you ever changed your mind." Shining's voice was filled with sincerity. "Sorry, I'm not so good with this emotional 'big picture' stuff..." He added self consciously.

"Now it's my turn to say you're better than you think." Cadence responded, hugging the man as tightly as she could, nearly toppling him over. "You might not know all the words to express what you feel, but you've got a good heart... Face it, Shiny! You're a big softy." He'd likely attribute it to the cold, but Cadence cold tell the flush that reddened his cheeks was from embarrassment. "Don't worry, I won't tell any of your friends." He kissed her forehead as the two resumed their journey.

"I love you." Shining declared, setting Cadence's heart a'flutter. It wasn't the first time he'd said those words, not even close, but it may as well have been as far as Cadence was concerned. With a growing smile, the woman laced her fingers with Shining's, squeezing his hand four times... It was a little ritual they'd developed when they were still in high school, her way of saying 'I love you too' when she had been unable speak to Shining, as she'd been so flustered and shy at the time. He smiled back at her, obviously understanding the gesture, and in companionable silence they continued down the leaf strewn sidewalk...

After fifteen minutes or so they came across a newsstand, illuminated by strings of light bulbs that glowed a warm golden hue. It was a small structure, more of a glorified shed than anything else, painted forest green and flanked on all sides by tables laden with countless issues of over a dozen different publications. Newspapers, magazines, comic books, even pulp science fiction novels. Despite this vast array of literature, few of those huddled around the structure seemed interested in the daily headlines or even the latest edition of 'The Adventures of Squadron Zero!'. No, this small cluster of people so tightly bundled up for warmth, stood transfixed upon something within the stand itself. The sound was indistinct at this range, but Cadence could tell by the tempo of the speaker the crowd was listening intently to the game.

The couple came to a stop once again, as Shining undoubtedly wanted to hear more of the game. He pushed himself into the crowd, evidently intrigued by the radio in the newsstand. Cadence was still interested, but couldn't keep from examining the various. The papers mostly focused on the latest national headlines... Senior Councilman Spindletop was retiring, and this had inspired other 'Short Timers' to take the same course. With fewer positions to fill following Bill 250, the race to win control of the various newly opened seats had kicked off exceptionally fast. Politics was much more present in her mind than baseball, and she was more drawn to a newspaper depicting the men and women eager to fill said vacant Council seats...

In the running for Lone Star Province was a Mister Longhorn, one of Spindletop's aides, and his 'chosen successor'. He'd be going up against a more experienced politician, Governor Candy Gram, who'd been in the business of public service for longer than Longhorn had been alive... Despite this, Longhorn was the odds on favorite, even having never run for public office before. Gram had aligned himself with the Noble Party during the recent 'Decency Demand Crisis', which had ultimately lead to Bill 250's passage and the formation of the Black Crown Party. Both sides doubted the Governor would last long, as Lone Star was rapidly becoming a Black Crown stronghold. Cadence didn't know the Governor personally, but his involvement in the DDC hadn't won him any favors...

She'd seen the aftermath of the National Council's meddling first hand, having come to know her Cousin Orzel much better. Calm as the girl might've been able to appear to the common person, Cadence could read the deliberately implacable teenager like a book. The girl harbored an awful seething grudge against the National Council, on a level far deeper than perhaps even Orzel was aware... Add to that her extremely volatile Draconic temper and the lingering grief of her Parents' deaths... Orzel wouldn't take it out on the Council directly, Cadence knew that, the girl cared far too much about Equestria to do something so petty... Hopefully. More likely, and worryingly, Cadence suspected the repressed emotion would eventually find another outlet, though perhaps 'target' was the better word.

Her cousin had been on the verge of potentially transforming into a full blown dragon, the sort that leveled city blocks, threw trains like toys, and proved almost impossible to subdue. This outcome was stopped only by Cadence's swift intervention. That brief contact, as the woman was administering the arcane sedative, revealed that they'd just been mere seconds from disaster. Orzel was growing to better control her temper, or at least she wasn't as much at risk of transforming any more, but... Churning inexorably out of view, the well of wrath perpetually bubbled and boiled, waiting to be unleashed. Just the brief mental contact with that cauldron of caustic choler told Cadence that the National Council had been exceptionally lucky. They'd managed to get away with taunting the dragon in its cave... For now... Woe betide that first unfortunate soul to actually provoke the dragon hidden within that diminutive frame to fully leave its den.

Peering more intently at one of the newspapers, Cadence ruminated grimly on the topic of hate and fury. If the race for the Lone Star seat was an almost slam dunk, the race for Canterlot's newly opened seat would be the governmental equivalent of a full contact, no holds barred, cage fight to the death. An unmitigated grudge match, in perhaps a very literal sense. Her Cousin Blueblood had only that afternoon announced his intention to throw his hat into the ring, an unprecedented act for a member of the Crown. His announcement had come following Olympus Solare's own bid for the seat, and no one was quite sure who would win, or who would prove to be the lesser of two evils. It wasn't clear if such a thing was even legal, not that Blueblood cared.

"...Wildfires are down by four at the bottom of the first, bases are loaded, two outs..." The Announcer said, drawing Cadence from her thoughts. Apparently the Roughnecks had edged out another couple runs before the bottom of the inning, and by comparison the Wildfires seemed to be floundering... Already Cadence could tell this was going to be a 'barn burner', as Shining called them. Peering into the newsstand, Cadence was stunned to see a large mahogany box, inset with two dials and a fuzzy, black and white screen... One of those newfangled 'televisions'. "Striding to the plate, it's... It's Clutch Fencebuster!"

Cadence saw the black and white figure of a prodigiously powerful looking man stride confidently towards the plate, bat slung over his shoulder like a rifle, waving casually to the stands. This man was thousands of miles away, yet here she was, watching him like she was actually there. Even in a world of magic, that technological ability impressed her greatly... The crowd of onlookers visibly lurched closer to the television, and at their urging the stand owner increased the volume. Clutch Fencebuster was one of the greatest sluggers in Modern Baseball, just one of the many legendary players currently engaged in the contest of sport in that southern province so far away.

"Fireballer's looking for a pitch she likes... Here comes the wind up... And the pitch!" There was a brief lull from the announcer, then Cadence watched a faint white dot come screaming over center plate like a meteor. Clutch swung for the fences, nearly twisting himself entirely around. "Swung on and missed... One and Oh."

"He'll pull it off..." Shining said softly, tucking his hands into his pockets as another gust of wind fluttered the various papers and magazines, a handful of dull red bricks kept them from taking flight like so many leaves. The announcer continued to rattle off what was happening, not that it was necessary... Another pitch came streaking in, a strike, the next pitch was a ball. "Come on..." The tension was staggering, Cadence found herself leaning against Shining, struggling to get a look at the screen. The pitcher pulled back, the ball came flying and... 'Crack!' Another tremendous shout of excitement erupted in the background, joined by an even heavier crack of wood, as Cadence watched the ball go sailing out of frame while the bat disintegrated.

"Clutch's bat just flew apart like kindling! High fly, down the center, looks like Deuce is trying to get under it... The Announcer declared, the camera rapidly panning to catch sight of a man searching for something in the sky... Shining's face went pale, as did many others in the crowd, though several appeared hopeful. Judging by the Roughnecks hats they wore, she could understand why. "It's over the outer wall, he knocked it out of the park! A grand slam! Wildfires and Roughnecks are tied four to four at the bottom of the first inning! It's a brand new ballgame, folks!" The announcer's voice was nearly drowned out by the screaming of the crowd behind him, as it seemed fans from both teams were screaming in admiration of what had just transpired, the field being briefly obstructed by the bodies of jumping, celebrating people.

"Man, I wish we could've been there to see that in person..." Shining mumbled with slight dejection, despite the look of satisfaction in his eyes. "Hopefully they're getting recordings of this from different angles, I bet that play's gonna be in every highlight reel from now 'til the end of time." He added a bit more positively, obviously entranced by what they'd all just witnessed. Cadence smiled and gently rubbed his shoulder while the cheering continued in the background. The cluster of eager watchers were likewise cheering, some were even hugging one another, indeed it sounded as if the entire city was crying out in adulation.

Cadence's eyes passed about the crowd, and gradually her smile grew. As much as she might've enjoyed seeing the play as it happened on the television, what she saw before her was just as awesome a sight. Undoubtedly they all had somewhere to be, as all of Equestria didn't shut down for one game, even if it seemed like it did. Newsboys and stock brokers, factory workers and tycoons, all had gathered round that tiny unassuming shack in spite of frigid temperatures and bitter winds. There, so tightly clustered round the television, all that separated the two groups was little more than what ball cap they wore.

What was more, this game was only the first of seven, so similar such gatherings would happen at least six more times. This was the true reason that Cadence had come to love baseball as she did... Not for feats of strength or agility, nor statistics or even its overall entertainment value. It was Equestria's pastime, a unifying force, around which all could rally together. Rich and poor, Noble or Black Crown, all ceased to matter as soon as the caps came on and the first pitch was thrown. For a few fleeting hours, the politics and ills of society just didn't matter anymore. All that mattered... Was the game...

The atmosphere within the confines of Alfredo's Bistro was at it always had been... Quiet, warm, and harboring a smell of garlic so potent that any vampire unfortunate enough to enter would thereupon drop dead. Alfredo's had been the principle restaurant of Prince Blueblood for as long as anyone cared to remember, though it wasn't known to the public exactly why. Most knew Alfredo's as the caterers of the Grand Galloping Gala, but that hardly seemed reason enough for him to be so fond of the place... The food was excellent, the wine selection superb, the staff friendly and polite, but even these traits hardly warranted the Prince's devotion to eating there. It was just one of those mysteries that'd likely never receive an answer...

