Wind Makes Water Dance, Making Fire Burn

Chapters

1 The Lord of Wind and Storm
2 Lucky Number Seven
3 Wit Beyond Measure
4 Strangers in the Night
5 This Will Be the Day
6 If I Had A Hammer
7 The Watchtower
8 Burn the Witch

1 The Lord of Wind and Storm

You wouldn’t know it by looking, but the young man sitting at the only functional terminal in the university library was someone extraordinary. Sure, he looked like any college student, in his worn out hoodie, faded jeans, hiking boots, alongside a small pile of snacks to maintain his brain and the energy drink with far more sugar and caffeine than was necessary. He could have writing a term paper, doing research for an essay, or studying up for an exam. (He was in fact doing all three, for your information.) He would pass for any college kid in the nation- if it weren’t for the rifle propped up besides his overstuffed backpack.

The rifle is of little consequence, but having it with him here, in this space, might have some consequence. It could have been an FN SCAR, an AR-15, M1 Garand, an H&K G36, Kalashnikov 47, or any number of combat rifles used the world over. That detail is actually not important. Neither is the fact that there was no round in the chamber and the magazine was empty. And no, there were no bodies strewn across the ground. In spite of the fact the library was as quiet as a tomb, there were no corpses here. No, just a boy, verging on adulthood, listening to some confusion of audio whilst looking up the pertinent points of the Battle of Waterloo.

No, the rifle has no real bearing about what happens next, but having it here, in a place of learning? It says something, doesn;t it? Like why would a school allow their students to open carry on campus? What librarian would even think of letting in a student with a tool of destruction like that? All in good time my friends, all in good time. In the meanwhile, our focus shifts over to the just shy of retirement head librarian, who is moving along the rows of computers in the computer lab, making sure all of the unoccupied units are powered down and ready for the morning. She is in a cloak of fine silk, first green with gold piping, with the emblem of an open book and quill emblazoned on the shoulders. She turns to the sound of a sneeze and sees our young man still hard at work.

“I think that will be enough for today, Mister Ambrose,” The Head Librarian speaks, “if you have any more of those Monsters you’re so fond of, you’ll have more caffeine than you have red blood cells.”

“Sorry, Archivist Habershaw,” the young man, Mr. Ambrose says, “I’m saving now.”

“Good,” Archivist Habershaw replies, “and please tell me your Deathdealer is safe.”

“It should be,” Mr. Ambrose says, doing a press check of the chamber and clearing the mag, “eeyup, unloaded. Though I bet the Primus Legate is going to lay me out on my keister if he finds out.”

“The Primus Legate has no power here,” Mrs. Habershaw says, “if I told him once, I told him a few thousand times, no loaded weapons in my Repository! The scrolls and P-HATs are rife with highly sensitive information and one accidental discharge could damage an ancient treaty or Matron’s Edict. We can’t have that now, eh?”

“No, Archivist,” Mr. Ambrose replies, “Eddie is still in shock after the other day in World History.”

Archivist Habershaw nods, saying, “I swear, Daniel McAllister is trying to forge this institute into a war college.”

“Well, Danny did grow up in Ireland during the era in which the IRA was the height of its power. Some habits, and memories, never die.”

“Hrumph,” The Archivist grumbles, “in case he has forgotten, but Ireland is a long way from here and the IRA is now a footnote in history. His war with the British Parliament, while not completely settled, is at least at truce.”

“I’ll- try telling him that,” Mr. AMbrose said, sweeping his snacks, his long empty Monster can, the spiral bound notebook with his class notes in it, and his pens, into his backpack, “thanks for letting me stay so late. The connection in my dorm is lousy. I have a six month waiting list with House Hephaestus to get it fixed. I’m really hoping it isn’t a service provider issue. I was sure we got that sorted out.”

“When it comes to The Mundanes, anything goes, really,” Archivist Habershaw states, “it is a pleasure to have hosted such a scholar of the world and the arcane with me this night, Mr. Ambrose.”

“Why thank you,” Mr. Ambrose says, blushing, “well, goodnight!”

“Fair night to you,” she says, powering down the now vacant terminal.

Mr. Ambrose walks away, through the stacks of books, past the circulation desk, into the lobby, then outside. The cool air greets him, sending a shiver down his spine. The Sunshine Belt Boy hasn’t acclimated to the weather in this state as of yet. Even the summer heat feels too cool for him. Pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt, Mr. Ambrose marches from the library towards the campus dorms. Shouldering his backpack, and the rifle he was carrying, he strode across the campus green. The school has no security contingent. Members of House Praetorian roam the school after class hours are over, keeping the peace and preventing crimes from happening on campus. There is also a rather sophisticated drone system in place to patrol all the nooks and crannies of the campus grounds with built-in infrared cameras, x-ray filters, stun bolt batteries, and a semi-autonomous artificial intelligence, run by the campus computer network mainframe.

This night, the Praetorian patrols were working the north side of the campus. There had been a small string of incidents involving a peeping tom or somesuch. Mr. Ambrose didn’t expect to meeting with any of the patrols anytime soon, So sure he was of this prospect, that the arrival of a phalanx of Praetorian caused Mr. Ambrose some alarm. An inspection tour? This late?

“Oy, boyo!” came a call from within the phalanx, “stand and deliver.”

“I am the Grand Archmage of House Endymion,” Mr. Ambrose stated, “I’m returning to my dorm to set aside my class work and grab my car keys. That’s if ya’ll don’t mind.”

“Aye, I mind,” said the voice again, “especially if’n yer about the green with an unloaded rifle.”

“Dammit, Danny!” Mr. Ambrose screamed, “this isn’t the middle of Lebanon! Or a bad day in Baghdad! This is middle America! Unless you’re expecting a whole squadron of Adjudicators to come rumbling through the campus just this minute, you’ll let me pass.”

A figure removed itself from the phalanx, passing into a street lamp that hung over the lane separating the green. The figure was clad in black with crimson piping, consisting of an army jack, army pants, army boots, and an ammo belt filled with pouches. A canteen was hung off a belt loop on his right, his left hand holding the strap of a Steyer AUG carbine. Orange hair and green eyes were set in a face still pudgy with baby fat, but there was no mistaking the five o’clock shadow of a red beard framing his jaw. Danny McAllister was on parade today.

“Aye, I would Grand Archmage, me boyo,” Danny said, “if’n ye present yer arms.”

Mr. Ambrose smiled and proceeded to thrust his arms.

“See? These are my arms,” he said.

Danny frowned, “Wrong arms, boyo.”

“Right,” Mr. Ambrose said, lowering said appendages and grabbing the strap of the weapon he was hoisting. With a quick flourish, the Death Dealer Rifle was in a ready-fire position in his hands, safety off, fire selection switch set to three shot burst, flashlight and laser on the accessory rail ignited.

“Not bad, not bad,” Danny said, looking over the hooded young man, “yer form is amazin’, Stevie, me boy! How in all the hells ye ain’t a Praetorian, I can never kiln to.”

Holstering his weapon, Steve answers, “My equilibrium is too great. Most House Praetorian members are at eight percent neutrality. I have no neutrality. You should know this by now.”

“Aye, aye,” Danny laments, “should’na interrogated the Grand Archmage. I’m bettin’ I’ll be answerin’ to yer girl err long.”

“Franky is not my girl,” Steve growls, “she is one my War Mages, nothing more. I admit, she’s far too close for comfort with me, but she’s- egregiously tenacious in that regard. It would require me taking up a lover for her to back off. Even that isn’t fully assured.”

“The lover? Or Franky backing off?” Danny asked.

“Either,” Steve replied, “now, if you don't mind, campus cafeteria is closed and I am rather famished. Slim Jims don’t go nearly as far for me as they may someone else and I want to go into town for fast food.”

“Not that place with kimchi…” Danny sighed.

“No, it’s a submarine shop. They’re still open this late, but not for much longer,” Steve answered, “if I hurry, I can get there before they close.”

“Alright, alright, off with ye then,” Danny retorts, “Ares watch over ye.”

“Hectate keep you safe,” Steve replies, and bounds away.

He was finally at a distance from the Praetorian Phalanx, so he drew upon the winds and sped forward to the dorms. House Endymion, being one of the Academy’s Pillars, has a distinct decor to it's facade. Each dorm for each House does, but the dormitory for a Pillared House has a distinct look all it’s own. It resembles a Victorian mansion, with marble stoop, brass doorknobs, pine shutters over the windows, and silver lamps running down the walkway. The doors are wood inlaid with platinum with the House sigil upon them, waxing and waning crescent moons below the star, Sirius. Yet, it’s exterior is vastly different from it's interior.

Once past the doors, one would find themselves in a labyrinthine complex of shifting walls, perplexing stairwells, and elevators that turned along a tightly fitted shaft akin to a lock’s tumbler system. And everywhere there was space to be had, there was the highest of high tech: hard light displays, touch screen panels, 3D holographic imagery that interacted with passersby. To really navigate this place, one needed to be either a member of House Endymion or lead by a member, otherwise, you were doomed to walk forever lost in The Manse Arcane’s halls.

Steven’s dorm room resided on the top floor; he has no room mate. Besides the now empty Archmage suite across from his, Steve has the whole floor to himself. His suite is mostly tidy, discounting the game console in the center of the room and it's various accessories heaped around it. Otherwise, it is a very homely but inviting room. Steve dumps his backpack and Deathdealer upon his bed; he would need neither of these to go into town. His keys and his smartphone are in the desk situated on the southern wall, where a large plate glass window resides. He powers on the phone, sees a few messages he will need to answer later, and some notifications from Reddit, Instagram, and Tumblr. Distractions for the coming weekend, which he welcomes.

Exiting from his suite, he was about to close the door when a hand clamps on his shoulder. A voice then asks, “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Spinning around with stave in hand and a curse at the ready, Steve is not amused to see War Mage Francesca Martini standing there, giggling like a fool. This was, much to Steve’s consternation, Franky’s favorite way to flirt. Why she flirted with him and not with other members of their house confused him to no end. Franky was a buxom young woman, tall enough to be a fashion model, with bright blonde hair and clear blue eyes. An American bombshell, in other words and so not Steven’s type.

“Maker fuck me raw, Franky,” Steve growled, drawing the curse back and shifting his stave back into his pocket dimension, “must you always be on?”

“But of course!” Franky beams, “It’s who I am, it’s what I do!”

“Right,” Steve dismisses, “well if you don't mind-”

“Hold on there, hot stuff,” Franky interrupts, “where are you going this time of night?”

“Out,” Steve answers simply, “and I don’t remember making you one of my War Mages so you can interrogate me.”

“Maybe not, but it does beggar the question of why you don’t have someone badger you from time to time,” Franky stated.

“I have the Matron for that,” Steve replied, “and the occasional Archivist. I’m not some arrogant toerag, you know? I may be the second most powerful mage on campus but I am no egotist.”

“Sure, whatever,” Franky said, then asked, “where are you going?”

Growling once more, Steve answered, “I’m heading into town. I’m hungry and I want a submarine. And maybe some ice cream.”

“Ah, I see,” Franky said, “gotta keep that girlish figure of yours, huh?”

“See, this is why I try to stay the hell away from you,” Steve groused, “you’re flirtatious and insulting in kind. Now move, I need to get to the garage.”

“The garage?” Franky asked, “Doesn’t House Mason lock all the doors this time of night? Why don't you just run it?”

“Run it?” Steve grouses, “yeah, sure, a quick 200 mile an hour jaunt into town down Old Trottingham Road. Then I can make an attempt to explain to the state troopers why I was moving that fast without a vehicle. Then, I get the dubious pleasure of wiping their memories of the last hour or so and type out a report about the use of magic outside campus. Yeah, whatever could go wrong there?!”

“Okay, okay,” Franky relents, “be lazy and take your car. It’s not like I’m burning a candle for you or something.”

“Oh, you’re burning a candle alright,” Steven mused as he brushed past Franky, “the kind that is scented and made with gold flecks in the wax. May the wick burn down to a stub before you and I become a thing.”

Back down the corridors of the Manse Arcane, then into the basement where the garage access was located and into the brightly lit motor pool of personal vehicles The Academy had. If a student was old enough to drive, they could store a vehicle of any type down here and House Mason would tune it up or kit it out for any occasion. Steve's vehicle of choice was not some ritzy luxury car or swanky SUV. He preferred a more utilitarian form of transport. Tucked under a silver tarp weighted down by tungsten cubes was a Chevrolet Avalanche, custom tuned for performance. The old gas engine had been replaced by a far more efficient hydrogen cell power plant. All the analog gauges in the instrument panel were replaced with hard light holographic displays and the stereo system now had 7.1 surround sound, ambient acoustical enhancement, and one booming subwoofer installed under the center console.

It’s paint was once a faded automotive black, but Steve had it replaced with midnight blue with platinum accents. A substrate of finely spun tungsten, carbon, silicon, and titanium plates were added to the frame that, while making the vehicle heavier, also provided some much needed armor playing. A decal on the rear window and along the back of the tailgate referred to this machine as The Hammer of the Gods. If Steven so choose to do so, he could crank the sound system to its peak and roll down any of the main drags of Canterlot with an overwhelming blast of bass. Also, it’s where he stashed his signature weapon, the grand mastercraft warhammer, Mjolnir. (Yes, that Mjolnir.)

A House Mason machinist saw him striding toward the truck and began gathering the tarp off of it. Steve gave an appreciative nod to the machinist, clicking on his alarm fob to disengage the security system. He stepped into the vehicle, loaded his phone into the cradle that both charged it and accessed the unit's internal storage. The same machinist that took off the tarp had emerged at Steve’s driver side window.

“A little late for a ride, ain’t it Grand Archmage?”

“I know, Archie, but I didn’t want to hit up a vending machine for dinner,” Steven answered, “and I’ve had enough Slim Jims tonight to stop up an elephant. Well, a carnivorous elephant.”

“Been there, done that,” Archie the Machinist said, “I’ll get the doors for you.”

“Thanks, Archie,” Steve said, “keep the lights on for me?”

“Well, they’ll be on, but not for you,” Archie answered, “rush job came in an hour ago. The General Surgeon is having issues with his Malibu. Something shimmying in his front tires, I don’t know. Head Machinist is giving it a once over, just to be sure.”

“Kevin is a friend of mine,” Steve said, “he isn’t one to make idle complaints about his car. He usually chalks it up to his driving if nothing else. If he says it shimmys, nine times of ten, he’s right.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Archie said, “anyway, we’ll be here till after midnight or so. You’re not Cinderella on us, are ya?”

“Nah, just a quick jaunt into Canter for some sandwich and cream. Pick you up anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Archie replied, “Momma made cannolis today. My level of Vitamin Mozzarella has exceeded all known safety standards.”

“Alright, alright, how about I pick up some Coke or something for you guys?” Steve asked, “if you all are going to be after the Witching Hour, I bet ya’ll could use the caffeine.”

“I’ll let Head know,” Archie says, “she’ll appreciate some gogo juice with what we have going on.”

“True that,” Steve said and started up his Avalanche, “catch ya later, Archie!”

Steve waved to his Machinist friend and drove out the now open Garage doors into the night.

Sunset Shimmer was bored. No, scratch that, she was very, very bored. It was eleven twenty three at night and her shift ended at two in the morning. She had wiped down the tables, refilled the soda fountain of soda and ice, refilled the napkin dispensers, cleaned the floor, mopped the bathrooms and taken out all the trash. She already had her federally mandated meal of the night, a veggie sandwich with some provolone cheese. She probably could gulp down another Sprite, but her bladder was filled to capacity. She didn’t think that was a good option in her condition. The condition of needing to empty her bladder.

Her good friend Rainbow Dash was singing some annoying pop song and frying up bacon (an inside joke of her group of friends,) while cutting open bread loafs for future/potential customers. The third member of the graveyard shift losers club here at Dive! Dive! Submarines* was one Chastity White, who was currently occupying the employee water closet. She had a convenience store burrito before her shift and now she was plagued with Montezuma’s Revenge. The reserved but professional girl was the glue that kept Rainbow’s health nut enthusiasm and Sunset’s teenaged ennui from turning the shop into a smoldering ruin. Granted, all three girls needed this job; living in Canterlot City was not cheap and Sunset needed to put gas in her motorcycle. From where she lived, getting to school and back was not a proposition to be undertaken on foot.

Sunset also had a data plan bill to pay and Dive! Dive! Submarines was willing to pay her. It was just minimum wage, but $11.50 an hour was pretty good pay for a niche sandwich shop. And they had some of the best breads in town, so there was that. The added benefit of being hired along with one of her friends meant that boredom was hard pressed to be found. That was until they got the late evening shift and then, Hello Ennui, my old friend. Now they were getting paid to handle and close the shop all their own. Thankfully, it was just on the weekends and since Friday night technically was a weekend, here they were.

Sunset was ruminating on how different the economies of this world compared to Equestria, when her station’s security camera recorded a vehicle in the drive through. A spruced up truck, of all things. It fit the overhang of the drive through but just barely. It would be a small miracle if the driver could use the mike on the menu. She gave a slight signal to Rainbow Dash, who stopped what she was doing to arrange her station for the making of sandwiches. The SUnset depressed the button on her portal mike box to speak to the driver.

“Ahoy, Captain!” Sunset said, feigning a chipper attitude, “And welcome to Dive! Dive Submarines (And More!) How may I take your order?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll take a meatball marinara sub, a Napoleon Complex**, a medium Pepsi, and a bag of Cheddar Ruffles, please.”

“That’s a meatball marinara, a Napoleon Complex, a medium Pepsi, and a bag of Cheddar Ruffles? Will there be anything else, Captain?”

“Is your malt machine still working tonight?” the customer asked.

“Indeed it is, Captain!” Sunset replied, “what flavor would you like?”

“Mocha, please,” the driver stated, “and make it large.”

“Aye, aye!” Sunset said, relaying the order to her Point of Sale machine and ringing up the total, “That will be $13.59, Captain. Please drive to the window.”

“Aye!”

The closest sub shop in Canterlot was just off Old Trottingham Road and down a length of commercial property often called the Livery by Canterlot locals. It was not the furthest removed district in town, but was a haven for the high schoolers of Canterlot High. Steve didn’t find himself down here often. He had been in accelerated learning since he started at Imperial Academy and at age sixteen was looking at receiving his doctorate in history and political sciences. (Or at least, that was what his course of study was on paper, to satisfy the state and federal lawmakers. His real course was the Path Arcane, of which he graduated quite some time ago. But I digress…)

He didn’t think he would fit in with average high schoolers, let alone anyone in his age range. Beyond his prodigious intellect, he was also plagued by Asperger's Syndrome, a high functioning form of autism. The land of teenagers was a realm of landmines in the form of sarcasm laced barbs, fashion trends, and odd assortment of auditory chaos. Steve was a fish out of water in that territory, since he preferred a more sedate lifestyle than most of his peers. (A fact that irked Franky Martini to no end.) He had hoped age would rectify that, but he was now certain he was mistaken.

Now driving into the drive-thru of the one sandwich shop close to the Academy, Steve stopped at the line that indicated where he should. The menu was lit up but grungy due to sun blasted glass and melted plastic, plus a build up of dead moth carcasses. He could still read the options available, but he did need to engage his mage senses to do so with any ease. The microphone looked like it was state of the art in 1958; it didn’t resemble the kind of sound capture systems the Academy had available. So, with a subtle nudge of magic, Steve connected directly to the primary sound-to-electricity coil of the mike to speak with the operator of the drive through. When he placed his order and was told his total, he drove up to the window prescribed.

A little more power to his mage senses told Steve that there were three people on duty tonight at Dive! Dive! Submarine (And More!) sandwich shop. ALl females, his senses informed him, all around his age. Looking past the smeared glass of the window, he saw a rather cute girl with golden skin, a mop of fiery hair streaked with gold, and wearing the sailor suit and cap of the shop’s chosen theme. Like most any other fast food worker in this age of plague, she had a flu mask on over her mouth and nose. When she slid the window back to take his payment, he saw a break glimpse of her eyes, which borne her boredom even if she did have a smile on her face behind the mask. He placed his debit card in the tray she provided and withdrew back inside. She returned a few moments later with his card and a receipt, both of which he took. The debit card went back into his wallet, the receipt went into his glove box.

After a few minutes, the Matchstick Girl came back with his order in a cellophane bag. She thanked him (in the customary goodbye of the shop’s theme, “Come back aboard, Captain!”) He placed this bag into the passenger seat of his truck and began to drive off. Yet, something nagged at his senses… Once more deploying his mage senses to maximum power and range, he felt no hostile forces in range- but he did detect arcane sources in the vicinity. Peering back towards the shop, he saw that two of the girls in the shop (the ginger and an unseen girl working the sandwich counter,) had powerful arcane sources. Albeit, they operated on a different wavelength than the magic he was used to using. A fourth school of magic? He asked himself. An investigation would need to be started but that would be a problem for Future Steven, as Present Steven was drooling over the salami picante of his Napoleon Complex.

“Huh,” Sunset breathed, watching the once stopped “Hammer of the Gods” roll out of the parking lot.

“What?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Did you feel something? Just now?” Sunset said.

“Nope. Well, I don’t think so,” Rainbow replied.

“Hmm, might have been nothing,” Sunset mused, as the employee bathroom opened to a very embarrassed Chastity.

“Oh, thanks Sunny for covering the drive!” Chastity said, “this is so unbecoming of me. Note to self, no more food from the corner store!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Rainbow cheered.

“Same,” Sunset added, “and if you’ll excuse me, I need to tinkle in the toilet before I tinkle in my pants.”

“TMI, SUNNNY! TMI!” Rainbow shouted.

Author's Note

*Dive! Dive! Submarines (And More!) is a nautical theme restaurant. Most fo the main menu items are named after great sea battles of the modern era or after great naval captains and/or admirals. The uniform for this establishment is a seaman's watch cap, and a modified sailor's uniform (so as to differ from the American Naval Dress Uniform Standard or something,) with boys in pleated slacks and girls in skirts.
**The Napoleon Complex is a foot long submarine with Black Forest Ham, Pepperoni, Salami, and two strips of turkey bacon, with your choice of cheese, dressings, and veggies. Steve orders his with Honey Mustard, Miracle Whip, lettuce, tomato, pickles, red onions, and green peppers and a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese. He has melted provolone added to it, as well.

You can thank shortskirtsandexplosions for giving me the impetus for this story as well sas the visage of his oc, Chastity White. (Who will be as much a flaming lesbian in this story as she is in 'Ma'am, this is a Wendy's'.")

2 Lucky Number Seven

Hunger was what drove Steve from his comfortable bedroom biome. He normally stocked his in suite pantry with some easily cooked staples, but he did not have the chance to order more yet. A trip to the local supermarket may have been in order, but the cattle car environment of such a place frightened Steve to no end. He would need to get online sometime today and order groceries through Amazon or something.

Quickly donning his robes, socks, and boots, Steve left The Manse Arcane, power walking with what little energy he had that early in the morning for the campus cafeteria. There would be plenty to sate his hunger there, and some of the best coffee in town. He had a feeling he would need to fill up on Vitamin Caffeine before long. The arcane sources he detected late last night be one reason for imbibing in black gold.

A few minutes out of the Manse and barely twenty meters from the cafeteria itself, Steve encountered the one complication in his morning he could have done without. Matron Meghan Willimas was coming in his direction, on a perpendicular intercept course with her gaggle of House Majesty retainers. Granted, it would be hard to describe the twelve or more girls of ages fifteen to eighteen as retainers, but they could wreck hell on anyone foolish enough to acost Meghan, so the beautiful faces and statuesque bodies were highly effective camouflage.

Upon seeing the subject of her inquiry, Meghan sped up her pace, as did her retinue, eventually walking parallel to Steve. The Majestic Horde, as they were sometimes referred as, demonstrated a perfect v-formation around the pair as they strode to the cafeteria. Steven’s nerves lit up, but he did his best to school his features. Meghan was very good at reading moods, often relying on said moods to best question her subjects.

“Good morning, Grand Archmage,” Meghan said, “it is a good morning, isn’t it?”

“It’s Saturday, so yes, it’s as good a morning as it could get,” Steven replied, “you heading for breakfast?”

“Oh, yes,” Meghan answered, “I’m in the mood for some waffles. I could also go for a cappuccino right about now.”

“My Matron,” one of the Horde nearby said, “the sugar?”

“I’ll be fine,” Meghan stated, “I tested rather well this morning, so a small cuppa shouldn’t raise my glucose that high.”

“Should get some fruit in you, too,” Steven said, “might help mitigate the sugar rush.”

“I’ll consider it,” Meghan reposed, “an apple and a banana sound good right about now.”

“Eeyup,” Steve said, “correct me if I’m wrong, Matron, but is there a reason you made a beeline for me this morning?”

“Well, I did have a purpose in catching up with you,” Meghan stated, “I have a report that says you cast last night. Not once, but twice. Care to explain?”

“I used my mage senses,” Steve answered, “it was late enough at night where I assumed doing so wouldn’t cause any major issues.”

“It doesn’t seem so,” Meghan retorted, “but you touched upon something, didn’t you?”

Steve nodded, saying, “I picked up a pair of arcane sources, very cleverly masked, but there all the same.”

“Arcanus Sapiens?” Meghan inquired.

“Nope,” Steve answered, “something else. A wholly different wavelength. A foreign energy, methinks. Like what happened a year ago…”

“That massive burst of arcane energy?” Meghan asked.

“Indeed, similar,” Steevn stated, “powerful, too, but operating under different principals. Not any school of magic we know or practice here.”

“Are they in danger of breaching?” Meghan asked breathlessly, “could they be targeted?”

“Given how they were masked, I doubt it,” Steve said, “it did take me two passes with my mage senses to detect it. I’m of the opinion that any Adjudicator in the region is going to give them a glance and pass on by. Their sources are passively emitting, not actively. They should be safe for the time being, but I would suggest a further investigation. If the Quorum could be convened and would approve of such, that is.”

“I’ll speak with the other Heads of House and confirm,” Meghan stated, “in the meantime, can you put out feelers? See if you can learn more remotely?”

“I’ll try but it’ll need to be during the week. I have a term paper due on Monday and my brain is in desperate need of caffeine.”

“Then, I’ll leave you to it,” Meghan beamed, “how much have you done?”

“Approxiamtely 50%,” Steven said, “got my essay on World History sorted last night, which means I won’t be working on two typing projects this weekend.”

“Thank the Maker for that,” Meghan breathed.

“Indeed.”