Blueblood of course knew the reason with a fair bit of clarity. Even as he sipped gently from his glass of wine, reclining comfortably in his favored booth, his mind harkened back to a dreary winter day so many years ago. Tumbling snowflakes filled the air, air that had chilled his younger self to the core. He'd always been sickly as a lad... It was a time well before he'd ever heard the title 'Prince', when he was still just referred to as 'Master Blueblood' by his family's servants and various revolving door of nannies charged with his care.

That particular storm had been a rogue, which had become exceptionally bad after breaking free from Cloudsdale, and so it was with reticence that Blueblood's nanny at the time entered the front door of Alfredo's. The smell that greeted his young nostrils was identical to that which he sat in now, and conjured to mind images of several get-togethers he'd spied upon within the servants' quarters. So lively and filled with joy, a stark contrast to the regimented constraints and almost disinterested coldness of his parents and nannies. The waitress at the time, a pretty plump teenager by the name of Angel Hair, had welcomed he and his nanny warmly...

She'd sat him down in that very booth, brought him a glass of chocolate milk, gone out of her way to make him feel at home. It was the first time he'd ever known what that actually felt like. Upon being dragged away he'd never been able to forget the place, or the distress he would feel whenever he ate with his parents. Realizing that it was likely he'd never feel that way again, Blueblood had gotten low... Very low... That... Sadness had abated considerably upon his first meeting with his Aunt Celestia, whom had welcomed him into the Royal Family with just as much warmth as Luna accepted his Cousin Orzel. When she'd asked him where he wanted to go to celebrate, he didn't need very long to think.

It was only now, as an adult, that Blueblood was able to return to Alfredo's whenever he so chose. When he did so, once a week at least, it was exclusively by himself. Each and every time he sat in that same booth, affording him that small window into the kitchen, at the many cooks and chefs working like mad within. The walls were the same warm reddish-tan color, obviously drawing inspiration from the villas that speckled the hills of distant Stivale. Curling vines of ivy lingered overhead, carefully manicured for aesthetic purposes, the green serpent-like plants otherwise coiling around any surface they could. Peering back into the kitchen, Blueblood was reminded of a motion picture he'd once seen... A newsreel, about a great coal powered steamship, he couldn't recall the name... The men working in that hellaciously hot fire room, shoveling coal into the boilers... The kitchen couldn't compare to that chamber of fire, but Blueblood suspected it was as close as he'd ever come to witnessing it himself.

Leaning back in the plush leather booth seat, Blueblood's eyes fell upon the seat ahead of him. As it had been whenever he visited Alfredo's, the space was empty. Unlike other times, however, his eyes settled upon an untouched glass of wine and a menu that had yet to be picked up... Sighing faintly, his stomach growling in protest, the Prince looked at his own menu with dejected resignation. At first he'd hoped the woman that he intended to meet, as charming a creature as ever there was, was just running late. He supposed she'd reconsidered what being seen with him would do to her image in Canterlot, and Blueblood didn't blame her for that. Image was everything in Canterlot, after all...

"Signore Blueblood?" A woman's faintly accented voice drew him from his thoughts, and rapidly Blueblood turned to face the speaker. She was a tad plumper than when first he'd met her, dressed in a conservative Stivale fashion, but despite being at least ten years his senior she was still quite stunning. Angel Hair appeared slightly apologetic, her fingers laced together across her stomach. "There is a young woman wishing to join your table? She say she's a... Miss Rarity?" Blueblood's heart skipped a beat, and rapidly he straightened in his seat. "I know you say you were waiting for guest, but I wanted to ensure it was the right person. This is the woman you are waiting for, si?"

"Yes, that's her, Miss Angel Hair. Thank you for your concern..." Blueblood offered respectfully, nodding with a growing sense of hope. "Please, send her along?" Angel Hair nodded, disappearing from view towards the front of the restaurant. The booth he currently occupied was at the very rear of the establishment, free from prying eyes and the noise of idle conversation.

Blueblood had only a few moments to adjust the collar of his white button down dress shirt, he wanted to be as presentable as possible. Looking at the kitchen window again, to his surprise there were a few line cooks stealing glances towards him. Of course they were curious, this was the first time he'd ever invited someone to what he considered his 'happy place'... A few flashed him encouraging grins before returning to their work. Blueblood couldn't suppress a smile, his cheeks flushing slightly... They were like a bunch of big brothers and sisters, he'd undoubtedly get a good ribbing from the wait staff the next time he visited. Funny, that... Looking forward to ridicule, good natured as it might have been.

It was around then that the woman he'd waited for stepped into view... Dressed in an elegantly simple white evening gown, her flowing violet hair coiffed and curled, her flawless alabaster skin seemed to glow even in the dull yellow light of the overhead light bulbs. Her eyes were deep shimmering pools of sapphire, glimmering with eminent poise and compassion. Oddly, though perhaps not unexpectedly, she wore a light blue sash. Much like that his Cousin tended to wear to official functions. Like his Cousin's, it served no real function other than looking pretty, which it did very well.

Whether she realized it or not, his cousin had influenced Equestrian fashion... An irony that wasn't lost on him, considering some of whinging hurled her way. Blueblood's smile grew wider as he fully took his guest in, and so the man quietly stood from his seat to greet his date more properly. She offered her hand, clad in a white glove, and the Prince readily bowed to kiss it. She was radiant...

"Lady Rarity..." He greeted as he rose, pleased to see her cheeks blushing a bright crimson. "I had feared you reconsidered our meeting..." Blueblood added somewhat sheepishly as the woman took her seat, and of course he joined her on the opposite side of the table in his customary seat. Rarity smiled apologetically, glancing about the quiet nook he'd reserved for the two of them. "Given the... Eh... First impression I made in the Gardens."

The incident in question had come shortly after he'd left the party proper, when he had nearly bowled over the finely attired dress maker on his way to sample an Apple Fritter. He had done away with the facade of a posh horse's ass for the duration of the Gala, allowing him to indulge in some of his more deeply hidden tastes. Rarity had been most understanding, and not immediately put off by his appearance... How could she know his less than savory reputation, coming from Ponyville as she did? Blueblood was grateful for that, she was a wonder to behold... So smart, so generous... Keeping to his regular behavior undoubtedly would've driven her away.

"I must apologize, your Highness. It wasn't my intention to give that impression." Rarity explained modestly. "If I had reconsidered, I would at least be courteous and inform you." Blueblood raised an eyebrow at the use of 'Your Highness', he'd hoped they were past that sort of thing. As if reading his mind, Rarity blushed a bit less noticeably. "Forgive me again... I meant Blueblood..." The man only nodded, leaning on the table, unable to hide his curiosity. "You've no idea how difficult it was to find a cab from the train station, it seems almost the entire city is shut down to listen to that game..."

"It's quite alright, I'd forgotten the game was today... It's my own fault for not sending a car for you." Blueblood conceded, though he couldn't suppress a smirk. He wasn't much of a baseball fan, of course, but the city 'shutting down' for the Global Series was a yearly occurrence... Much like the falling of the leaves, or the Grand Galloping Gala, it just wouldn't be Autumn without it. "I trust the rest of your trip went well?" Rarity nodded, quietly picking up the menu before her. There was a quiet cheer from within the kitchen, and both turned as they heard the muffled sound of a radio being turned up beyond.

"It was pleasant enough." Rarity answered, thumbing through the pages with a curious look in her eyes. "I'm a bit curious as to why you chose Alfredo's... I realize they cater Castle functions, but..." Blueblood paused for a moment, he wasn't sure he trusted Rarity enough to give his true reasoning... Not yet. Then again, she was the first woman he'd ever felt comfortable taking to Alfredo's... That had to count for something, didn't it?

Romance wasn't something Blueblood was used to, not in an actual 'romantic' sense. He had been in other relationships, but they were more often than not predicated on the accomplishment of a political goal. The man made it a point to make that clear early on, as using people tended to make it difficult for him to sleep at night. The way he felt about Rarity was different, and brief as their first meeting had been, he hadn't been able to get her out of his thoughts... They'd exchanged letters, spoken on the phone, and not once had he felt the need to confess to any ulterior motives... There were none.

As for her question, it easily could've been deflected with a question of his own, parry the blow and counter. That was tactic he reserved for his enemies, not someone like Rarity. So he settled on the truth, of a sort... Old habits die hard.

"Nostalgia, I suppose." Blueblood explained casually, looking at his own menu, still laying neatly before him. He hadn't needed to read from the menu in years, as he'd committed most of its dishes to memory. He had only ever ordered one dish in all the years he'd been coming to Alfredo's, with very little deviation, but it was a pleasant reminder that Angel Hair was always thinking he might want to try something new. "The atmosphere is warm, the food is superb, and the employees are discrete." He added, taking a sip from his glass. "I've recently taken some political steps that might warrant a crowd if we were to visit another establishment, and I wanted this evening to be just between the two of us."

Rarity looked contemplatively between him and her menu, he had to wonder just what the woman would order... She didn't strike him as a fan of Stivale cuisine... More likely she'd prefer a Prench restaurant, but there were few in Canterlot that Blueblood dared show his face in again. Then again, wasn't this what legitimate courtship was about? Learning what one another liked and disliked, working out how two different people could come together and compliment each other? Blueblood smiled faintly at the thought, he had a good feeling about Rarity... That was rare. Angel Hair returned before he could continue, pen and pad in hand, and quickly she took their orders. Blueblood ordered spaghetti and meatballs, as always, while Rarity opted for eggplant Parmesan... Interesting.

"I saw your face in the paper, though I must admit I've not been keeping up with Canterlot's latest happenings." Rarity continued after Angel Hair departed, taking a sip from her own glass. Her eyes widened for a moment, and Blueblood briefly worried the newspaper would sour the moment. "Is this Chateau Jean-Luc?" She exclaimed, and the Prince could only nod. "My goodness, Blueblood..." She appeared genuinely touched by the gesture, which Blueblood had hoped for, though he hadn't expected such a reaction. "It's nearly three thousand Bits for a single glass! Really, you shouldn't have."

"Nonsense, I didn't spend a single Bit..." Blueblood smiled, swirling his own glass. "The bottle was one of several gifted to me by the Prench Prime Minister during last years economic conference. I was saving this one for a special occasion, I'm told it was a good year for Jean-Luc." The man nodded towards her, setting his glass on the the table's pristine white table cloth. "I can think of no better occasion than to share it with someone like you..." There was nothing wrong with a little flattery, so long as he didn't get carried away. "We've not had a chance to really get to know one another, I know you're a fashion designer, and that you're a member of the Element Bearers, but I must confess that is all."

"Hmm, well, where best should I begin?" Rarity mumbled thoughtfully, rubbing her chin, her eyes darting up and away as if searching for the answers in the air above. Blueblood wouldn't complain, as the overhead lights cast their light into the gorgeous glittering pools of blue that so enthralled him. "It's true that I am a designer, though admittedly I'd prefer to be more of a 'trend setter' than anything else." The woman glanced down at her sash, smirking faintly at what it represented. "Though, I suppose I'm not above following them once in a while... After all, they wouldn't be trends otherwise." The woman trailed off, sighing pleasantly. "And sometimes, I do my very best to buck them... My being here, for one." Blueblood raised an eyebrow, and Rarity gave that lyrical laugh of hers. "Come now, Blueblood... I'm not entirely ignorant to the happenings of Canterlot, people talk." Blueblood was about to speak, but she raised a calming hand.

"I'd heard rumors of your behavior prior to the Gala, though I'd suspected they were greatly exaggerated." Rarity continued, pursing her bee stung lips. "I admit, I'm not a creature of politics, but I like to think I have a fairly decent sense when it comes to judging one's character." Blueblood smiled faintly at that, that was one less awkward conversation he would need to have later. "Really, though, as much as I enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice, it's only fair that you get a turn to speak."

Blueblood nodded and began to speak, only to be interrupted as a sudden chorus of cheers and yells erupted from the kitchen. They didn't settle down as they had before, and seemed to only grow in intensity, before a rather flustered looking Angel Hair ran to the window and began shouting something in Stivalean, which quickly brought the noise back under control. Blueblood couldn't help a sense of mild curiosity as to just what it was that resulted in such a celebration. Obviously someone had just made an incredible play, but the radio remained muffled and impossible to discern. Looking back at Rarity, he chuckled cautiously.

"Perhaps we should have our food to go? The Castle would be a far less interrupted place to speak, wouldn't you agree?" Rarity looked at him dubiously, and inwardly he cringed, fearing he'd come on too strong. He hadn't contemplated the implications of his suggestion, else he might've worded it differently. The woman nonetheless shrugged, smiling good naturedly. Perhaps the evening wasn't lost after all...

"I don't mind sitting here for our meal. We can go to the castle afterwards, if the mood still strikes us." Rarity punctuated this by taking another sip of her wine. "Truth be told, I'm a tad... What's the word? Gun-shy?" The woman chuckled faintly, briefly casting a look around before leaning closer. "Last time I was there, I found myself whisked away to deal with that nasty Discord business..." Blueblood nodded in understanding, lacing his fingers together on the table. "So, you mentioned meeting with the Prench Prime Minister, that must've been exciting! Did he visit here or did you get the chance to go to Prance?" The man allowed a wider smile to cross his features.

"I was the one that went to Prance, yes." He nodded, recalling the trip rather wistfully. "Beautiful country, lovely people, my only complaint would be that I was there in an official capacity." Blueblood explained plainly, pursing his lips at the thought. "I would've loved to visit for the sake of visiting, none of the pomp and circumstance, but..." He shook his head. "No one in the Royal family can just 'visit for the sake of visiting', our very presence somewhere breeds controversy, it says 'This is important, pay attention!'." The man could see Rarity pondering his words.

"I suppose as an Element bearer I've had some similar experiences..." The woman admitted, crossing her arms as she spied the wine still swirling in her glass. "Not to such an extent, I admit, but my business has done remarkably well in the time since I started saving Equestria." Blueblood's eyes drifted back to the kitchen, several of the kitchen staff were still occasionally sneaking glances.

"Count yourself fortunate that celebrity has been a boon." The Prince cautioned, turning his full attention back to Rarity. "Tell me more about Ponyville, I hear it's a rather... Special place." Rarity smiled again, once more filling Blueblood with a sensation of considerable happiness. From that point on, the Prince listened intently as Rarity described life in the bucolic township of Ponyville.

The strange happenings only made up a fraction on of what happened there, only happening once a month or so. Typically they were easily resolved with some creative thinking and friendly understanding. It sounded almost impossible for such a thing to be possible, things being how they were in Canterlot. Blueblood was totally enthralled by the time their meals arrived, and almost forgot to thank Angel Hair for another display of excellent service. Life in Ponyville sounded... Peaceful... Tranquil... The sort of place where people looked out for one another. It wasn't perfect, as Rarity freely attested, but compared to what Blueblood saw and heard from day to day...? From that point on the two of them talked about all manner of subjects, from the weather, to their favorite authors, composers, and play-writes.

It'd been an hour or so since first sitting down when they'd finished their meals, and Blueblood offered to drive Rarity to the train station. She pointedly reminded him that the 'mood still struck her', much to the Prince's surprise. As always he left a sizable tip, gave his compliments to the chef, and just like that they were off. They departed to the Castle, talking in the car all along the way, and for the first time in Blueblood's life he didn't feel bad about saying goodbye to Alfredo's. The driver incidentally had the radio on, allowing the Prince a brief moment to hear the latest on the game.

"The score's tied five to five as we go into the seventh inning stretch, and the crowd is looking pretty pleased at that. After so many great plays, who can blame 'em?" The announcer proclaimed, sounding both exhausted and excited. While Blueblood was marginally interested in that, he was far more interested in Rarity, and it was at that point he stopped listening altogether.

Director Orcus strode quietly through the hallways of Canterlot's Nocturne Headquarters, his features hardened, his eyes hidden beneath his spectacles. The man was far from unhappy and, despite his unwavering scowl, was more or less moving with what he would deem confident optimism. The Lone Star Roughnecks had just won the first game of the Global Series, and while he had little interest in either of the teams, the game itself tended to mean that the crises faced by the Nocturne Agency for the day were comparatively light. Tomorrow would be a different story, but tonight would hopefully be smooth sailing.

The hallways of Nocturne HQ were surprisingly well appointed, adorned with photographs from successful operations and paintings of famous Agents, not to be circulated outside the building. Usually the air was heavily laden with the smell of paper, ink, and other office supplies. Tonight, however, those were drowned by the smell of fresh paint. Even as he was thinking of the day of calm, Orcus passed several men applying a fresh coat of paint to a nearby wall, as well as a trio of electricians rewiring an electrical panel, all of whom paid him little mind. That was fine, he didn't want to interrupt them anyway. Quiet days were so rare, and it was a prime opportunity for the facility's maintenance staff to get some work down without interruption.

The Director adjusted his tie with his left hand, as his right currently occupied by a smoldering cigarette. Fortunately Orcus was ambidextrous, so it wasn't that much of an adjustment... Besides, in a few short minutes he'd be aboard the elevator, on his way down to the ground floor, then home. Turning down one of the brightly lit hallways, his shoes echoing loudly against the black marble floor, the Director found his mind wandering to the event that had made him so busy in the recent months, and would see him busy for the foreseeable future as well. Not the Discord Incident, that was just another of the innumerable after effects...

The fates were sometimes easy to see, like as the silty bottom of an otherwise crystalline clear lake. Other times, whenever something unexpected happened, Orcus' visions of the future were obstructed. Small disturbances jostled the mirror surface and stirred up the sediment below the lake's surface, and only the passage of time would make the visions clear again... Lately, due to the event on which he pondered, he had been unable to even divine even the simplest of outcomes. The outcome of the next big game, for example. The sudden casting of a great stone into the shimmering waters of fortune had stirred the sediment of fate into an incomprehensible miasma.

The ripples left in the wake of the stone's impact were still ongoing, and Orcus doubted the Discord Crisis and subsequent after-effects would improve matters either. The Arrival Incident was the great 'stone', that which had thrown so much of what he did out of alignment. It'd violently disrupted the otherwise tranquil surface of the Arcane Barrier, and if that wasn't bad enough, likely stirred evil powers long dormant from their slumber. In just the past week he'd heard increased chatter from all known corners of the world.

Coups in Zebrica, rapid political polarization on the domestic front, talks of insurgency and secession in the Griffon Empire... These were all meager concerns by comparison to what he suspected would be Equestria's next potential disaster. An overall increase in the activity of the occult, and mentions of 'formless horrors' of blackest night... Creatures capable of altering their shape to that of, well, anything. He knew all to well what that meant. Changelings hadn't been encountered by the Nocturne Agency in centuries, and to Orcus' knowledge they'd just... Disappeared.