The tires of Sunset’s motorcycle hugged the asphalt of Canterlot City streets perfectly. Traffic was light and the day was clear. Had she thought she could get away with it, the former unicorn would have opted to ride without a bike helmet. It has been an age since she felt the wind blow through her mane and discounting the few times she rode horses in Applejack’s orchard (a strange but exhilarating concept for an Equestrian in self imposed exile,) there were few means by which Sunset could experience such a phenomenon. As a law abiding citizen, though, she couldn’t just forgo her molded plastic defense against concussions and road rash, so she wore it. She did keep the visor up; at the speeds she was riding, the possibility of a bug strike was very low.

Sunset’s destination was Sugarcube Corner. She and her friends congregated there every weekend, often just to hang out, but also study, do homework and occasionally gossip. (That was more Rarity’s preferred pastime, for Sunset had given it up after her Magic Demon phase.) While she was happy to be in the presence of her six friends, something about the night before bothered her. That young man in the truck, The Hammer of The Gods if she recalled correctly, there was something about him she could not yet place. She wanted to place him as a fellow Equestrian, but his red hair and dark green eyes were all too human to file into that category.

Then where did that pulse of magic come from? She asked herself, the humans don't have any magic. Wait, do they have magic? Twilight assured me that the only magic people have is based on smoke and mirrors, illusions. And the daredevil act, which is kind of lame. I’m certain that was magic, though! Then why didn’t Rainbow Dash sense it? She had her pendant on her, just like I did. Now I wish I had made contact with that guy. Maybe I would have more answers for whatever that was.

Her musings dropped off as she came within sight of her destination. She could see Applejack’s family pick up and Rarity’s convertible parked outside. Rainbow typically got around on a skateboard, a bike or sometimes with rollerblades. Fluttershy may have driven in her VW Beetle, but also may have gotten a ride from her brother in his panel van. (Sunset thought of it as The Creeper-mobile.) Pinkie lived and worked at Sugarcube Corner, so she didn’t need any transport; Twilight usually took the municipal bus everywhere, unless Rarity of Fluttershy offered a ride.

Sunset took her bike around the corner, coasting to the nearest street lamp. There, she braked, jumped off her bike, then took out a set of chains from the storage compartment under her seat. The chains wrapped around the steering column and driving forks to attach to the lamp post, before weaving in and around the spokes of the front tire. The chain was secured with a heavy padlock, which required a round security key to open. Sunset knew that such a lock could be forced open, but she took the security of her one and only mode of transportation very seriously. To further deter any motorcycle thieves, she pulled from her storage compartment a tire boot (a commercial one she found on the internet,) and attached it to the rear tire.

Assured her bike wouldn’t go anywhere, Sunset took off her helmet, strode to the bakery her friends were already gathered, and entered inside. Passing over the threshold, she saw five of her friends seated at their favorite corner spot, drinks already in hand. Pinkie was behind the counter, already preparing Sunset favorite latte, humming along to the music piped into the store dining area via satellite. Today was a Songbird Serenade marathon, not that Sunset minded. That girl had a set of pipes on her and many of the songs in her catlog of music sat favorited in Sunset’s smartphone.

“HEYA, SUNNY!” Pinkie beamed, bearing one steaming cup of caffeine in Sunset’s direction, “you’re just in time!”

“Aren’t I always?” Sunny replied, taking the drink, sniffing the concoction within and sighing, “Ah! Hello, Caffeine, My Old Friend…”

“Isn’t that a song by Simon and Garfunkel?” Pinkie asked bemused, “No, wait, that’s ‘Sound of Silence.’”

“Pinkie,” Sunset laughed, now very familiar with the paradoxical girl’s non sequiturs, “thanks for the drink.”

“No problem, Sunny Buns!” Pinkie exclaimed, returning to the counter singing about herself and brains.

“I see Pinkie is in rare form,” Twilight said, as Sunset approached, “I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of some of the things she says and does.”

“DON’T.” The others retort, to much giggling.

Sunset was greeted with hugs as she joined the rest of the girls, sans Pinkie, and sat nestled between Applejack and Fluttershy. A conversation that was taking place before Sunset arrived was just winding down; it was Rarity who spoke to Sunset once the idle chatter died down.

“So, darling, how was work last night?” The fashionista asked, “I can’t imagine that it was very exciting. The graveyard shift is an apt name for such a tedious work schedule. Did you at least meet anyone interesting?”

“I’m not sure I could call them interesting,” Sunset began, “there was that one guy, though…”

“A guy?” Rarity rasped, “tell me more!”

“There isn’t much to tell, Rarity,” Sunset explained, “it was around eleven or so. Some guy in a truck stopped by for a pair of sandwiches, some chips, a soda, and some ice cream. A mocha amlt, I think.”

“Oh, yeah, that guy,” Rainbow commented, “it was kinda a nice truck, but seriously, ‘Hammer of The Gods?’ Ego much?”

“That there is pot callin’ kettle black,” Applejack retorted, “ya’ll rember what kinda truck it was? Anythin’ like mine?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Sunset answered.

“Forge the truck!” Rarity roared, “what about the guy?!”

“Well, I don’t remember much,” said Sunset, recalling all of last night, “red hair, green eyes, kinda pasty, glasses. It was hard to tell with the light, but he may have worked out.”

“An’ the truck?” Applejack asked.

“Some old thing, I think,” Sunset replied, “there were plastic bits on it, around the back window and front of the bed. It had a custom paint job, like Rainbow said, that called it ‘the hammer of the gods,’ whatever that means.”

“Dang,” Applejack cursed, “don't sound like any pick I ever seen.”

“That kinda sounds familiar, though,” Pinkie said, appearing just then.

“What does?” Rainbow asked.

“The truck Sunny just described,” Pinkie said, “gimme a minute…”

Thumbing through her smartphone, Pinkie quickly searches for something until she comes upon with an exclaimed, “AHA!”

“Check this out!” Pinkie beams, showing her screen to her assembled friends. An image is shown of Pinkie’s oldest sister, Maud Pie, clad in work gear, shovel in hand, while the maudlin sister’s geology colleagues meander about in the background. Situated in the midground, just behind Maud, is a vehicle very similar to the one Sunset saw the night before.

“That’s it!” Sunset said, “well, it’s close. That one looks like a stock vehicle. The one I encountered last night was some customized machine.”

“Ah, gotcha!” Pinkie said, “that’s a Chevy Avalanche. My sister liked the name and bought it with her first geologist paycheck. She calls it Boulder 2! That maud, what a kidder!”

“I done heard of them,” Applejack adds, “not a popular line, that un. The Silverado outsold by a lot. I don’t remember when they stopped makin’ ‘em.”

“Chevrolet stopped production of the Avalanche model back in April of 2013,” Twilight said, adding, “from the description you gave us Sunset, I’d say it was a first generation model. Those had a light gray, plastic body cladding that certain customers hated because it faded pretty badly when exposed to summer sun and heat.”

“Huh,” Sunset mused, “that ‘cladding’ looked pretty new, from what I saw. Though, his were of a platinum color than light gray. Maybe he had it replaced?”

“I don;t know if that;’s possible,” Twilight explained, “there were no aftermarket kits for such a thing back then.”

“Geeze, Twilight, I know you were you bookwork and a know-it-all, but I never took you for a gearhead,” Rainbow commented.

“Actually, I just read that from off of Wikipedia,” Twilight squeaked.

“So, no romantic encounters at the drive through?” Rarity lamented.

“Sorry Rarity,” Sunset apologized, “though, there was something else.”

“What was it, Sunset?” Fluttershy asked.

“You’re not going to go about that thing, are ya?” Rainbow muttered.

“Thing?” Rarity inquired, :what ‘thing?’”

“There-” Sunset began, before looking around the cafe to see if there were any listening ears; there were none.

“As that guy was leaving, I sensed something pass over me and Rainbow,” Sunset explained, “Rainbow says she didn’t feel anything, but I’m pretty sure he was using magic.”

A collective gasp left the group as everyone took that bit of information in.

“Equestrian magic?” Twilight whispered.

“I don’t think so,” Sunset answered, “my pendant didn’t respond to it. Neither did Rainbow’s, I think.”

“Nope, no magical activation from my pendant,” Rainbow confirmed.

“But, I thought,” Fluttershy started, “I thought humans didn’t have magic. Isn’t that right, Twilight?”

“That’s been my running hypothesis,” the knowledgeable girl said, “granted, my sample size is rather small, but no one in Canterlot seems to possess any magic. So unless it’s Equestrian in origin…”

“My word, this has turned out into more an ordeal than I thought,” Rarity opined.

“You said it, Rares,” Applejack said, “what we do now?”

“I’m not sure there’s much we can do,” Sunset replied, “I Know we don’t want a repeat of the Wallflower or Camp Everfree incidents, so we’ll need to keep our eyes out for any strange occurrences.”

“I still have the schematics for my prototype magic scanner,” Twilight added, “I can tweak a few things here and there, and remove the magic siphoning component. That should give us an idea if there is any magic being cast nearby.”

“Are you sure you can get rid of that siphoning ability?” Sunset asked, remembering the Friendship Games.

“I know I can,” Twilight answered, “I went over the design with my- other self, and we concluded what actually caused the scanner to start sucking up magic. I can say with 95% certainty that it will not do that ever again.”

“I think I can live with a five percent certainty,” Sunset agreed, “meanwhile, I think I should write to Princess Twilight and see if she knows anything about magic existing before I turned up here. She may be able to stumble upon some ancient tomes or pre-Equestrian scrolls that have our answers.”

“I guess in the meantime, we should be on the lookout for crazy mumbo-jumbo stuff, right?” Rainbow asked.

“Right,” Sunset confirmed, “but don’t go looking for trouble. If any find anything or anyone that looks suspicious, sound out a group text but don’t engage them. They could be dangerous.”

“That boy from last night didn’t hurt you, right, Sunset?” Fluttershy queried.

“No,” Sunset replied, “but with magic, you never know.”

3 Wit Beyond Measure

Have you ever witnessed a tourist going through your town? The way that they gawk at everything, how everyplace and thing you typically take for granted is something new, something wondrous in their eyes? The kind of reactions that make you moan, internally or externally? Yeah, Sweetie Belle Carousel is seeing this at just this moment.

She and her two friends, Applebloom Apple and Scootaloo, were out doing Cutie Mark Crusader activities. The bulk of these activities were in the sale of Crusader Cookies, arguably the best sweets made in town, though a debate could be made in regard to anything Sugarcube Corner could make. They were all dressed in their Crusader uniforms, and gleefully selling cookies to passersby.

The “tourist” in question was a girl of about their age, Sweetie Belle assumed. Ang, boy, what a get up she had on. If Little Miss Toffet, Pippy Longstocking, and Daring Do had been mashed together in a genetic experiment gone wrong, then this girl was the result. (Sweetie's older sister would have a conniption fit about the girls attire, let alone the cane that reminded Sweetie of a shepherd.) This girl was gawking at everything in town, like it was her first time here. The pinks in her clothes did nothing to make her blend in with the Canterlot crowd, though there were a few people whose skin tone matched a few pieces.

As the buyers thinned out around the diminishing stock of Crusader Cookies the trio had, Sweetie noticed the girl looking at them. As the last customer walked away with their confections, the girl stepped up to the trio, a bright smile on her face, plus a spring (or two) in her step. Sweetie took in her form, as well as the almost comically large handbag the girl was carrying. It would put anything Rarity had to shame.

“Top o’ th’ mornin to ya!” The girl beamed, “is’n too late fer me to grab some cookies? I’m right starved after skimping on bre’kf’st this mornin’.”

“Uhh,” Scootaloo began, “I think so?”

“Well, do ya ‘r dontcha?” The girl inquired, “I have pocket money burnin’ a hole in me satchel. Imma cravin’ sugar of the baked variety, if’n ya catch me meanin’.”

“Applebloom, are you catching anything this girl is saying?” Scootaloo asked her country compatriot.

“I think so,” Applebloom replied, “sounds like she wants cookies.”

“Aye, lassie, I do!” The girl confirmed.

“Well, uh,” Sweetie added, “we have some Starswirl Gingerbread cookies left… Uh, some Smart Cookie Cookies (that’s a little on the nose,) and some Clover Clever Mallow Bars. Sorry, that’s all we have left.”

“The gingerbread, please,” the girl stated, “cuz of me ginger head!”

“Uh, sure,” Applebloom complied, finding the last few boxes of the gingerbread cookies, “that’ll be $20.”

“Right ye are!” the girl exclaimed, then digging in her satchel, she produced a pair of crisp ten dollar bills. She handed them over the Scootaloo, who was manning their strongbox/till, and took the cookies with eager fingers.

“Aye, me boyos, yer goin’ right into me belly!” the girl stated.

“Hey,” Sweetie said as the girl happily retreated from them, “I don’t think I’ve seen you in town before. We know all the girls our age, but we’ve never seen you before.”

“Oh, right,” the girl replied, “I dunno get out inta the town much. Me brother is goin’ to throw a right fit once he learns where I’ve been. I’m Molly, Molly McAllister.”

“Oh, nice,” Sweetie Belle said, “I’m Sweetie Belle. These are my friends, and fellow Crusaders, Applebloom and Scootaloo.”

“Howdy!”

“Hey!”

“Allo!” Molly cried, “say, you lot live here in town, no? Are ye busy right now?”

“Ta be honest, no,” Applebloom answered, “we were only goin’ to be sellin’ cookies and sweets for an hour ‘r two, then head on home. Applejack ain’t needin’ me on th’ farm today, so I’m free. And we do have the day off, cuz it’s Saturday… Scoots, are you doin’ anythin’?”

“Can’t say that I am,” replied Scootaloo, “Sweetie Belle?”

“I have a six o’ clock curfew,” Sweetie informed them, “and my mom said I should return home as soon as I was done here… but Rarity is in a crafting session for a new client. I really shouldn’t disturb her, so- yeah, I have the afternoon!”

“Brilliant, it’s settled!” Molly beamed, “so, what do girls our age do on a Saturday aft’rnoon?”

All eyes turned on Applebloom, who, as an unwritten rule amongst the trio, was the de facto leader, while the young farm girl pondered.

“I might have an idea or two…”

“YEEHAW!”

“THIS IS AWESOME!”

“I THINK I’M GOING TO BE SICK!”

“AS’M I AND IT’S FECKIN’ BRILLIANT!

The challenge had been issued: spin the merry-go-round as fast you could then hang on for dear life. Molly had the first turn of the quartet, and her attempt was middling at best. Scootaloo had the next turn and she certainly gave it her all; it was enough to turn Sweetie Belle and Molly green. Sweetie went third and- well, it was a well meaning attempt but her heart, well her arms, weren’t really in it. Applebloom was Tail-end Charlie and- well, the girls were very close into entering a parallel dimension right now.

The whole playground at Canterlot Central Park were watching the girls spin so quickly, their forms were melding into a splotch of brown. Cheers were heard from the older kids in the crowd, while the young ones watch in rapt awe. Let it never be said that Applebloom was a weak girl. Hours and hours of picking apples and hauling bushels around had given the upper body strength of roughly a defensive lineman. Granted, that was nothing to the feats her older sister or brother could do, but it was mighty impressive all the same.

“UH-OH!” Scootlaoo warned, "THINGS ARE GETTING- WOBBBLLLLYYYYY!”

“ABANDON SHIP!” Sweetie Belle cried.

All four girls launched themselves from their conveyance with all the alacrity they could muster. Their trajectories put them into the sandbox adjacent to the merry-go-round, but given their exit velocity, they may as well slammed into a stack of two-by-fours. None of the quartet escaped their doom without a fit of nausea; Sweetie, once the world stopped spinning enough for her to stand, retched over the sandbox’s side. Applebloom tried to stand, was upright for a moment, fell, stood again, became unbalanced, fell again. Scootaloo was uninterested in moving, as evidenced by her lying in the sand, barely breathing. For all she knew, her eyeballs were spinning around in her sockets. Molly, though, was cackling, as though she had finally lost what sanity she had.

“Oh, lordee, oh jeezus, methinks I’m goin’ vom!” Molly wheezed.

“In the grass please,” Scootaloo moaned, “I’m still seeing the world through a kaleidoscope…”

“I can’t stand,” Applebloom lamented, “I don’t know whatever possessed us to do that.”

“Not so loud,” Sweetie Belle squeaked, “my brain is trying to leak through my ears. All the sounds- hurt!”

“Oi, you lassies are a regular riot, I says,” Molly wheezed, “cannae get that kind o’ value back at th’ Academy! Ha-ha!”

“Academy?” Scootaloo asked, her eyes now capable of focusing on permeable objects, “you mean Crystal Prep?”

“Nay,” Molly said, “not them nonces. Imperial Academy, to th’ west! Great big for’st all ‘round, nary any civilization for several county miles!”

“That- actually sounds like it might be fun,” Sweetie Belle said, now fully recovered, “but you said you don’t have any kids your age out there.”

“Aye,” Molly replied, sitting up, sand still clinging to her strange pinafore, “at least, none that think they can stand aside me, given me position.”

“Position?” Scootaloo asked, “What are you? Captain of some club or sports team?”

“Eh, something of a kind,” Molly answered, though to Sweetie Belle, that answer seemed like a dodge.

“MOLLY CATHERINE ELIZABETH MCALLISTER, IF’N I FIND YA BEFORE YOU FIND ME, IMMA TANNIN’ YER HIDE!”

“What the-?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Ugh, ‘tis me brother,” Molly replied, “an’ he used me full name. Imma in the creek now.”

“Why is he so mad?” Applebloom asked.

“Let’s just say, Imma not old enough to go out onto the town by meself,” Molly explained, “me brother is kind enough to me, but he is adamant that I dunnae come in Canterlot without him or me step-sister in two. He’ll have me at a right two-an’-eight if I dunnae come to him first.”

“Do you know where he is?” Sweetie asked.

Molly closed her eyes, put on a face of ure concentration, before her eyes sprang open. When she spoke, her voice sounded far off, like she was speaking from beyond their current environs.

“Down the street, ‘round the corner, his car is parked across from a shop that sells sofas. And pens? That dunnae make a lick o’ sense…!”

“Quills and Sofas!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, “you remember? Old Mr. Davenport’s shop?”

“You mean the place we can’t set foot in after we accidentally burned down three of his sofas?”

“How in the bloody ‘ell did you lot do that?” Molly queried.

“It’s a long story, so don’t ask,” Applebloom said.

“We know a shortcut,” Sweetie offered, “so that you don't get into any more trouble than you already have.”

“Imma linkin’ that idea,” Molly beamed, “shall we be off?”

Danny McAllister hated the idea of borrowing his step-sister’s Escalade. Sure, it was a comfortable ride, with one bangning sound system, and all the doodads and whatsits one could ask for. But Danny was a more practical man, who preferred a more sensible mode of transit. He was hard pressed to part with his Gold Wing, but Molly was small enough that she could slide right off it. Also, with Meghan along for the ride, the three of them wouldn’t fit, even if the motorbike’s seat was made for cruising with oversized people. (Meghan’s insistence that come along for this retrieval necessitated the large, spacious SUV, seeing as the both of them were carrying their personal firearms and the Escalade was fitted with armor plating and bullet proof glass.)

Another thing he hated was the deception his kid sister pulled on him. Sure, she was almost a teenager now, but given her intellect, she was also prone to gullibility. Who knew what villain would suggest she do in the sake of having a bit of fun or for some treat she could get wholesale back at the Academy? Mark his words, Molly McAllister was going to feel it when she went to bed tonight. His mother made him promise he would protect his little sister with everything he had. Those were the last words she said to him before the Adjudicators- no, not going back there. Too much pain, too much anger, it was a wound still fresh and seeping for him.

“Any luck?” came a voice from the car.

“Nay,” Danny answered, “if’n she ain’t here in five minutes, Imma searchin’ fer her an if-”

“Danny!” came Molly’s voice from around the corner.

“H-e-double-lacrosse-sticks, Molly, where th' D’vil have ya been?!”

Molly approached her angered half-brother, alongside three girls Danny didn’t know. The three were in some club uniform of some sort, one of the kiddy civilian organizations that Molly sometimes pesters him about. What was the name-?

“Excuse, Mr. Danny?”

“Eh?” the boy in question bemused.

“Hi. We’re, uh, we’re friends of your sister, Molly,” the girl said, with the puffy hair style that seemed to defy gravity.

“Oi, are ye now,?” Danny asked, “an’ what be yer names, eh?”

“I’m Applebloom.”

“I’m Scootaloo.”

“I’m Sweetie Belle!”

“I’m still hungry.”

“Molly,” Danny said to his little sister, but then a door opened and closed. From around the front of the SUV stepped a young woman, wrapped in a chrysanthemum kimono, a silver circlet woven into her blonde tresses. She carried herself with pose, grace, and power. The Crusaders watched as Danny and Molly bowed their heads in her presence.

“Hello,” the young woman said, “I’m Meghan, Molly’s older half sister. I do hope my baby sister wasn't causing you any trouble.”

“Ma- Meghan!” Molly seethed, not daring to look up.

“Not at’ll!” Applebloom offered, "Molly is actually the first friend we done made outside o’ Canterlot!”

“She's fun!” Scootaloo said.

“She bought the last of our Swirlswirl the Bearded Gingerbread cookies!” Sweetie Belle added.

“Oh, did she now?” Meghan asked, “well, I do hope she has room for her dinner. We’re having her favorite, chicken cattoire, and I was going to remind her earlier that for desert, we have strawberry sherbet.”

“No, not strawberry sherbet…!”

“Well, I don’t think that will be a problem,” Sweetie Belle opined.

“Why not?” Meghan asked.

“Well, Molly didn't really get into her cookies,” Sweetie explained, “she only had two from her first box before we decided to go to the park-”

“And go down th’ slide-” Applebloom added.

“Jump roped,” Scootaloo said.

“And eventually rode the merry-go-round. With less than stellar results,” Sweetie completed.

“Is- is this true, Molly?” Meghan asked of her sister.

“Y-y-yes, everythin’.”

“Well, I’ll say,” Meghan beamed, “that’s- actually more exercise in a few hours than Molly has gotten all year!”

“Meghan?!” Danny asked.

“Danny, you know as well as I do that Molly doesn't have any peers her age,” Meghan began, “and the training facilities at The Academy are more about conditioning than fun. It’s good to hear that Molly enjoyed herself and made some new friends! Otherwise, she’d just be glued to the monitor in her dorm room coding and getting a gamer’s tan. You- are her friends, right?”

“Darn tootin’!” Applebloom offers, before a blush forms over her face, her hands fly to her mouth, and she adds, “pardon my French.”

“I think Molly has heard worse,” Meghan laughs, “either from myself or her brother.”

“OI!” Danny yells, “donnae be ropin’ me in with this!”

“Come on, Danny,” Meghan begs, “you can't look me in the eye and tell you haven’t cursed a few times in Molly’s presence?”

“I- well- What I mean is-” Danny sputtered, “confound you, woman.”

“That’s what I thought,” Meghan smiled, “well, that’s it for you today, young lady! You gave Danny and I a combined cardiac infarction. No note! No itinerary!! You didn’t bring your Lantern! Scared me half to death… How did you even get here?”

“I walked to the bus stop,” Molly answered in a subdued tone, “caught that inta town.”

“Huh,” Meghan huffed, “well, this one time, and only this one time, you will be forgiven this indiscretion. Seeing as you made some friends and actually had some exercise, I think we can bypass a grounding. But there had better not be a recurrence, you hear me?”

“Aye, Matron,” Molly breathed, “I’ll go through prop’r channels.”

“Alright then,” Meghan said, relieved, “Applebloom, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, thank you for taking care of my sister. I hope she wasn’t too much of a handful.”

“Will, uh,” Scootaloo stammered, “will we ever see Meghan again?”

“Maker willing, yes,” Meghan answered, “also provided Molly behaves herself in the near future. I have no doubt you three know what that’s like.”

All three girls nodded, with Sweetie Belle and Appleblom raining a small torrent of sand.

“Then I see no problem with her visiting with you again. Maybe for a whole day!” Meghan said, “but for now, we need to get home and eat, as I have no doubt you all must.”

“You got that right,” Scootaloo said, “my aunts are going to kill me if I’m late for dinner again.”

“Then we have an agreement,” Meghan stated, “ta-ta for now! Don’t go getting yourselves in trouble, okay?”

“OKAY!”

With that, Meghan got into the passenger side of the SUV. Danny hopped into the driver’s seat, and Molly hopped in behind Danny. Sweetie was unsure if the other girls saw, but there was a guy sitting just behind Meghan- and Molly was utterly surprised to see him there. All Sweetie Belle can digest before the door closed and the SUV drove off, was a mop of red hair and glasses. And a hammer, for some reason…

The Escalade had just reached the city limites when Meghan spoke, “I want to be cross with you.”

“Meghan, will you give the girl a break?” Steve said, fiddling a little with Mjlonir.

“Are you defending her actions?” Meghan asked.

“No,” Steve answered, “but try to look at it from her perspective. No, try to look at it from your perspective.”

“What are you talking about?” Meghan queried.

“You, Molly, Danny, myself, we are the top members of our respective houses. That kind of societal elevation- it does something to people. I don’t know what to call it; Tall Poppy Syndrome, the Icarus Gambit, the Crumbling Pillar Scenario, whatever. The thing is, there aren't many people in our position that want to friends with us because of our status.”

“So, you’re saying,” Meghan began, “that Molly is lonely because she is The First Sage?”

“Yes,” Steven replied, “and then some. I mean, how often do you get people who are sincere in their offer of friendship? I know I get a few requests an hour about that, but most of those are glory hounds, status seekers, gold diggers. And Molly has it worse because of her age! I wouldn't be surprised if she isn’t dealing with Imposter Syndrome.”

“Steve,” Molly begged, “please, I don’t need ya fightin’ me battles…”

“I’m not, Molly,” Steven retorted, “I’m just trying to shed some wisdom on this situation.”

“Hmm,” Meghan mused, “I can see your point.”

“That’s funny,” Danny added, “I don’t.”

“Danny, you have all the tact and emotion of a ten penny nail,” Meghan growled, “in any case, I can see what you mean, Grand Archmage. Molly has few peers her age that she can confide in, have fun with. Her immediate subordinates are just that: subordinates. And almost ten years her senior.”

“Thanks fer remindin’ me,” Molly quipped.

“Sorry, Molls,” Meghan said, “I guess when it comes down to it, you need people with whom you can decompress. Danny, Steve, and myself have our methods, but you might be lacking in them. I- I may be amiable to allowing you one weekly trip into Canterlot to visit your new friends.”

“R-really?!” Molly squeaked.