Except, when it came to the strange and bizarre, nothing ever just disappeared. Things that did tended to have a nasty habit of reappearing at the most inopportune of times, and the Arrival Incident only confirmed that. Granted, the remains taken into custody following that night were primitive 'de-evolved' specimens, but where two emerged, others were sure to follow. The Director recalled all too well Piercing's dissertation on the legendary 'Abyssal War', one he'd received shortly after the man's return to the fold.

The question of where the Changelings went had become an especially concerning one of late. As far as he was concerned they they were still out there, still scheming in the shadows, and they would do so with impunity until such time as their location was discovered. Even that didn't worry him on its own, but when taken into context with the arrival of Princess Orzel...? That was when things tended to grow out of proportion, especially given the girl's generally reclusive nature.

The Princess's arrival coincided with the increased difficulty Orcus faced in terms of divining the future... She was the only known surviving member of a species of dragons that did battle with the Changelings and the powers of purest evil in that most forgotten of ancient wars. Add to that the presence of an 'ancestral sword', strange and wondrous powers, even her adoption by Luna into a position of considerable influence. In the Director's experience, that tended to point towards the fulfillment of some sort of prophecy. That wasn't all, there'd been other odd happenings with regards to objects related to her arrival, such as the theft of certain items form an arcanely sealed morgue. It was difficult not to feel that powers beyond the comprehension of mortal minds were at work.

Prophecies were typically Celestia's bag, but the problem with this particular situation was a lack of any historical account of any such prophecy. Finding it, if it did exist, would prove next to impossible, courtesy of the ancient cleansing of almost all Kwarczkie lore by Lord Pyrite the Liar. What was more, it just as well could've been coincidence, and if Orcus pursued the 'Prophecy' angle he risked missing the signs of other solutions. He'd also need to have a conversation with Luna and Piercing, one that would undoubtedly become tense... If they agreed that there might be some unknown prophecy at work, it'd be an even more awkward conversation with Princess Orzel herself.

Ultimately he decided that there'd need to be some field work done to ascertain whether such a prophecy was in play or not, but to do so would require both time and patience. First and foremost, they needed to know just where to look. Fortunately, Piercing's knowledge of the Kwarczkie civilization was extensive... Hopefully he could steer them in the right direction, because if he couldn't...? If the ultimate conclusion of that prophecy came about before they knew just what it was they were looking for? Countless lives would be lost...

By the time the Director came to a stop in front of the elevator, his scowl had actually deepened, and any relaxation he might've felt before had since evaporated. Pressing the call button, the man took a lengthy drag from his cigarette, exhaling a considerable cloud of smoke. He watched his reflection in the polished steel doors, slightly warped by the un-even surface of the metal. He'd need to grab another pack of cigarettes on his way home... That too would need to wait, however. There was something about air around him, the way the floor felt beneath his shoes, a slight buzzing sound in the corner of his mind. Something was stirring, he could sense it... Moments later, frantic footfalls echoed down the hallway behind him, just as he heard the hum of the approaching elevator car.

The man crushed his nearly finished cigarette into a nearby standing ashtray, then took one of the last fresh ones from his pack. Smooth as clockwork he lit up, just in time to exhale another cloud of smoke as the owner of the footsteps came skidding to a halt a few feet behind him. In one swift movement he turned, finding a pegasus man attired in the brown uniform of a Technical Sergeant serving the Equestrian Army Air Corps. Orcus' dour expression had little impact on the man's stern stature, his feathery red wings likewise remained unruffled.

"Sir, we may have a problem in ADZ Seven." The man stated simply, gesturing down another stretch of the hallway. Orcus nodded without a word, ponderously following the soldier down the hallway, until finally he arrived at the door to a cramped and dimly lit office space.

Ideally suitable for ten people at most, the room housed twice that number at present. Every inch of wall-space was occupied by metal consoles that stretched from floor to sealing, each serving a different purpose, all illuminated by various flashing lights of differing color. Some were inset with Cathode Ray Tube screens, the state of the art displays streaming with various lines of text or other necessary information... The rest of the equipment, however, was so obsolete it might very well have been pulled out of a dump somewhere. The consoles were manned by men and women of the Army Air Corps, who watched the monitors intently, their ears shrouded beneath bulky headphones.

This was the SIRC, or 'Strategic Intelligence Response Center', more commonly referred to as 'The Circus' or ironically 'Big Top'. The brain child of a particularly forward thinking General, it'd proved just as difficult to secure funding for its establishment as had been the case with ESS Sokol. By comparison, setting up all this equipment was a far less costly endeavor than building an aircraft carrier. Even so, just providing the SIRC with what meager technology it possessed had nearly bankrupted the project.

In theory, the SIRC could serve as a 'Control Center' for all of Equestria's Armed Forces in times of crisis. In practice, given its lack of funding and limitations of its equipment, the SIRC was little more than a glorified weather station and air traffic control center. Biting his lower lip, the Director quietly made his way along the outside of the otherwise darkly lit chamber, the only appreciable light coming from a glowing map of Equestria's southern border on the various screens. It was more than enough to see by...

"Sarge!" A Specialist suddenly shouted from the far side of the room, his head rising from the console as the Technical Sergeant and the Director made their way over. Curious, Orcus silently loomed over the Specialist's shoulder, staring at the harshly glowing screen with intrigue. "Outpost Baker is still reporting three bogies in ADZ Seven." Orcus bit his lip, sighing through his nose as the report came in another screen. This one was circular, with a line sweeping around its interior from the center. Three large indistinct blots appeared as it passed over a section of the screen, gradually fading, only to reappear as the line passed over it again. "No eyes yet, but they suspect Reavers."

"Verify that these aren't signal phantoms, and alert General Warhawk at Firebrand. We may have a possible incursion in Air Defense Zone Seven. Then get me a location on the Princesses and their security detail. If they're still there, I want them out of Calico as soon as possible. Comet Protocol is in effect." Orcus ordered the Technical Sergeant, the man nodded and made his way to a red telephone on a nearby desk, leaving Orcus to examine the screen over the Specialist's shoulder.

Situated along Equestria's southerly border with the Southern Dragonlands, ADZ Seven had a sparse population, save for the city of Calico... Capital of Lone Star Province, where the Global Series had wrapped up some hours ago... Hopefully the Princesses were already on their way back. The ride from Calico to Canterlot by train could be a lengthy one, typically due to speed regulations and other limitations. Comet Protocol would clear the tracks of any traffic to make way for the Royal train, and additionally authorized the engineers of said train to travel at maximum speed whenever safe. With any luck, the Princesses would be back in Canterlot before Zero-One-Hundred Hours.

The three blips on the map shifted in appearance to red triangles, with small blobs of text identifying them as 'Bogey 1', Bogey 2' and Bogey 3' respectively. A soft chattering began to fill the room, the other operators were verifying there were no further targets in other sectors. It would take time to be completely sure, there were two dozen sectors and only so many free sets of eyes. Typically, Orcus wouldn't have held any delay against them, Reaver raids were exceptionally rare in the Autumn, but perhaps he'd allowed things to become too lax.

"Confidence is high! I repeat, confidence is high, these are not sensor phantoms!" The Technical Sergeant announced forcefully, holding a telephone receiver against his chest. Orcus made his way towards a set of stairs, rising to the second level and approaching the center of the room. "It's a bit difficult to tell in the dark, but Baker has partial visual confirmation that three airships may be bearing Reaver colors, course North-Northwest, bearing Zero-Two-Zero! War Hawk is awaiting authorization to scramble his alert fighters." Orcus noted that fairly quickly the names on the screen changed to 'TGT 1' and so on

"By the time we have authorization the enemy will be too close, tell him to do it on my authority. When you're done, I want you to phone the Castle and get me on the line with either Princess Cadence or Prince Blueblood! Get them on the party line, let's make sure our planes are cleared to take the shot if they need to!" Orcus ordered as he traced the line on the screen, a chill running down his spine. "After that I want you to call Colonel Archer at Meadowbrook Arsenal! I want him to deploy every SASC he has immediately in the enemy's path."

"That's not the correct procedure, sir." The Technical Sergeant objected.

"If we go by procedure they'll be above Calico before the first plane leaves the tarmac, now do it! When you're done with all that, call Field Marshal Arcturus and Field Marshal Redwood in as soon as possible, put them on the party line as well." Orcus countered, tensely taking a drag on his cigarette as he watched the 'TGT' markers gradually increasing in speed. The Technical Sergeant didn't hesitate after that, returning to his task. This would've been so much easier of the SIRC had just a few more men, or a few more modern pieces of equipment...

Like much of Equestria's government, the Equestrian military could at times be tedious in its procedures and protocols. It could get a job done if given ample time to get all the proper paperwork in order, especially if the Princesses made it a top priority, as was the case with Project Tartarus. When it came to emergency deployments, however, red tape could be almost as much a hindrance as concertina wire. Orcus had reviewed the reports following the Discord Crisis, specifically the Princesses' deployment of men from the Signal Corps to better improve communications... Just that simple task, sending one team of signalmen to each town designated as vital, had been delayed by nearly an hour due to a combination of frayed nerves and improperly filled 'Deployment Forms'. Were Equestria to find itself abruptly in a state of war, or even a skirmish as seemed to be unfolding now, the amount of casualties that might be inflicted as a result of tangled communications lines and other non-essentials was a number Orcus didn't want to contemplate.