“Yes, provided you do your homework, finish your chores and leave a note when you go into town,” Meghan answered, “I’m also adding the proviso that Steve drives you there.”

“WHAT?!” Molly and Danny bellowed.

“Steve has a truck,” Meghan said, “it isn’t as nice as the Escalade, but it seems sufficient, and it is, as far as we know, unknown to your newfound friends. He’ll drop you off near the park. You must take your smartdevice with you so you contact him or myself when you need extraction or if you ever run into a problem. Understood?”

“Yes, Matron.”

“Okay,” Meghan said brightly, “we have a settlement! Danny, make this old girl strut. I’m hungry and I can’t wait to get home.”

“Goin’ as fast as is legal, Matron,” Danny complied.

“Do we have any bears in the woods?” Meghan asked.

“That’s a negative,” Steve replies, “we’re clear for ten more klicks, then there’s a Statie within spitting distance of the Academy. And… a game warden. Must be that time of year, again.”

“Okay, Danny, punch it,” Meghan says, “Steve will keep us apprised of legal trouble.”

“Aye, Matron,” Danny replies, “let us ride the phooka!”

4 Strangers in the Night

“Man, I hate it when I get the munchies.”

Steven was grousing, because, even after finishing his term paper, he was only a dozen hours shy of the next class day. Sundays were always a blur, what with Quorum, picnics, House Activities (today was mastering Shadow Boxing,) equipment inspections, House Sprucing, then for the last few hours, homework. He was exhausted, hungry, and after grinding out that paper, very, very lackadaisical. Also, he was out of food. He had not yet ordered his next resupply.

“I guess there’s nothing to it,” Steve murmured, “I need to go to town.”

Now, Steve was in his “work clothes,” meaning, he was wearing a pair of worn out cargo shorts, a stained t-shirt, and not much else. When he settled down to work on his classwork, he preferred comfort over fashion. Now that he was going out of town, he needed to get himself dressed for the city. So, with much grumbling, he changed out of her comfortable dorm clothes, put on one of his favorite turtlenecks, a good flannel shirt, slipped into some crew socks, his best cargo pants, and boots, filled his pockets with his everyday carry kit, then walked to his door.

He cracked open the door, extending his mage senses to their furthest extent. He could not sense Franky anywhere or least nowhere in the Manse Arcane. He didn’t want to count his blessings early, so he stepped out of his dorm room, locked the door, and alighted down to the Garage. HE had no encounters with his pushy courtier, so he entered the Garage without delay. MEchanic Archie was waiting for him at his truck.

“Evening, Grand Archmage,” the House Mason greeted, “out for another ride tonight?”

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed, “my cupboards are bare and I don’t have the mental or psychological wherewithal to hit up the supermarket. So, I’m going to try some place in town I haven’t been to yet.”

“Can I recommend something for ya?” Archie asked.

“By all means!”

“There’s this taco joint downtown, kinda popular but woo-howdy, the hottie populace of this place is amazin’!”

“I don’t regularly go downtown,” Steve stated, “so I likely haven’t seen this place. What’s it called?”

“Taco Hut!” Archie beamed, “just be careful about the cashiers. If you get a girl with pigtails, she’s okay. If you get the poofy haired demon, guard your family jewels!”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Steve laughed, “I don;t know about demons, but I doubt any Canterlot resident has ever dealt with me before!”

The drive into town was rather quiet. Steve only saw a single state trooper on the road leading into Canterlot. He didn’t give any thought as to why there was a state trooper stationed that night. He did make a mental note to report this to The Quorum when he got the chance. The presence of State Troopers on Old Trottingham Road was a little concerning for the students and faculty of The Imperial Academy mostly because local authorities steered clear of the campus. And theartifice built along the campus grounds and it's boundaries would prevent Mundane curiosity seekers from getting too close.

The firearms stored in the Armory were registered to individuals, and no one under the age of sixteen was issued one. The quantity of such ordnance was far less than some gun nuts or even the former Branch Davidian. Still, state police watching the road and being within walking distance of the Academy was a little alarming. Steve would need to mark the troopers location and check to see if the trooper had changed their position while he was in the city.

Once in town, Steve did need to stop at a quiet corner to check online maps to find the safest route to downtown Canterlot. Once assured of his route, Steve continued on his journey. Downtown was a lot more crowded than he would prefer. Traffic was still dense, even on a Sunday evening. He could see pedestrians along the sidewalk, in thick throngs that were not very safe in a time of pandemic. He didn’t know how many folks here were self-conceited anti-maskers or were generally healthy individuals that held no fear of COVID 19. Being an asthmatic, Steven had no illusions about what the virus could do for his health. His mask was firmly affixed to his face, the letters IDGAF plainly visible against the royal blue fabric.

Navigating the central Canterlot streets was a nerve wracking hassle, but eventually, he found himself on the street Archie told him Taco Hut existed on. He could see the restaurant in the middle of the upcoming block. Because he didn’t see himself as a selfish asshole, Steve activated his indicator to show he was making a left turn. He was able to accomplish the turn with little issue (there was one idiot that blew their horn because he was turning his midsize truck into a narrow driveway,) and found a packed parking lot. The Taco Hut was certainly doing fair trade this evening, so Steve drove his truck to find a parking spot free of other cars to park in. The rank he settled on was at the far back corner of the lot, under a buzzing street lamp, as far away from the restaurant as he could get. Not an optimal position, but Steve liked to think he was not so far removed from getting exercise as some.

Walking through the automatic door of the Taco Hut, Steve laid his eyes upon a badly packed dining floor. He would not be eating in there. There were several open seats in the outdoor dining area, so after ordering his food, Steve elected to eat out there. Like any other fast food joint, his meal was carefully but alacritously crafted and delivered to his waiting palms in a few scant minutes. Navigating the crowded dining floor too much longer than that, but once outside, he found a quiet table to sit at and presently began to dine.

According to Archie, the tacos at Taco Hut were greasy, heavy on the veggies, and sour cream, but oh so very delicious. Steven did concur with such an analysis. The Academy Cafeteria sometimes did serve tacos, but why were lacking in some regard Steve could not determine. These tacos were nigh divine. (And Archie’s warning about the cashier was on point: the poofy haired girl was working the register was a regular bitch. Saying she was mean would be an understatement.) He knew he would return here on a regular basis.

“Um, excuse me,” came a voice. Steven was so deep in his contemplation of the nachos provided for his meal, the he didn't see anyone coming up to his table. When he did look up, he saw a young woman, roughly his age, with flowing pink hair, teal eyes, a bashful demeanor. She was wearing a white cashmere sweater (and had gotten cool after sunset lately,) a long green skirt, and what looked like high heel boots. Steve’s mind locked up, unable to comprehend why anyone would speak with him, let alone someone as quietly beautiful as this girl. It took a few moments before he opened his mouth, though how he said things left him thoroughly embarrassed.

“Y-y-yes?”

“Is this seat taken?” The girl asked, “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Uh, no, it’s no bother,” Steve replied, “be my guest.”

Now, Steven had taken the girls request as permission to take the chair across from him and take it to another table. For whatever reason, the outdoor tables were plentiful but seating was at a premium. He counted no less than ten tables but less than 30% of those tables had any chairs to sit upon. Now, what actually happened with this girl, much to Steven’s surprise, was she pulled the chair back, placed her tray of taco salad, drink, and potato crisps on the table, and seated herself across from him. He was taken aback that this girl would want to be in his presence. Granted, his ability to properly present himself to members of the opposite sex was rather negligible, and that was being generous about it.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” the girl said, “do you come from out of town?”

“In- in a- manner of speaking,” Steve answered, “I go to a school on the outskirts of town. I don’t- I don’t come in all that often.”

“Oh?” the girl mused, “You don’t go to Ponyville High, do you?”

“N-no, actually,” Steve replied, “I’m a member of Imperial Academy. T-to the west. It’s at the end of Old Trottingham Road.”

“Oh,” the girl stated, “I didn’t know anything like that existed out that way. I have a friend who attends Canterlot High with me, but she lives in Ponyville, out at her family’s orchard. She helps run it with help of her older brother and younger sister; they harvest apples.”

“I like apples,” Steve said, realizing this statement was rather awkward to say.

“So does Applejack,” the girl mused, “I like them, too. She’ll sometimes give me free samples, but I always feel guilty doing so. She works so hard to harvest and sell them, I feel like I’m cheating her of good income.”

“I think I can understand that,” Steve said, “it’s like, you’re making light of all the effort your friend puts into her livelihood. You know what it means to her to get those apples sold so taking off her generosity is like lifting cash from her purse or wallet.”

“Exactly!” the girl exclaims, “oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be loud.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Steve explains, “I have dorm mates that are- at least, sixteen leagues louder than a rock concert. I don’t think you can make me deaf.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” the girl said, “oh, you must think me rude! I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Fluttershy.”

“Oh, well, nice to meet you, Fluttershy,” Steve replies, “I’m Steven Ambrose.”

“That’s a funny name,” Fluttershy supplied, and by the flush in her cheeks, he reckoned she hadn’t meant to say that, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean-”

“I take no offense,” Steven beamed, “I’ve gotten used to the idea that my name is unusual for people in these parts. Point of fact, I sometimes find the names of people here rather unusual. Who names their daughter Adagio, anyway? Musicians, hipsters, old hippies? Not my place to judge, honestly.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Fluttershy said, “that you don’t have a problem with your unique name or that the names of the people here in Canterlot are so distinct.”

“It takes all kinds, right?”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Fluttershy said, “I know my friend Rarity would agree.”

“By the way, salad?” Steven asked, “I know this place is called ‘Taco Hut’ but I didn’t know they made salads.”

“Oh, yes, they do,” Fluttershy replied, “they are very scrumptious. Lately, I’ve been trying to have a vegan diet. The vitamins are a bit costly but I haven’t had so much energy before. I feel like I can keep up with all the kitties and puppies that regularly turn up at the animal shelter I volunteer at.”

“You volunteer at an animal shelter?” Steven inquired.

“Oh, yes, I do,” Fluttershy sighed, “I absolutely adore critters of every kind! I always say, ‘a little kindness goes a long way.’ That is especially true of animals.”

“I do kinda of take you for an animal lover,” Steven remarked.

“Well, I think everyone loves animals,” Fluttershy retorted, “some are just- not equipped to deal with them in a loving way. That’s why shelters are a thing.”

“That does have a ring of truth,” Steven said, “I have known some people who have not the patience or compassion necessary to raise animal companions and it’s often the animals that take the brunt of that behavior. I wouldn’t mind having a pet myself but I’m not sure I can properly care for one and- also- there are no animals allowed in Academy dorms.”

“What?!” Fluttershy screamed, though it sounded more like a very soft exclamation.

“It- happens to be a response to an alumnus of the Academy. He was a member of House Fauna and he kept an entire menagerie in his dorm room. Albeit, he was rather lackadaisical with the creatures upkeep and his dorm mate often described the state of their room as ‘smelling and looking like a poorly managed zoo.’ After that, The Headmistress forbade animals of any size or kind on campus living facilities. There is a farm on campus, though, so the majority of pet and the like are ept there.”

“Oh, well, there is at least that,” Fluttershy said, “it is a pity that you can’t have pets in your dorms, but I guess the faculty don’t want to suffer with the upkeep.”

“That’s how I understand it,” Steven added, “it was quite expensive to clean up that mess.”

“I can understand,” Fluttershy said, then, “do you do anything for a hobby?”

As the question was apropos to nothing, Steve was unsure where that question had come from, but nevertheless, he did answer.

“I- don’t usually have a lot of time between my classes and Academy- activities, but when I do have some time to spare, I’m usually playing video games.”

“You do?” Fluttershy asked, “what do you play?”

“Looter-shooters, platformers, puzzle games, action-adventure,” Steve replied, then reluctantly, “visual novels.”

“Oh?” Fluttershy mused, “I know my friend Rarity plays a few visual novels. She loves romance in general, but it surprised me that she played games like that. Though, as I understand it, the ones she plays are really tame compared to some others.”

“I can understand that,” Steven added, “I’m not usually one for smut or anything… but if it’s a good story with cute and endearing characters, then I’m all over it.”

“Me too, me too!” Fluttershy exclaimed, “Oh, uh, sorry.”

Steve waved a dismissive hand, “You’re fine. I can’t blame anyone for getting excitable about something they care about. Whether it's animals or a good book or even video games.”

“I know, right?” Fluttershy beams, “I know when the topic of animals comes up, I can’t seem to stop talking about them. It doesn't happen often, but when it does…”

“You’re off to the races,” Steve completed, “I can be like that with some of the stuff I’m into. Anime, manga, video games, books, and even history. Touch on any of those and you’ll need to give me a shot of something excitable to keep me quiet.”

Fluttershy laughed, a quiet, melodious sound to Steve’s ears, then she said, “you and I have so much in common.”

“I guess so,” Steven said, “but the old adage says, ‘opposites attract.’ That said, I- I would really like a friend outside of the Academy. And anyone who lives here in Canterlot might not be so bad to know. Especially if you can show me key points of interest.”

“I’d be happy to do that!” Fluttershy announced, “oh, but I have classes and club activities all week. I’m not sure-”

“No, no, I understand,” Steve interrupted, “how about this? Let me give you my number, then you can text me when you have an afternoon or so free. I may have some time to drop by during the weekend, though I may be running a few errands while I’m here. Especially grocery shopping. I have been negligent in getting that done.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind,” Fluttershy said, “Let em give my number, too, so you know who's texting you. I could show you the best little grocery store in the city! They have a very good selection of everything. Even apples.”

“Oh, touché!” Steven laughed, “okay, I’ll look forward to your text. In the meantime, I may have to hit up the Academy commissary to make sure I don't starve to death during the week.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Fluttershy said, “oh, how about we meet at Canterlot High! It’s close enough to my house that can be there in two shakes of a bunny's tail. And the parking lot there is very secure.”

“Okay, cool,” Steve said, “I haven't been up that way before, so I look forward to seeing what makes this school so special, even if there isn’t much.”

“You’re going to love it,” Fluttershy said, then lifting her drink cup, she said, “friends?”

Lifting his own very empty drink cup and touching it to her own, Steven repeated, “Friends.”

Author's Note

I really need to find a piece of cover art for this story… Something like a Google Campus or some scene with a university on it, IDK. The artist side of me is OTL…

5 This Will Be the Day

“Where did you get off to?” Franky asked as Steve approached his dorm room.

“I was feeling peckish, so I went to town for tacos,” Steve answered, “also, I don;t remember granting such a level of familiarity to refer to me in such a manner. I’ve become accustomed to having my fellow mages referring to me as ‘Grand Archmage.’ Even members of other houses call me that; even the fucking Matron calls me that. She’s older than me by four years, she is the Academy’s Student Council president, and she doesn’t even have to do so because of her station. So why aren’t being so reverent?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s necessary for my lover,” Franky crones, “and if you would just stop being silly, you would find yourself enjoying my company better.”

“Frankly, War Mage, I don’t see that occurring even in my worst nightmares.,” Steve retorted.

Franky shot back, “You’ll never find a better companion in your life than me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve retorted, “I know I found a new friend tonight and I wasn’t even really trying.”

“Oh, you did?” Franky exclaims, “who is he?”

“Bold of you to assume my new friend is male. Her name is Fluttershy,” Steve replied, watching the shocked face Franky made with a wild sort of abandon, “she lives in Canterlot, is an avid animal advocate, knows her way around the city, and I may be seeing her this weekend.”

“Shut. Up.” Franky seethes, “You shut up. You did not meet another girl.”

“I did,” Steve retorted, “she’s really cute, too. I don’t know if her friendship will come to anything, but I’m more than willing to find out. Hell, if all she wants is to be my friend, I won’t complain. It would be nice to have a more rounded group of companions in my life.”

“You- you-!” Franky seethed, but any further ranting she may have pent up was stopped by Steven planting a pointer finger on her lips. The blush that rises to her cheeks because of the more intimate contact is a little upsetting to Steve.

“I’m touching you this way,” Steven explains, “because I’m fighting a deep seeded impulse to punch your light outs, for one, and for two, it’s to get you to shut up. YOU, do not get to dictate my social life or my sex life. YOU, do not get to choose to whom I affiliate with or to whom I feel an attraction for. YOU, are not in any way a candidate for my affections, and I would prefer it if whatever relationship we have here is strictly platonic and professional. You are one of my War Mages; I am the Grand Archmage. You are The Subordinate; I am The Superior. You report to me; I will never report to you. Do I make myself 9,000 percent crystal, fucking, clear?”

Franky squeaks out a yes and Steve removes his finger.

“I’m glad we have this important understanding hashed out. No, if you’ll excuse me, it's been a long ass Sunday, my belly is full of beef and sour cream, my legs are in desperate need of recharging, and I would like to get a shower in before I go to bed. I would suggest you return to your dorm room and prepare for bed yourself. Whatever- foolishness, you have concocted in your mind about you and I? It ends, now.I bid you farewell this evening and goodnight.”

Steve sips into his dorm room, closes the door loudly to break any argument Franky may have biding in her head about the situation, casts a locking charm or fifteen upon his dorm room door, as well a sound suppression enchantment, then heads to his bathroom to get that shower he said he would take. Before he does so, He strips off his pants, to reach at a spot above his left knee. With a twist on the flesh there, the leg below converts from muscle, skin, and bone into a cybernetic prosthesis nearly seventeen generations removed from current prosthesis tech. He does the same with his right leg, though this time, it’s from his mid calf. He uses his wind mage telekinesis to plant both prosthetic legs into a charging cradle near his bed, then uses the same telekinesis to carry into his shower stall. When bathing and dressing for bed are done, Steve casually flops onto his full size mattress. In mere moments, he is asleep.

Expensive cars are not as commonplace in Canterlot as they may be in places like Hollyhoof, Las Pegasus or Manehattan, but they aren’t the sort of transport that is unexpected either. The stretch Escalade that rolls down the Canterlot streets is a little more unusual for the denizens of the city, but not so much that they rubberneck when it passes them by. Granted, the solid silver extended SUV is a sight to see, as is the vanity plates that read “MJESTY.” If one were inclined to imagine so, it could be said that some form of royalty was visiting their fair city. Matron Meghan Ann Williams was nothing like royalty in the traditional sense, but given her carriage and air of command, you would be hard pressed to imagine she wasn’t some Old World crown princess or something.

The Escalade made its way to the shopping district of Canterlot, following all the traffic laws, stopping for pedestrians, and driving at the posted speed limit. Meghan had no illusions that she or her retinue could claim diplomatic immunity should they incur the judgement of the long arm of the law and she was not willing to tempt fate in that way. Even though her retinue has licenses for the concealed carry of firearms, none of them had any on their persons. Their nominal choice of defense, the SIG/Sauer P365, was still present, but they had been racked into a hidden compartment of the SUV’s trunk. If some incident were to incur, they could use their magic and nullify any hostiles, then cast memory altering charms to mitigate any telling of tales. The pistols were there as a backup solution to any trouble.

The Escalade turned off the major artery of town to head into the parking lot of the local mall. While the majority of shopping malls had faltered all over the country, the Canterlot Palace Mall had survived by being highly adaptable to an uncertain economic and social tableau. While it still held some of the surviving staples of American Retail Life, many of the stores and shops now housed here catered to the new niche consumer experience and it was thriving because of it. Meghan thought that was an interesting bit of information, though as to why, she couldn’t properly express.

The SUV eventually made its way into the below ground parking garage of the structure, winding its way into the bowels of the garage until it found a space that was bright, offered numerous defense positions in case of attack and allowed easy egress should The Matron need it. It was parked into a rank with an overhead lamp stationed dead center above. The motor was eventually turned off, and after a few moments, the riders in the vehicle began to disembark.

If anyone had been watching the progression of the passengers of this SUV unload, they would think they had come upon something otherworldly. Every single one of the passengers was a girl, all were in silk kimono though they were also wearing Western footwear (low heeled boots, flats, and the occasional wedge heeled shoe,) and the fanned around a central figure in the kind of precision formation associated with military parade drills. Their eyes, set in fashionable cosmetic product that did not hide their natural features, scanned the level of the parking garage with the practiced discipline of a soldier. It was only after the last passenger exited that the retinue began to move.

Meghan hated that she had to have an escort wherever she went, but she had long since come to terms with this facet of her current status. This is why she had insisted that her security contingent be all women and dress in House Majesty robes, so she easily blended in with the other; an assassin would have trouble telling which was The Matron of Imperial Academy and which was naught but a loyal House Majesty retainer. That is, granted, if they paid attention to just the faces of these girls. Meghan singled herself by wearing a more ornate obi, as well as tabi and zori of the kind ascribed to more traditional Japanese attire. The zori weren’t the most comfortable pairs of footwear she could have worn, but she did have a certain mage’s charm to make them more bearable.

The troupe of girls headed into the mall via an elevator on the parking garage level they were on and rode it up until they arrived at the first floor of the mall. From there, the troupe made their way in a seemingly random pattern, flitting from store to store in a meandering manner. The truth of the matter was, the troupe’s zigzag journey was in response to the desired product that Meghan had need of, a product that the Academy Commissary could procure readily. There also a few items that the Commissary had in small quantities or were of lower quality than what was sold commercially. Like a certain brand of body wash and shampoo/conditioner…

Several hours were spent flitting from shop to shop and by the afternoon, everyone of the retinue was laden with shopping bags. That elusive body wash and shampoo/conditioner were proving difficult to acquire. She was willing to call it quits right now, but she was also getting hungry and that may have played a part in her attitude. She felt a bit to eat from the food court may help in renewing her spirits or at least making her feel less miserable.

“My Matron,” Cecilia Obregon began, “should we break for luncheon? You must be hungry now.”

“I am,” Meghan stated, “sure, let’s get lunch.”

“Agreed,” Cecilia said, “should we leave the mall for sustenance or stick around?”

“Let’s stick around,” Meghan replied, “the food court here may not be the best but I don’t want to tempt fate against lunchtime traffic.”

“Very well, My Matron,” Cecilia said, “is there anything you would like?”

“I think I could get my own meal,” Meghan began before Cecilia interrupted.

“Forgive me, My Matron, I must insist on ensuring your safety,” Cecilia stated, “as such, if you request a meal from any of these establishments, then I, as your daimyo, must acquire it and set a cordon around you as safeguard.”

Meghan acquiesced, "You’re right, you’re right. Okay, if that’s the case, I would like some pizza from Sbaro’s. Two slices, a Coke, some breadsticks or garlic bread, and plenty of parmesan cheese."

“As you desire, Matron,” Cecilia said, then motioned to the rest of the retinue. The troupe moved in unison towards a forlorn table at the edge of the food court’s dining area. Cecilia and Rose Brannigan broke off to get the meals, while the rest aligned themselves in a circle at tables nearby Meghan. From her perspective, Meghan was at the center of a very lonely universe. She may have been around others (or as close to others as can be during the age of COVID,) but she was isolated and sequestered. It really was lonely at the top.

“Hi there!” came a voice from directly to Meghan’s left and she looked, she was assaulted by pink. Pair hair, pink skin, white t-shirt that was almost pink, blue vest and matching skirt and pink, pink, pink, and pink! It took a moment for Meghan to adjust her gaze to the blue eyes and the beaming smile of the girl who just popped up from out of nowhere.

“Um, hi,” Meghan said, “how did you-?”

“I’m Pinkie Pie,” the girl continued, “you’re new here, right? I would soooo remember if I had seen you here in Canterlot before.”

“Uh, yes, well, no, um, maybe?” was all Meghan could mumble out. This Pinkie Pie was really causing her brain to misfire.

“Confused? That’s okay. I find myself confused nine times out of ten,” Pinkie said, “confusion is life’s little way of making sure you’re paying attention!”

“Those- sound like wise words,” Meghan said, “oh, I’m Meghan, by the way.”

“Is it okay if I call you Meg?” Pinkie asked.

“Uh, no, it isn’t,” Meghan answered, “I have an Aunt Meg and- she’s something of the black sheep in our family. I haven't seen her in years because the last time I did, she tried to cleave my ears clean off. She’s uh, not all that well in the head, you see.”

“Oh, I get it!” Pinkie beamed, then whispering, “she’s lost a few of her marbles, huh?”

“I’d substitute ‘a few' and replace it with ‘all,’” Meghan said, “how did I not see you coming? I-”

“PINKIE!”

“OVER HERE, DASHIE!”

Meghan, who was just barely keeping up with the current conversation, (she was definitely a little nonplussed as to how her retinue hadn’t stopped this very effervescent girl from getting so close,) that she almost failed to see a young woman roughly the same height and age as Pinkie Pie, though this girl was a riot of color. Her hair was rainbow streaked, her tank top showed this girl was very athletic, and the blue vest she over atop of that practically flew behind her as she ran, somehow morphing her sky blue skirt around her toned legs. Meghan was never really sure where she fell on the Kinsey Scale, but she was starting to get heart palpitations and a warm feeling of something was traveling up her core. She wasn’t certain as to why.

“Pinkie, why did you- whoa!” The rainbowed girl said as Meghan retinue rose up, forming up into a perfect human wall.

“Pinkie!” the girl called out again, before Meghan decided to intervene.

“It’s okay,” The Matron stated, “let her pass.”

Her retinue gave Meghan questioning looks, but did as their leader told them; the broke apart and the rainbowed girl approached Meghan and Pinkie at the table they had taken up.

“Dang, Pinkie, why did you rush off like that?” The Rainbowed Girl asked.

“I sensed a friendship emergency,” Pinkie answered simply, then turned to Meghan and said, “Meghan, this is my best friend Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash, this is Meghan!”

“Uh, hi,” Rainbow Dash said, taking out a hand to shake before pulling back, “right, COVID. Settle for a hand wave?”

“Only if it comes with your number!” Meghan spouted. A powerful blush spread over her face, realizing what she just said.

“Huh?” Rainbow asked, bemused.

“OOooo,” Pinkie groaned, “Methinks Meghan has a thing for rainbows!”

Meghan growled, “PINKIE!”

“Huh, I wouldn’t have thought,” Rainbow mused, “I mean, I get it. I am pretty awesome! You kinda remind me of my friend, Rarity, all posh and trendy… but it looks like you have some boldness in you, too. I still don’t know what’s with these girls here are-”

“My matron!”

Meghan recognized Cecilia’s voice as the amazon retainer and her partner came upon the scene. This encounter could bring about disaster if Meghan didn’t defuse the situation immediately. She called upon her reserves of authority and addressed Cecila.