The Reaver Clan certainly wouldn't wait patiently while forms were checked and re-checked. They were criminal outlaws and renegades, even among the Southern Dragonlands. Diplomatically, they had no official ties to their fellow dragons, and were just as likely to attack other Clans as they were literally anyone else. It'd been that way for as long as Orcus could remember, even when he'd served the Thestral Imperium. Piercing had gone off on tangents on where they'd come from, though Orcus hadn't paid much attention... Much as Orcus liked him, the man had a tendency to ramble...

There were still occasional skirmishes between Equestrian settlements and raiders from below the border, as most smaller Dragon Clans still had a desire to raid settlements. These were typically driven off by a combination of local militia and the Lone Star Rangers, both of which could respond to a threat in a quarter of the time it took the Army Air Corps or Territorial Garrison. When it came to legitimate threats, however, none were quite so loathsome or honorless as the Reavers. When they attacked, they attacked in force, and there was next to nothing that could be done to stop them short of killing every last one.

These airships in particular were on a direct course for Calico... A city the Reavers typically deemed too dangerous to assail, unless there was considerable chance of reward. That reward, in this case, being the Princesses, or so Orcus suspected... It didn't matter that the Princesses alone were likely a bigger threat to the Reavers than the Army Air Corps and Territorial Garrison combined, in the Reavers' warped minds capturing and ransoming the Princesses off would net them a gigantic prize.

"Targets just crossed into Equestrian airspace, sir." The Specialist at the console explained, pointing to the screen, on which the three 'TGT' markers had crossed over a dotted white line. "Target destination is Calico, ETA thirty minutes." The man rubbed at his chin, then looked up at Orcus. "Sir, maybe we should get on the horn with the Lone Star Weather Bureau? See if they can shift a head wind in that direction, maybe slow 'em down?" It was admittedly a good idea, but again, it'd take too long to implement. Orcus merely shook his head.

"Sir, we're patched in to Firebrand's comms." Someone announced from the back of the room, wordlessly Orcus gestured for them to pipe it through. On the off chance the Reavers responded it'd give him a better idea just what sort they were dealing with, maybe even give them some intelligence on where this particular set of airships might've departed from.

"...attention unidentified airships, this is Firebrand Army Air Base. You have entered into the Equestrian Air Defense Zone. Identify yourselves and reverse your heading immediately or you may be fired upon." A harsh sounding voice crackled through a set of speakers mounted to the wall. Orcus crossed his arms, scowling heavily as he took another drag on his cigarette. Typically he wouldn't have been so nervous, but with everything else on his mind, it was hard not to be a little on edge.

"Sir, SASCs are deploying." The Technical Sergeant stated quietly from the telephone, Orcus nodded quietly, exhaling the smoke through his nose. Surface to Air Spell-Casters were generally quick to deploy, as typically they could just teleport wherever they needed to go. The effectiveness of their spells would be limited by individual skill, as well as their ability to see the target. At night, the successful kill rate against a given target was typically ten percent, if that. Actual Anti-Aircraft guns, or interceptors from Firebrand, would've been far more preferable. Still, it was better than nothing.

"I say again! Unidentified airships, you have entered Equestrian Airspace! Identify yourselves and reverse your heading or you may be fired upon! If you cannot respond via radio, alter your heading to zero-nine-zero to acknowledge." The insistent voice demanded, again there was little in the way of response. A series of blue hexagons appeared on the screen, five miles directly ahead of the three 'TGT's, popping in one after the other... The SASCs.

"Nyet! Nyet! No shoot! Comm-pass no good! No speak Eck-wist-ran! We go beck!" A slightly haggard, vaguely reptilian, voice suddenly squawked back. It wasn't uncommon for the Reavers to respond with a similar ruse, though it'd never worked. The truth would be revealed when, if, the airships altered their course. Despite the general racket of the machinery, the atmosphere in the SIRC became abruptly tense... All eyes glued to their scopes, all ears turned towards the speakers.

Nearly a minute passed, and just as the markers were about to enter the range of the SASCs.... They began moving in the opposite direction. An audible sigh of relief went up throughout the SIRC, not the least of which came from Orcus himself. All eyes remained on the markers until they'd finally vanished from the sensor screens. Sometimes a crisis would avert itself, those were the best kinds of crisis... There would still need to be an investigation, but odds were the 'confirmation' of enemy airships would be attributed to the darkness of night or other such obstructions. Thankfully, someone aboard the airships actually responded to the radio calls, otherwise they very well could've opened fire on a Non-Reaver airship. An international incident was a headache Orcus didn't need tonight.

"Inform the SASCs and all pertinent commands... Recall any deployed personnel, stand down to Alert Status Yellow." Orcus ordered evenly, taking another drag on on his cigarette. It'd probably take an hour before his orders were actually carried out, double that if the paperwork got fudged somewhere.

Orcus would've liked to have the authority to order a restructuring of the military's communication and deployment protocols. Though technically one had to hold the rank of a Field Marshal in the Lunar Marines to hold the office, it was outside the purview of the Director of the Nocturne Agency to dictate protocol to the other branches. It could only come from within, or by order of a member of the Crown... Odds were it wouldn't happen for some time, as the inner workings of the military were a political minefield unto themselves...

The next few hours would be spent wrapping up the incident, discussing it with Princess Cadence and Prince Blueblood, working out what did and didn't work... A lot of paperwork, a lot of buck passing. Aside from those on the ground, Equestria would remain uninformed of the events that transpired in ADZ Seven. It'd still be recorded as it happened, of course, but no formal announcement. Such incursions happened frequently, and there was bound to be undue public concern if they knew every time an Airship violated Equestria's airspace, intentionally or otherwise. Orcus was thoroughly out of cigarettes by the conclusion of the meeting, and so at that point made a hasty departure for home.

The air was heavy with the smell of freshly applied paint, modeling glue, and the musty odor of dirty laundry. It mattered little to Spike, he was used to it by now, and if it was really bothering him he would've opened a window. He had bigger concerns, in a manner of speaking... Namely, the figurine he observed at present through the lens of his slightly rickety magnifying lamp. It was at Twilight's request that he was working to paint several new figures. They'd play a role in one of her upcoming Ogres and Oubliettes games, and her specification as to their color pallet was proving to be quite the challenge. They were Timber Wolves, but rather than the typical vibrant color patterns Spike favored, these had to at least somewhat blend in with the battle map itself. It'd be part of a special 'horror' one-shot session she was running in the lead up to Nightmare Night.

The studious librarian had given Spike a book by a rather obscure naturalist, 'An Extensive Study on the Adaptive Color Patterns of Flora and Fauna'. With a name like that, Spike had expected it to be one of the most mind numbing reading experiences of his life. To his surprise, it had actually proved an interesting read... It was no 'Daring Do', but it wasn't trying to be. The work was a scientific publication, evaluating the mechanisms with which animals evolved to emulate their environment, helping them to blend in and avoid predators. Spike took inspiration from a few of the well produced illustrations, and now was working very carefully to apply that knowledge to the figurines.

That wasn't to say the work at hand was his only focus, far from it in fact, as he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Spike had plenty of stuff on his mind, but realistically when was that ever not the case? The main issue was his reply to Princess Orzel's letter, or lack thereof. He should've responded a few days ago, but thus far he'd thrown out every draft he came up with. He'd already decided to invite her to one of the games Twilight ran, the woman of course having agreed when he brought it up. She'd even offered to send the Princess a few of the basic rule books, but Spike was fairly certain Princess Orzel would be more than capable of acquiring her own. That left the majority of the letter up in the air, as merely inviting her to the game didn't really expand on some of the questions the Princess raised.

Simply speaking, Spike wasn't exactly sure what else to say... Writing was hardly his strong suit, creatively or otherwise, and more than anything he feared saying something that the Princess might misconstrue as offensive or insulting. Now his mind was fully consumed with his worries, and it was beginning to show. The teen stopped, pursing his lips and setting both the paint brush and the half painted figurine back on his cluttered desk. He'd need to come back and fix that one later, his brush having strayed and ruined what'd otherwise been the best figurine yet.

Carefully he moved both it and the paint brush aside, making room for a fresh piece of paper and his pen. He adjusted the lamp so that it cast a less harsh glare upon the page, his eyes flitting to the book resting haphazardly atop a pile of completed homeschooling assignments. A few moments of rifling through them produced the Princess's letter, which he carefully reread for what felt like the fiftieth time. It still smelled of that oddly fragrant perfume, the only thing that could cut through the ambient odor of the room of the teenaged model maker.

"My dearest princess-"

Spike quickly balled up the paper and chucked in the vague direction of his waste basket, where it joined the overflowing pile of other such discarded attempts. The boy quickly grabbed another sheet of paper from his desk drawer, set it on the desk proper, and stared at it for what felt like hours. In his mind he harkened back to the night of the Gala, to the unfortunately abbreviated conversation between him and the beautiful Princess. That image in and of itself conjured to life countless scenes from hundreds of fantasy novels, when the brave knight would correspond with the fair maiden he'd left behind to answer the call to adventure.

Of course, his relationship with Princess Orzel was hardly anything like those of his heroes. One letter did not a romance make, and he wasn't even sure 'romance' was what he was after... Even if it was, what were the odds the Princess would feel the same way? Struck by wave after wave of negativity, a frown tugged Spike's lip down, and again he found himself thinking about Rarity. He'd made his peace with her courtship, or so he told himself... It still stung. Indeed, lately he found it difficult just getting out of bed, made doubly difficult considering he hadn't been sleeping all that well.