“It’s alright, Cece,” she calmly explained, “these are some new friends whom I just met. Cecilia, I would like you to meet Pinkie PIe and Rainbow Dash. Girls, this is my best friend, Cecilia.”

“Hey,” Rainbow said, while Pinkie was more- energetic.

“Wow, you are tall!” Pinkie exclaimed, “I bet you have no trouble getting to the top shelves of grocery stores.”

“I- usually do not,” Cecilia answered, “Meghan, I was able to get you some pizza. Would your new friends like anything? I can get-”

“No thanks, we're good,” Pinkie said, sitting across from Meghan with an absolute spread of fast food favorites and drinks to accompany them, “but thanks anyway!”

“You’re- you’re welcome,” Cecilia said, then mouthing to Meghan, How did she do that?

Meghan subtly shook her head, as bemused as Cecilia was at the sudden turn of events.

“Oh, great, hamburgers,” Rainbow said, digging through the spread Pinkie had acquired and digging in, “let’s eat.”

Lunch was a very calming affair.In spite of the glaring dagger Cecilia and Rose gave her, Meghan was delighted to speak with her Canterlot friends, though Pinkie proved a tough cypher to crack. Thankfully, the beautiful Rainbow Dash was able to provide a decent enough color commentary, that if not a proper translation, was at least a point of reference to steer by. The Matron had never laughed so hard in her life; at times, she very nearly did a spit take at Pinkie’s antics or by the explanation Rainbow gave. She would have to see if she could get these girls up the Academy for a day; that would surely shake the drudgery of normal House Majesty operations, to say the least.

“Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!” Meghan breathed, trying her best to speak between fist of laughter, “what happened next?”

“Then, she pops out of the pile, wailing like banshee and asks, ‘What have you done to my hair?!’” Rainbow completes.

“Maker damn me, that is hilarious!” Meghan guffaws, “ah, oh, that is the most brilliant prank I’ve ever heard! Man, what I would give for you teach me your ways. I could prank the whole damn school like that!”

“Best to start small, Grasshopper,” Pinkie said, mimicking a kung-fu master from a chop-socky film, “you must learn to run before you can learn to walk.”

More laughter, a few tears, but for Meghan it was all worth it. Thirty minutes with these hilarious girls and she can tell they will be the best of friends. All the tension she was holding has washed away, like it never was there to begin with. Again, it was lonely at the top and Meghan was as far removed from the student body due to her status as a Swiss Alps mountain peak was from a base camp. Yet, she had found two girls, two friends, who were willing to meet her halfway and saw her not in light of her position but as a fellow girl, even if she was older than them.

“Meghan,” Cecilia started, “we should best be heading back.”

“Yeah, you’re right Cece,” Meghan began, “even if I didn’t find that bath set, I did get a few things on my list that have been on the back burner, so at least this town venture was a partial success.”

“OOoooo,” Pinkie beamed, “hard to find bath sets? I can help!”

“Really?” Meghan asked.

“Oh, yeah, she can do it,” Rainbow added, “if you’re lost or can’t find something, Pinkie can get you sorted. It’s like- a superpower she has or something.”

“Surely you can’t be serious?” Meghan asked.

“I am serious,” Pinkie said, now wearing a light brown sports coat, hunting cap and blowing bubbles out of plastic pipe, “but my name is not Shirley. It’s Pinkie.”

Bemused, Meghan queried Rainbow Dash, “How-?”

“Don’t know, don’t wanna know,” Rainbow answered, “we’ve all taken it as ‘Pinkie being Pinkie’ and rolled with it.”

“Huh,” Meghan said, “so, if, I were to say I’m looking for the Countess Colocultura Bathtime Fragrances Set, you’d be able to find it?”

“Oh, silly,” Pinkie began, returning to her normal outfit but now digging into the curly mass that was her hair before procuring the very item in question, “all you had to do was ask.”

Meghan’s retinue gasped as the body wash and shampoo/conditioner were drawn from Pinkie’s voluminous mane, for they had searched the mall over every floor from first to fourth and found no sign of it. And yet, here it was, in this strange girl's hair, where such an item could neither reside nor physically be able to spawn from? Was she a mage or some sort that they had yet to discover? Mysteries upon mysteries…

“T-thank you, Pinkie,” Meghan gasped, “what do I owe you?”

“Oh, you’ve already paid in full,” Pinkie stated, matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“Well, my Pinkie Sense detected someone being all mopey, and I never ignore my Pinkie Sense,” the paradoxical, pink party planner explained, “so I went looking for whoever it was that was having a smile upside down. When I saw you, I just knew you needed a friend. And maybe a hug. Seeing you smile and laugh just now, is all the reward I could ever want.”

Meghan stared at Pinkie, then Rainbow Dash, then Pinkie, before finally addressing Rainbow, “Is she serious?”

Rainbow nodded, adding, “eeyup, dead serious. Even if you were to offer her cash on the spot, she wouldn’t take it, except as an insult.”

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Meghan said.

“That’s okay,” Pinkie beamed, “half the times, I don’t know what to say either.”

“Well, thank you, Pinkie,” Meghan said, “your generosity won’t go unappreciated.”

“You’re welcome,” Pinkie smiled.

As the girls all get up to leave, Meghan felt something slip into her hand. She opened her palm, the one not burdened by shopping bags, and saw a piece of paper with a hastily written phone number. When Megahn looked up, she saw Rainbow Dash give her a wink and mouth, Call me!

Today was a good day.

Author's Note

♪Meghan and Rainbow, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!♫

6 If I Had A Hammer

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough for The Grand Archmage. Classes went by in a syrupy malaise, while any free time he had was gutted by House Activities, several Quorum meetings, and dealing with a now sullen Franky. Dealing with her exuberance was bad enough; add in her obsessions about him and he had started considering restraining orders. Now, this sulking girl of a War Mage was going through the motions, all while glowering at him like he just kicked her puppy. He couldn’t figure out which aspect of Franky he found more discomforting.

To be honest, Franky discomforted him when she was her usual clingy self. It was all he could do to keep her at bay by hiding in his dorm room or removing himself to far corners of campus. He had gotten really good at finding places where few people would bother to look. His favorite hideout thus far is the belfry of the old chapel. House Hepheastus had recently gone through and installed some new communications networking systems, including wi-fi and a brand new cell tower. He did need to smuggle some pillows, a bean bag chair, a card table, and a dorm fridge that he loaded snacks and soft drinks in.

He couldn’t stay there forever; the dorm mother would go hunting him down and already had three demerits on his record. He had already undergone volunteer public service after his third demerit and he had no intention to risk taking an even longer stretch of such servitude. So he may be able to hide up there and get shit done, but around ten at night, he needed to pack up, stow what gear he couldn’t take back to the dorms, then bound in overwatch back towards the House Endymion dorms (it’s bigger on the inside!) It felt a lot less like a James Bond movie and more like a tense action scene from “Burn Out.”

He now suspected he wouldn’t need to make use of his hideout now, but he didn’t see a need to self destruct the place just yet. There may come a time where he might need the location for some sort of rendezvous, but until then, he would keep what maintenance was needed so the place would be ready to entertain guests once more. Steven didn’t know when or whom he may bring there, if anyone, but he could make all the upkeep of the belfry site until it had been compromised or until it was no longer needed.

Which is why this weekend was something he was looking forward to…

Molly was bleary and unrested when she woke up on Saturday morning. She had an exceptionally hard time getting to sleep the night before because some sage or other had started a game of Trivial Pursuit and the session lasted well until the morning. She had won, of course, but just barely. By the time the game was over, it was already 3:45 in the morning, And now it was- 7:15? She had barely three hours of sleep; she was sure that she was going to need some coffee to even think about being cognitively functional. First though, all that Mountain Dew last night was finally making itself known. Molly rushed to the water closet of her dorm room (like the Grand Archmage, The First Sage had her own, exclusive dorm room with all the amenities one could find in a Presidential Suite.)

After emptying her bladder, and getting in a hot shower, Molly got quickly dressed (this time in her Academy robes, which were much better color coordinated than the disguise she wore last time she was in town,) and headed down to get to the Campus Cafeteria. As she crossed the campus and thought about the coming day, a stray thought hit her (a rather common occurrence of the Sages of House Intelligentsia,) and a blush bloomed upon her face. She had nearly forgotten that The Grand Archmage was going to be her escort into town.

The reason this thought brought her some pause was the mild, slightly childish crush she had on the ginger haired House Endymion head. It started when the newly christened Grand Archmage was training with The Moochik. Molly, though barely out of toddlerhood, was skipping along her way after her half sister and half brother. She was merrily skipping along, oblivious to everything but the happy tune playing on a loop in her head, when she bumped into someone. She tried to apologize to Molly, who was the taller of her older siblings, only to realize that A.) whomever she bumped into was not a blonde girl in pigtails, and B.) they most certainly were not a girl. It was an older man, one she hadn’t met before.

Said stranger was tall, old (but a four years standards, anyway,) and scowling at her with the meanest she had seen since coming through the airport of La Guardia. She still had some night terrors about that customs official and his deadpan delivery of very personal questions. This man she ran into was now growling at her like she was personally responsible for ruining his day, She was in such a state that she couldn’t properly understand the words he was saying. The growling grew into a barking of sorts and that point, Molly ran off.

Tears filled her eyes as she ran. She was lost, she didn’t know this place all that well, she had managed to lose sight of Meggie and Danny, plu she got yelled at by some irate stranger. This wasn’t a happy day anymore. She closed her eyes, hoping that by doing so, she could stop the world around her until she found Meghan and Daniel once again. Then for the second time that day, she ran into someone.

“Oof!”

Molly fell on her heinie and under the duress she was currently suffering from, she presently began to cry in earnest. She was bad, she got separated from Meggie and Danny and now she was going to Hell, just like her Papa always said she might. (Papa was actually her grandfather, from her mother’s side; he was a roaring drunk, and a toxic little man to boot. His favorite insult was to declare someone or something was going to Hell, even if the offending party was actually very innocent, doing nothing wrong. To Jameson Flannigan, everyone was a sinner assured of damnation, except for him.)

“Aw, don’t cry,” came an assuring voice.

Molly, still pulling up the waterworks, opened her strained eyes to look upon a face. Said face was riddled with summer freckles, wore a wavy mop of hair that resembled the maple leaves in autumn, and eyes the color shamrocks. This face was full of concern and worry. Behind that face, an older man, another stranger, but one who shared the concern of the face, a boy she later realized, though there was a kindness in the wrinkles of the older gentleman’s eyes, like he knew where she was coming from and would make it all better. The boy was holding onto her with a slender hand on her small shoulder, a posture of comfort. This seemed to settle her down enough to speak coherently or as coherently as a distraught four year old could explain.

“Imma lost,” Molly explained, “I was followin’ me Meggie ‘n’ Danny an’ wit’out enny warnin’, I ran into this rasciabe fella what grumbled and yelled at me. I got so scar’d I scamp’r’d but now I dunnae where I am or where Meggie and Danny are and I want me mum!”

“There, there now, it’s going to be alright,” the boy said, “Mr. Moochik, would you know of anyone by the name of- Meghan-? Meghan Williams, I think? And- Danny-? Daniel McAllister?”

“Can’t says I have,” Mr. Moochik replied, “but me olde ears done tell me that a new trio of students done arrived. Lemme call up the ole Ecumne an’ look. Ya’ll keep our guest there comfy.”

“Yes, Mr. Moochik,” the boy said, then back to Molly, “Hi! I’m Steve. Steven Ambrose. What’s your name?”

Molly shook her head. If there was anything that parents that sunk into her young mind was to never talk to strangers. And even this boy and the old man he was with, were treating her rather nicely, she didn’t think it was wise to speak with them. She wasn't sure why and she wasn’t sure she should care. Although, the boy’s eyes spoke to her, like the knew so many sorrows and maybe they could wrap her up in a warm blankie, sing her Irish lullabies like her Mummy always did, and she would awake in her mother’s arms again, with Meggie, Danny, and their setter, Strands, all around her and she would be safe. She liked safe, though it was a concept that, at her age, didn’t include things like personal interdiction, tactical armored carapace, lockdown protocols or safe rooms. At least, not yet.

Then she saw a light and when she looked for it, she saw the light was from arcs trailing up then down the boys outstretched fingers. She was mesmerized by the sight and could not look away. It reminded her of those goofy glass balls her mother sometimes bought, the ones that made your hair stand on end if you touched it. Soon, the arcs switched over for a water bubble, then a tiny snow squall, a palm sized fireball, and lastly, pebbles floating in intricate patterns in the boy's hand. Molly was entranced by the display that she nearly forgot why she was sad to begin with.

“I found ‘em,” Mr. Moochik stated, “they’re on their way now. The brother and sister have been in a right two-and-eight about losing this one. Her name be Molly, by the way.”

“That’s your name,” the boy asked, “Molly?”

Molly wasn’t sure if she could confirm or deny the question. She didn’t need to agonize over it for too long, because a pair of people she recognized came running down the lane.

“MOLLY!” Meghan screamed when she saw her baby sister.

“Saints be praised,” Danny huffed, trying to catch his wind, “ya dang near gave me an’ Meghan a heart attack!”

“Imma sorry,” Molly mewled, “I got lost.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you ran into,” Meghan began before she turned to the two males that weren’t her brother, “who are you?”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Matron,” Moochick said, inclined his head, “I am called Moochick. I be the groundskeeper about here and I’m also the Grand Archmage of House Endymion. A pleasure to make yer acquaintance. An’ this here is me protégé. Come on now, boichick, speak up.”