For a few moments he felt tempted to go to Twilight, to talk with her about it, but ultimately he just sighed and shook his head. She had her own problems, she didn't need him coming to her like a baby, whining about problems he should've just shut up about and faced on his own... There was one person, a person who explicitly offered to listen to his problems, and it was in her that he'd need to confide. Biting his lip, Spike put pen to paper once more, this time writing with a more solemn mindset. Once again he called upon his memories of fantasy and heroes to guide his words, and with them in mind, hoped for the best.

My lady,

Your letter indeed found me well, and it is I that must admit my regret in having kept you waiting this long. You're not alone in the 'personal letter' inexperience department either, this is probably my eightieth attempt, and I'm not even sure if I'm going to keep it. I guess you'll know the answer if you're reading this right now. Of course I'd be willing to become your friend, not only would I consider it an honor, but I think it'd be a great chance for the two of us help one another.

As you've said yourself, life in Equestria can be trying, especially for people like us. I know that there are boundless depths hidden beneath the mask of calm you so carefully maintain, as it is a mask I too must endure. It'd help to have someone to talk to, someone who truly understands what it means to be a Dragon. In that respect, I am humbly at your service, and beg your indulgence of some thoughts of my own.

I've been giving a lot of thought to some of the things you said to me at the gala. The nature of Equestria's people, and how I fit among them. I try to believe that they're people that would do the right thing, if presented the choice to do so, but... Then I think about how they've responded before, how quickly their minds might be swayed by a fear of what they don't understand... What they can never understand. Then I ask myself 'Why do I even bother to put up the mask?'. I don't even know if I'm doing a good job at it, there's a lot of stuff that I just make up as I go along. Some of it I can't talk to my Mom about, so I look in books, or talk to someone who can keep a secret... There aren't many of those in Ponyville.

At times I can't help but feel like a coward... I want to be brave, I want to stand up, speak my mind, but I always 'think better' of it. 'I'm not important enough, best not say anything'. What other choice is there? I could go live with other Dragons, in theory, but would I even be welcome there? I worry about that too... What if I'm too much of a 'Dragon' to live in Equestria, but at the same time not 'Dragon' enough to live in the Dragonlands? Do you ever worry about that?

Spike looked over the page for a few moments, pondering if he should start again. Simply addressing Princess Orzel as 'My Lady' seemed overly familiar, but at the same time he didn't want to come off as too formal either. His mention of 'Masks' and some of his deeper thoughts also gave him pause... He recalled, however, that the Princess highly valued the honesty of a statement. What he was writing was just his stream of consciousness, his deeper thoughts, finally given a voice upon that unassuming page. Thoughts he himself likely wouldn't confront anywhere else, thoughts that up until then remained formless nasty things, infesting the edge of consciousness. Ultimately, he decided that he'd keep what he'd so far written, and it was from that point he continued.

That's enough about my worries... You asked me about books, if I'd read anything interesting lately. As a matter of fact, I've recently had the opportunity to read a rather lengthy piece. 'An Extensive Study on the Adaptive Color Patterns of Flora and Fauna', by Dr. Dazzle Disguise. It covers the subject of camouflage, how plants and animals evolved the ability to hide in plain sight, or otherwise ward off predators, merely by virtue of their coloration. Admittedly I'm not much of a naturalist, and much of the technical jargon went over my head, but the general premise is one I think you'd find fascinating. I myself have been applying similar techniques to painting several figurines for an upcoming game of Ogres and Oubliettes, which I think serves as a perfect transition to my next topic of conversation.

Spike cast a brief look at one of his shelves on the wall, catching sight of a few model airplanes, surrounded by a dozen or so finely painted figurines. They were but a fraction of his collection, the vast majority of which resided in a series of shoe boxes he stored under his bed, beside the other things he treasured. For some reason, he found his already poor ability to sleep was further hampered if he stored them anywhere else. A fair number of boxes containing unpainted models and figures resided in one corner of his room, awaiting the day when he'd finally get around to painting them.

Spike shook his head, turning his attention back to the letter. Hopefully the Princess wouldn't think O&O itself was too 'geeky' or 'weird'... Few people even knew he played the game outside of himself, Twilight, Big Mac, and the small coalition of girls around his age more commonly known as the Cutie Mark Crusaders. There were plenty of people in Ponyville that played, as Twilight and Spike himself could personally attest, but to his knowledge it was still widely considered a quasi-deviant hobby.

I've talked with my Mom, and she and I would like to invite you to join one of our game sessions. The game takes place in a fantasy setting, you get to make your own character and take them on adventures. There's not really enough space in one letter to explain how everything works, but I think it's a great deal of fun. It's got a large number of different editions, each with its own different source books and slight rule variations. Mom and I mostly run the current edition, since it's not as intimidating to newer players. We'll need to work out what day you might be able to visit, that is, if you're interested?

Spike sighed heavily, looking at the letter with another bout of anxious hesitation. Now it felt like he was rambling, or perhaps sharing too much, but once again he recalled the Princess's letter, he was merely responding as asked. That did little to mitigate the dread that came with writing, as the act itself was incredibly stressful. Once he felt the work was done, once he'd proofread it over and over again, discarding countless drafts and starting again from scratch, he'd still need to summon the courage to actually send it out there. Then there'd be nothing he could do to take it back, even if he wrote an addendum, that first message would still exist somewhere...

"Just do it... Man up, finish the letter, then sign the damn paper!" Spike grunted to himself, after a few moments of hesitance he clenched his fist and brought the pen within a hair's breadth of the page. His trembling hand was hardly controllable, even if he had the words they'd come out mangled and illegible. "Cyka bylat!" Spike blurted somewhat loudly in Draconic, setting the pen on the desk and crossing his arms. The teen immediately froze, however, when he heard a shocked gasp to his rear.

"What did you just say, young man?" Twilight stated, her tone stunned and bordering on angry. For a few fleeting moments Spike remained perfectly still, some deeper instinct telling him that the best thing to do when a predator was around was to make as little movement as possible. "Don't ignore me, turn around." Cringing visibly, Spike carefully swiveled his chair to face the door, where he found Twilight standing with a plate of food in hand. Any shock she might've displayed was replaced now by eyes narrowed behind her glasses, a set jaw, and a tapping foot... Had she not been holding what Spike suspected to be his dinner in her hands, he had no doubt she'd have both her arms crossed as well. "Now, what did you just say?" Sighing in defeat, Spike dejectedly repeated himself.

"I said 'cyka bylat'..." He slumped his shoulders, nervously pursing his lips. "I'm sorry, Twilight, it just kinda... Slipped out." He added, almost as an after thought, hoping that would be enough to placate his Quasi-Mom. It wasn't. The look on Twilight's face shifted more towards concern, and wordlessly she entered the room, carrying the plate to his desk and setting it atop a pile of papers. Spike unconsciously moved to try and obstruct her view of the paper, which only served to draw the woman's attention.

"You're up here so much lately, I've hardly seen you. I thought maybe you were just tired, but... That sort of language isn't like you at all..." Twilight observed, taking a seat on the edge of Spike's bed and resting her hands on her knees. "It's not just that, lately you've been in this sort of... Fog. I'm worried about you... Please, talk to me." Spike wasn't entirely sure what to say, if he should say anything at all.

Some silent voice inside begged and pleaded with him to tell her everything, but... As always, he thought better of it. Twilight had enough to worry about as is, she didn't need to know that every day he felt progressively worse inside, or that he wasn't sleeping, or anything else for that matter... It just wasn't worth trying to begin with, he'd need to find another way. Looking between her and the door to his room, Spike stood from his seat and grabbed the purple hooded sweatshirt resting haphazardly on his bed.

"I'm sorry, Twilight, really..." Spike offered as he zipped the garment closed. "You're right, I've been cooped up in here too long. I just need some air." It was getting dark outside, the air would be cool... He could go seek advice from someone else, there was already a person in mind. Twilight stood from the bed, glancing now at the unguarded letter. After a few moments she crossed her arms, though her features appeared more solemn than upset.

"Look... Before you go anywhere, maybe you should finish your letter first?" Twilight stated with gentle sternness, picking up the plate and turning towards the door. "I'll take this with me downstairs, you can come get it whenever you're done. We'll talk then, after that, if you still want, you can go... Get some air..."

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but Twilight left so quickly he didn't have time to get a single word out. Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time, he slumped his shoulders and resumed his seat at the desk, where he spent the next hour or so staring at his unfinished letter. His mind was playing tricks on him, dragging him deeper and deeper into a black smog... The world grew dimmer, the colors muted and gray. Briefly Spike got up to open the window, allowing the cool night air to flood into his stuffy broom closet of a bedroom... That helped, a little, but not nearly enough. Eventually, eventually, Spike picked up his pen and continued.

I hope I haven't given you too much information, or too much concern, and I would count myself lucky if our correspondence does become a regular affair. If ever you want to converse verbally, I can be reached by the library's phone at PV 5-5555. You're of course welcome to visit in person as well. No need to knock when you get here, we're a public library, after all. Hope to hear from you soon.

Spike once again found himself stumped... It shouldn't have been that difficult to just sign his name, but... Once he did that he'd have to send the letter... It'd be out there, in the Princess's hands, and he'd have no way of recovering it. The fear paralyzed him once again, this time he wasn't quite sure how long it took him to work up the courage to continue. Finally, with shaking confidence, the teen set his jaw... No more excuses... He was going to finish this letter, eat his dinner, then... Well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Yours in confidence, Spike T. Dragon

Before he could second guess himself yet again, Spike folded the letter and slipped it into a waiting envelope bearing the Princess's name. Sealing it shut, the boy held the message up in front of his mouth. A small burst of green flames passed effortlessly from between his lips, rapidly consuming the message. The ashes flew out the open window just as they had so many times before, off to wherever Princess Celestia might be. Sighing with impending dread, Spike pushed his seat back and glanced once more at the clock. He hadn't realized how long it'd taken him to write one simple paragraph, and given the late hour Twilight would surely be in bed...

The boy's stomach growled, so he stood and left his room, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatshirt as he quietly trudged down into the library proper. As he'd expected, the room was dark. Moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating row upon row of neatly ordered book spines. A dim yellow glow was cast across the floor from the kitchen doorway, the result of the small light mounted in the hood over the stove within. Briefly Spike considered taking the opportunity to go on his walk, but his stomach grumbled in protest... There'd be time for that after he ate, besides, the person he'd wanted to go talk to was probably already in bed by now anyway.

As was always the case when Spike paid a midnight visit to the kitchen, he found the checkered linoleum floor to be spotless, a pair of dull red curtains drawn over the small window, and the electric icebox humming ever so dully from its place inset in the kitchen counter top. The floral wall paper was faded, but that mattered little, considering a good portion of it was concealed beneath innumerable framed photographs of Twilight and Spike, or Twilight and her friends, or some combination thereof. In all of them Spike saw happy people, big smiles and laughter. Some of his were genuine, but he knew more than a few were forced... He'd become quite good at faking them, as it was hard for even him to discern exactly which were real and which were an affectation.

What caught Spike unawares about the kitchen was the presence of Twilight herself, arms folded on the table, serving as an impromptu pillow for the woman's weary head. The woman had said she'd wait for him to come down and eat, and that was precisely what she'd done. Spike grimaced, inwardly kicking himself for not coming down sooner... He felt like such a heel, well, more of a heel than was already the case. The boy approached with caution, not wanting to startle the librarian, and instead gently shook the woman's shoulder. Twilight was undisturbed at first, but eventually stirred. She peered about the room blearily, raising her head from the table and rubbing at the back of her neck.

"Sorry, must've dozed off..." She mumbled, blinking tiredly at Spike. "All finished with your letter?" The teen awkwardly nodded, his eyes glued to the floor, as he found it almost impossible to meet the woman's eyes. He wouldn't have blamed her for being cross with him, but... She wasn't. "Good... Have a seat, I'll get our dinners warmed up..."

Twilight rose from the chair, only to stop and stare at a clock on the wall... One of those cartoonish 'black cat' clocks, the sort with a bow-tie, where the eyes and tail moved back and forth. Like so much of their furniture, it'd been left behind by the previous librarian... Spike didn't blame them, he wouldn't have wanted to bring it with him, the thing gave him the creeps. Twilight's interest in the clock was probably more to do with the very late, technically very early, hour.

"Or I'll just make breakfast..." Twilight decided, rolling her shoulders as she moved to the icebox. Spike opened his mouth to try and convince her to just go to bed, but the woman held a single finger up to the side. The seriousness she bore likewise killed any notion of protest. "We need to talk, so just... Sit down, okay? Don't fight me on this, I'm too tired..." The woman's voice once more was laden with conflict.

Spike did exactly as she told him, pulling one of the metal chairs out from the aging blue linoleum topped table. Meanwhile, Twilight took a small assortment of eggs and an equally small block of 'processed cheese' from inside the icebox. She set these beside the stove, then reached into one of the wall mounted cabinets, from which she took a tin of spiced ham. Judging by the plain packaging, announcing only the contents and depicting the seal of the Equestrian Ministry of Agriculture, the latter two were part of the 'Winter Stop-Gap' rations recently distributed at the Ponyville market.

"You're not in trouble, but I need you to be honest with me..." Twilight continued, placing a heavy black cast-iron skillet on the stove and lighting the burner beneath, this was in turn greased with a miniscule dash of cooking oil. "Are you happy here?" She asked, turning to lean on the kitchen counter while crossing her arms across her chest. Spike stared at her, searching her face for any hint of explanation... She looked... Worried, more worried than usual. "I mean, are you happy here, with me? Have I done anything to make you think you aren't wanted?" Spike again wasn't sure how to respond, or where this might've come from. "I'm a bit of a speed reader..."

"Oh..." Spike realized, sighing inwardly to himself for not having covered his letter more diligently. For a few seconds he found himself feeling... Angry at Twilight. It was his private letter, his private thoughts, she had no damn right to read them! Somewhere, deep down in his gut, a tiny flame was taking hold. With abrupt suddenness his arms felt very itchy, and for some bizarre reason his teeth hurt. Whatever the feeling was, Spike hated it. He didn't want to be angry, not at Twilight, or anyone for that matter. With that thought he managed to wrangle his emotions back under control, extinguishing the flame with the simple act of taking a deep breath.

"I don't know..." The teen finally answered, the itches and the pain in his teeth gradually receding. "You haven't done anything to make me feel like you don't want me here, but... I guess I'm just worried that it's only a matter of time." The boy gestured with his head towards the window. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I didn't grow up in Equestria, y'know...? Would I be the same person? Would you still trust me like you do, to be your special assistant? Would you look at me and think 'That's a dragon, I should keep a close eye on him.'."

"Spike, you're more than my special assistant. I helped raise you, you're... You're my son. You're the most important person in my life, nothing is ever going to change that." Twilight insisted as she opened the tin of spiced ham and struggled with a fork to remove the slippery uniform brick of pink processed meat from within. "Honey... You don't have to walk on eggshells around me, or my friends, or anyone in Ponyville. We all love you!" Spike couldn't suppress the scowl that took hold, this was exactly the sort of response he'd expected from Twilight... She wouldn't take his concerns seriously, she'd write them off as him just 'not understanding'...

"I don't doubt you and your friends love me, Twilight, but c'mon... The rest of Ponyville?" Spike's disbelieving tone appeared to ruffle some of Twilight's proverbial feathers, and by now she'd given up on the fork and instead used her magic to teleport the spiced ham out of the can and onto a cutting board. "You saw how they all reacted to Zecora, and I know you've read how they responded to Princess Orzel... Heck, even Applebloom and her friends are more or less 'Normal', and they still get picked on. How long before I do or say something and they start avoiding me? Or worse, they go the other way! Full on 'grab your torches and pitchforks!', then run me out of town."

By now Twilight had transitioned to allowing magic to compile their breakfast, crossing the room and resuming her place at the table. Spike briefly watched the icebox open, a glass bottle of milk wafted out on a cloud of magic, moving quickly over to the counter. From this, the teen deduced she was making omelets... One of his favorites. Twilight meanwhile still bore the visage of a concerned mother, and she reached across the table to take one of his hands into one of hers, the other glowing faintly as it conducted the cooking of breakfast.

"You were right in your letter, I can't say I understand what it feels like to be a Dragon..." Twilight began, gently squeezing Spike's hand. "But I think it's safe to say that I know exactly how it feels to think you're just one small mistake away from total disaster." The boy was going to retort, but ultimately he had to concede that point... He'd seen it happen plenty of times. "Celestia and I talked about this, actually... Well, we talked about a bunch of stuff, but... Never mind." Spike couldn't help but smile, faintly, at the woman's rambling. "You and I, we... Deep down, we're both thinkers. We just think and think and think, all day long... Then, when we're done thinking, we think some more!"

Spike could see several bowls manifesting themselves on the counter. The magic was cracking the eggs, whisking them together with milk and so on... All the while Twilight appeared totally focused on the conversation. From what Spike understood of magic, the level of mental discipline it must've taken to do so much was frankly staggering. Twilight was right about one thing, she was most certainly a 'Thinker'...

"When we look at the world, we look at whatever data we have on hand, ask some questions, ponder over it for a while, maybe ask some more questions... This is how we gain our perception of reality." Twilight continued, withdrawing her hand so as to assist her other, now both glowed dimly with purplish energy. "Most of the time that's a good thing! It's how we learn, how we grow, but our conclusions are only as good as the data we use to base them on. Now, is it safe to say you think people were afraid of Zecora because she was different? I recall you weren't too keen on her, either."

"Yeah..." Spike agreed, earning an understanding nod from Twilight.

"Forget what you know about Zecora now. Imagine you're just an average person living in Ponyville. Ponyville, which at the time had been menaced first by Nightmare Moon, then a few weeks later troubled by Trixie and that Ursa Minor, just to name a few." Twilight explained with a logical tone. "Suddenly, a strange woman from a far away land moves to the edge of town. There she practices alchemy, potion crafting, and other arcane arts in secret. No one knows who she is, what she's capable of, or what her intentions are." The room was suddenly filled with the skillet sizzling and the smell of cooking eggs and frying spiced ham. "So... With that in mind, was Zecora really ostracized by Ponyville just because she was different, or because people who are different tend to bring trouble to Ponyville?"

"I... Hadn't thought about it like that." Spike admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck while looking dejectedly at the table. "But, what about Princess Orzel?" Twilight's expression became a tad less optimistic, turning to a sad smile.

"Unfortunately, that's up to politics more than her being different..." Twilight stated simply, leaning her head to the side. She had bags under her eyes, and once again Spike felt a surge of guilt at forcing her to forestall a good night's sleep. "She's Luna's daughter, and a lot of people are still upset about the Nightmare Moon incident. Even then, both Luna and Orzel aren't universally disliked. The Black Crowns certainly seem to have taken a shine to them." The woman suddenly shook her head, more to keep herself awake than anything else.

"As for Applebloom and the others? I'm afraid that's a point I'll have to concede..." Twilight sighed. "That's one friendship problem I don't think we'll ever be able to fully tackle. Kids can be jerks, and picking on those they find 'different' falls under that category. Not to say we shouldn't try, of course..." Spike turned his eyes to the window, with his foot he nudged the curtain back. His eyes beheld the most beautiful night sky either had seen in a while, a glittering field of gems upon a satin curtain of bluish-black. "This is why I worry about you. How can I help if you don't tell me what's going on?" The woman added gently.

"It's not that easy, Mom..." Admitted Spike, his eyes fixating now on the distant mountain lights of Canterlot. With his elbow resting on the table, it wasn't long before he found his cheek resting in the palm of his hand. The boy might've been wrong about some things, he'd admit that, but... He'd already caused Twilight enough problems that night. If he'd only written a little faster, hadn't hemmed and hawed over every detail... Then, as was so often the case with his spiraling thoughts, the boy's mind made the herculean leap to the fact that he was going to be an adult in a few years. No one would care about how he felt then, why should they care about him now? He wasn't important enough, simple as that. "Look, I'm fine... I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Twilight looked about as convinced of Spike's words as Spike himself, but before she could call him on that fact he was saved by the bell. Quite literally. Specifically the rhythmic ringing of the telephone resting on the kitchen counter, which Spike quickly rose from his seat to answer. Speaking to whatever insane person might be calling at this ungodly hour of the early morning seemed a more than better alternative. Twilight sighed, rising from her seat and moving back to the stove so as to continue making their impromptu breakfast. Spike, meanwhile, lifted the receiver from its cradle and brought the mouthpiece near his lips.

"You have a direct call from Canterlot Castle for a 'Mister Spike'. This call may be monitored and recorded for the purposes of national security. Do you consent to these terms?" A nasally voiced operator stated, sounding more bored than anything else. Spike was floored, not only that he was receiving a call from Canterlot Castle, but that it was so soon after having sent his message.

"Yes! Yes... I, uh, I do." Spike answered quickly, a few moments later he heard a few distinct buzzing and popping sounds. It was likely the operator connecting him to whomever it was that called him, though he already had a fairly good idea. After a few moments he heard nothing but silence, then a muffled distant voice, which he couldn't make out. "Hello? Can you hear me?" Someone fumbled with the receiver, when next they spoke it was far easier to hear.

"Y-Yes! Hello, Mister Spike! I am sorry, I have never used one of these 'telephones' before." Princess Orzel's voice sounded a little tinny over the line, but otherwise it was just as Spike remembered it being. A flat monotone, with barely any inflection or deviation whatsoever. "I... Had the handset upside down." She admitted, in what for her might've been a sheepish tone of voice. "I hope I did not wake you, I only just received your letter."

"Don't worry, you didn't wake me..." Assured Spike, casting a brief look at Twilight, who was watching him with evident curiosity as she continued finishing up the omelets and spiced ham. He simply mouthed the words 'Princess Orzel', earning a surprised quirk of her eyebrow. "I haven't really been able to sleep as well lately."

"Oh... I... I admit I have been having some trouble sleeping as of late as well, for a number of reasons." The Princess's monotone strayed upwards for just a moment, as if there was more she might've wanted to say, but didn't. "I saw the phone number in your letter, so I thought... Well..." She trailed off. "I am sorry... I thought it would be easier to talk, but..." The girl awkwardly sighed, then took a deep breath. "Okay. I read what you said, and I wanted to say that know how it feels."

"I know what it is like to feel as if you are not 'important enough', that everyone is better than you, so you must keep your head down and 'think better' of saying how you truly feel." To Spike's continuing surprise, when next she spoke she had what sounded to be genuine emotion in her words... A profoundly deep sadness. "I know our friendship is new, but I wanted to say that you are important to me, and I do not think you a coward for fearing to speak up... It takes time to build that courage. I feared you might spend undue time worrying about such things. That is another area in which my experience is extensive."

"I..." Spike began, his voice faltering for the briefest moments. After a few moments he managed to put on a brave face, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand while turning to look at Twilight. She was setting their midnight breakfasts on a pair of plates, then mouthed 'I'm going to bed.', taking her plate with her. "Love you..." Spike said unthinkingly, only to worriedly realize he still had the phone to his hear. "Sorry, that wasn't directed at you, I wasn't trying to be weird... I was just talking to Mom." The boy nervously sighed through his nose. "I appreciate what you said, your highness..."

"Mister Spike... If you wanted to, y-you can just call me Orzel, i-in private, of course." Orzel offered, her voice taking on a notable shade of bashfulness... Spike could practically hear the Princess blushing through the phone. For some reason, that brought the boy a sense of relief, and just a little pride. "'My lady', as you put in your letter, is also acceptable... I suppose..."

"Thank you, my lady..." Spike stated respectfully, unable to contain a small smile as he carried the phone cradle and his plate to the dinner table. "And you may of course call me Spike..." The teen took a seat, picking up a fork and stabbing at a cube of spiced ham. He picked up the morsel and quickly swallowed it, once again looking through the window at the lights of Canterlot. The Castle was easily visible among them all, and Spike had to wonder if the Princess might be looking back at him... "So, have you given any thought to the offer to join one of our games?"

"I have, and I am pleased to say I accept." The girl agreed... Spike and the Princess conversed for a good while from that point on, first on the finer points of the game in question. She would send him a list of possible dates that worked for her, hopefully they'd find one that coincided with a game.

It was difficult for Spike to tell at first, but he got the feeling the Princess would likely wind up going with the 'Cleric' or 'Paladin' class for her first character. 'Wizard' and 'Artificer' were also good bets, considering the numerous questions she asked regarding how spells and item crafting worked. Gradually, the discussion turned to their other hobbies and interests... Model making seemed to be another point they had in common, as was reading, though not to the same extent.

If the Princess was to be believed, she could probably outpace even Twilight, with an ability to read a staggering twenty-thousand words per minute. By her own admission, that wouldn't have been possible for a typical Equestrian. Current understanding of the standard Equestrian eye was that, anatomically speaking, it was limited to processing less than a tenth of that. Draconic eyes were decidedly different, and the Princess's especially so... They did glow, after all.

Still, for as literately minded as Orzel seemed, Spike could tell she was doing her best not to ramble or go off on too many tangents. She seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, at times asking just as many questions as he did, if not more so... He got the impression the girl's mind was a boundless sponge, absorbing any information it came into contact with. It was a tad intimidating, but this was mitigated by the level of humility and slight awkwardness the Princess displayed, not unlike Twilight's own mannerisms.

Eventually, having established a rapport and surprising level of trust, the two of them took to talking about topics of a deeper nature. Talking with someone about it, even if that person couldn't offer any advice, proved beneficial to the both of them. Spike told her of his occasional bouts of depression and insomnia, especially lately... How he feared losing touch with his Equestrian roots as he grew older, and what he worried would become of him should that ever happen. To this, Orzel responded by urging him to seek a counselor, someone truly qualified to help him deal with his issues... It'd apparently helped her greatly, and Spike assured her he would look into the matter further.

His words weren't all doom and gloom, and Spike spoke freely of his dreams for adventure and exploration... Perhaps, when he was older, he'd strike out for Equestria's unexplored frontiers on a survey expedition, or sign up for the Navy, to sail and see the world abroad. On the topic of the Navy, it was clear Orzel was exceptionally passionate. She spoke of the various places he might see, numerous traditions and things Spike hadn't even considered...

When Orzel spoke of her own fear, it was that Equestria's status as a Global Power was at risk. That they were perched on the edge of some great nightmarish abyss, just one shove away from total disaster. All the recent 'small disasters' and other incidents she couldn't go into detail over had apparently shown her cracks in its foundations. Her Mom likewise was apparently distracted by the presence of a suitor, which left Orzel feeling as if she was the only person to see the true danger faced by all. Orzel's mention of a suitor stirred some thoughts Spike would've preferred remain dormant. His conversation with Rarity, how she was happy he was talking to someone his own age, in particular. The fact that Orzel was starting to remind him of a pint-sized version of Twilight certainly didn't help matters...

The Princess was a little hesitant to speak of her own hopes for the future, and Spike supposed that was only natural. In terms of leadership, she wanted to be the one to lead Equestria into a new era of economic prosperity and martial strength... On a personal level, she wanted to push the envelope of technology and science, though Spike suspected that probably wasn't everything... That was fine, as much as they trusted each other now, odds were that trust would only deepen with time. Needless to say, the conversation went better than Spike might've expected. As with all good things, unfortunately, the end came far too swiftly...

"I think it is time for me to try and get back to bed, Aunt Celestia will be most cross with me otherwise..." The Princess's voice certainly sounded tired, and this was punctuated by a distant sounding yawn. Spike cast a look at the clock on the wall, then sighed through his nose... It was nearly four-thirty in the morning, and by now he could see the faint crack of the coming dawn through the window. They'd been talking for more than three hours, and he hadn't even realized it. "I have enjoyed our conversation, Spike... Please, do feel free to call me anytime." Spike nodded to himself, looking at the phone somewhat dejectedly.

"Of course. Farewell, my lady." Spike offered solemnly.

"Until next time." Orzel's voice responded, and with that the line went quiet. Spike held the handset to his ear for a good ten seconds, then set it on its cradle and tiredly rubbed at his eyes. The boy picked up his plate and quickly placed it in the sink, then wordlessly made his way upstairs to his bedroom. He could probably still get a couple hours in before Twilight woke up, realistically that was really all he'd need. He managed to fall asleep just about as soon as his head hit the pillow, and this time no nightmares rose to disturb him, no fears of the future or concerns of the past... Just blissfully deep sleep.