“H-hi,” the boy said, also showing the same deference to Molly, “I’m Steven Edwin Ambrose… Your Grace.”

“Ah,” Meghan gasped, “The Grand Archmage- and the next Grand Archmage.”

“Ya mean, one has already been chosen?” Danny asked.

“Aye, boichick,” Moochick confirmed, “an’ if I ain’t missin’ me guess, you be Daniel McAllister, of House Praetorian. Primus Legate, I see?”

“Aye,” Danny confirmed, “we jus’ get in from Denver. I didn’t think I’d be missing fair Cook County weather but here I am.”

“Aye, boichick, yoer’ll get used to it soon enough,” Moochick replied.

“Well, thank you both again for finding my sister,” Meghan said.

“Begging pardon, Matron,” Steve began, “but Molly found us.”

Meghan had no comment about this, except to hold Molly tighter in the motherly hug she put on the young sibling. Danny just shifted uncomfortably in his shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers. Molly was still grabbing Meghan by her dress sleeves, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. The tears the young girl produced were ones born from happiness, now that she had been found again. She vowed that she would never stray from whatever path Meghan or Danny told her to follow. (A now ironic vow, given how often Molly seemed to want to run far afield now.)

“Well, thank you all the same,” Meghan began, “if my dad or Moira ever got wind of how we lost our sister, well… I'd rather like to not think of how our punishment would go.”

“Tann’d backs’de, I reckon,” Danny breathed.

“Were you two yo’ngl’ngs lookin’ for the Registars off’ce?” Moochick asked.

“Actually, yes,” Meghan answered, “for whatever reason, none of the maps on campus will provide either Danny or I the right direction.”

“Aye,” Moochick answered, “‘tis because yain’t been equipped with DIICCE yet.”

“Are we playin’ some game,” Danny asked, “like craps or somewh’t?”

“Danny!” Meghan hissed.

“Nai, nai,” Moochick said, “the boichick will show ye. Go ahead, l’d.”

“Yes, Grand Archamge,” Steveen replied, then he turned his right wrist and a projected image emerged from it. It showed the whole of the campus, even their current location, though it only showed Danny, Meghan, and Molly as white dots in it. Steven and Moochick showed up as green arrows with a sigil of their house, the waxing and waning moon below the star, Sirius.

“Nohw, ye be seein’ were we be now?” Moochick asked, “go to this location-” he pointed to a building that was adjacent to where they were on the Quad, “an’ get yerself a DIICCE unit apiece. They’ll save ye some trouble, they will.”

“What are those things for anyway?” Meghan asked.

“L’d?” Moochick ordered.

“Their how Imperial Academy students communicate, among other things,” Steven explained, "it stands for Digital Inventory, Information, Communications, and Currency Exchange. Think of them as a very powerful, very discreet, and very advanced cell phones.”

“And these will help us navigate campus?” Meghan asked.

“Definitely,” Steven beamed, “the maps on the quad and greens are there for misdirection, should any hostiles turn up. They randomly generate a map of the campus to confuse opposition forces, should they ever find this place. But a DIICCE unit can do more than that. You’ll get oriented in their operation when you get yours equipped. The Outfitter should be waiting for you, so I suggest you get over there, double time. She’s going to be irritable if you aren’t there in a timely manner. And she is not the friendliest person to be around in the first.”

“How long ‘ave ya had that, laddie?” Danny asked, “ya seem well versed on it's operation.”

“Four years!” Steven beamed, “ever since I got here.”

“And how old are you, Steven?” Meghan asked.

“I’m nine, Matron,” the young Grand Archmage-to-be answered.

Danny swore in Gealic, causing Meghan to glare at him. Molly was nonplussed as to why this was important, but she did know that this Steven was that much older than her. In fact, he was just as old as-

“You and Danny are the same age,” Meghan stated, “I hope you can be friends with him.”

“As much friends as I can be, Your Grace,” Steven replied, “he’ll be in House Praetorian. House Endymion doesn’t always get along with House Praetorian, you see.”

“Why is dat?” Danny inquired.

“Ach, ‘tis cuz House Endymion has all the combat, battle, and war mages in their ranks,” Moochick explained, “whilst House Praetorian has plenty of soldiers and warriors to their beck an’ call, they be lackin’ in capable mages. ‘Tis a sore point between Houses.”

“Oh,” Meghan breathed, “well, here’s hoping it won’t be anything more than a friendly rivalry, given the history of both houses.”

“Aye, aye,” Moochick agreed, “Boichick, methinks ‘tis a time fer a break. Why dunnae ya take The Matr’n and her fam to the Outfitter afore tha’ lass takes a bite of ‘em. Tha’ way ya get to know yer new Matr’n and ye set a right impression?”

“Yes, Grand Archmage,” Steven bowed, “come on, follow me! Uh, sorry, Matron, I forgot my place. Would you kindly follow me?”

“I would be delighted,” Meghan said, “please, lead the way.”

As they walked to the Outfitter’s office, Meghan and Danny chatted up Steven Ambrose, getting his impression of the campus. Molly was lost for most of the conversation, but her eyes never strayed from the young mage she encountered. He spoke animatedly, using his hands to gesticulate things he may have trouble expressing but even so, he was most articulate. His hair was darker than Danny’s, which was a feat Molly didn't think was possible. And she sensed- a kindness in him, borne from tragedy… or as a result of hardship. She also noticed that he favored a leg, his right, but she wasn’t quite sure why.

They did eventually reach the Outfitter’s office and the grey haired woman of House Hephaestus who greeted them, gruffly, was every bit as cantankerous as Moochick claimed. She didn’t quite take a bit of them, thankfully, but she did them a riot act that rivaled her mothers. Then asked Steven how his legs were holding up. The young mage answered they were doing well, but storms caused the knee of the left one to ache terribly.

“Why would that be?” Meghan asked.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Matron, ain’t somethin’ I can rightly get into…” The Outfitter began.

“Go ahead, Ms. Beatrix, “ Steven said, “I don’t mind.”

Snorting through her nose like a bull, The Outfitter said, “I’d rather not, but if ya insist, I’ll tell them. Ya see, young Master Ambrose here and his family were involved in an attack. Was Tribe Proletariat what up an’ done it. Lay waitin’ for the family at a busy intersection and then broadsided ‘em with a big ole tractor trailer. The family lived, no small miracle given the state of their minivan, but Young Master Ambrose lost both of his legs. We got there before mundane authorities arrive, would be a hassle to explain an assassination attempt. Poor boy is out cold, suffering from shock, so we Transmitted him to a House Apollo surgery theater to begin the amputations and graftin’ of new prosthesis. I was there for the procedure. Took him months to get used to ‘em, though that was after his three month coma ended. Been usin’ ‘em ever since.”

“Praise Jesus,” Danny whispered, “an’ ye survived that, boyo?”

“I did,” Steven answered, “my mom and dad are here on campus, living in the Guest Dorms. A lot of students' families use those. My sister and brother attend classes here. My sister is also in House Endymion but my little brother is in House Intelligentsia. He’s into music, you see. Wants to be a Bard and from what I’ve seen, he has the talent.”

Molly had been on autopilot, it seemed. She had made it to the Campus Cafeteria, acquired her breakfast and successfully ate it while taking a ride down Memory Lane. She hadn’t realized she had accomplished this until a hand fell upon her shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo,” came a voice and when Molly looked back, she saw the smiling face of one Grand Archmage.

“S-Steven,” Molly breathed.

The Grand Archmage asked, “You good to go?”

“J-just finishing up breakfast,” Molly replied, “and you?”

“Working on my second cup of coffee,” Steven answered, “but the Hammer is fueled and all warmed up. Just let me know when you’re ready to roll.”

“W-will do,” Molly said.

“Good,” Steven said, “going with your school robes?”

Molly nodded.

“Nice,” Steven said, “might also be a good idea to bring a change of clothes, just in case. I’m not sure what you and your new friends will be up to, but you wouldn’t want to give The Washerwoman any excuse to throw a fit.”

“Oh, right,” Molly mused, “There’s wisdom there. I do have some play clothes in me closet. I could pack a few of those in me satchel.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steven said, “I’ll be in town using some civilian clothes, so you may not recognize me off the jump. My new friend has seen my school robes but I don’t want to meet with her in those. I may need some gear that can stand to get dirty and or allow for extended range of motion. You never know.”

“Aye, that sounds like a grand idea,” Molly concurred, “is that why ye suggested I have some changes of clothes?”

Now it was Steven’s turn to nod, adding, “I’m not sure what XXIst century girls get up to when they're having fun, but it pays dividends to think ahead.”

“How is it ye ain’t in me House, eh?” Molly asked.

“Danny asked me the same,” Steven stated, “my answer for you is the same as I gave him: my neutrality. I don’t think there’s a Sage or Preator with net zero neutrality.”

“Aye, ‘tis true,” Molly stated, “even I have four percent. An’ I don’t have any attack spells to speak of, so I could never be a mage of Endymion.”

“We would welcome you, though,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee, “ugh, this is some weak ass shit. I don’t know who brewed this but I’m going to need to get me a few more cups of this to stay awake this morning. No, scratch that, I need to brew some of my own. Hit me up on my DIICCE when you’re on the ready line. I’ll be waiting at The Hammer when you do.”

“Aye!” Molly beamed, watching the Grand Archmage walk away.

I so hate ta see ‘im go, but sure do love to watch ‘im leave…

The ride into Canterlot was relatively quiet, given how awkward Molly felt around Steven. Even though she was four years his junior, she still had a deep adoration of the man. Even though he wasn’t legally a man in the eyes of the state, she thought of him as one. Granted, she knew that she couldn’t make a play for him anytime soon. In another two years, he would be old enough to acquire sovereign franchise, both by the nation and by the Academy. Maybe he would see her in a different light by then, but things could impact that sort of blessed event in the next two years.

As they drove, a mix of rock, eletronica, and techno played over the sound system. Molly had to admire the work House Mason had done rebuilding this truck and the effort they put into setting up the sound system in the cabin. While the music selection wasn’t what she prefered, it wasn’t terrible, either. The sound system didn’t distort any of the bass and the treble came through very clearly. When she finally was old enough to acquire a vehicle, which was in another four years, she would ask House Mason to build a sound system like this. Songbird Serenade would sound excellent in a system like this.

“You okay over there, kiddo?” Steven asked, rousing Molly from her thoughts.

“Aye, aye,” Molly responded, “just- enjoyin’ yer sound system.”

“I see,” Steven said, “it is plenty bangin’. I don’t think I could stand a system that drops so much bass, my teeth rattle. I prefer a balance of high, clear sound and deep, penetrating rhythms.”

“I can see the appeal,” Molly retorted, then, “do ye remember when the Moochick died?”

“I’d rather not, but I can’t seem to forget,” Steven answered, “why?”

“I was thinkin’ back to when I had some trouble with some of me Sages,” Molly told him, “youngest First Sage in Academy history, Head of House Intelligentsia, and they’re tryin’ to take th’ piss outta me. So wha, I dunnae want to use the co-ed locker rooms? I was only eight at the time! Do I wan’ twenty an’ thirty somethin’s starin’ at me youthful body? Just how sick is that?”

“It’s pretty terrible,” Steven adds, “I know when I was elevated to Grand Archmage, I got some assholes ragging on me because of my age. And damn, the girls just wouldn’t stop teasing me. Granted, they were actual girls; would be lucky if any of them were older than fifteen. Mind you, as soon as I could summon Mjlonir, they all backed off. Ancient, blood thirsty weapons are not something you mess with.”

“Aye, they’re not,” Molly agreed, “but I remember when you set a gaggle of them perverts runnin’ fer their mums. I was distraught at the time but lookin’ back, I find it funny.”

“It wasn’t funny, Molly,” Steven retorted, “it was hilarious!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Molly said, “don’t right remember if’n I gave ya any thanks back then, but- thank ye. What ya did- it gave me confidence that I could do th’ job.”

“No worries, kiddo,” Steven said, “I hated bullies then, I hate them even now. Also, that was the first time I was able to speak my Invocation. I didn’t think being an Adept of Thor would mean I could use gamer terms to summon Ma’Ji Un Kudd’r. Now, even the Quorum is wary of my wrath.”

“An’ no sympathy for the wanker tha’ did,” Molly said, “oh, are we in town now?”

“Eeeyup,” Steve drawled, “where did you say your friends were going to meet you?”

“At Canterlot High,” Molly answered, “huh, I wouldna thought they be in high school by now.”

“Maybe the Canterlot independent school district has consolidated a number of schools? Like, compressed junior high into the high school? It would save some money, not having as many buildings to upkeep.”

“Hadna thought of that,” Molly mused, “where’re ya meeting yer friend?”

“Same place,” Steven confirmed,”Canterlot High.”

“Coincidence?” Molly queired.

“Hmm, I think not.” Steven quipped.

“Oh, there they are!” Molly exclaimed.

“I see,” Steven said, signaling his pull over to the curb into the ornate school parking lot that accompanied the grand school building, “okay, take the ‘probably’ of consolidation out of my last statement and add ‘definitely.’ Shit, that building is huge!”

“‘Tis almost as tall as the Quorum Building!” Mollly breathed.

Steven added, "Yeah, but twice as long. Well, this is where you get off, right?”

“Aye,” Molly confirmed, “I’ll call ye when I need retrieval.”

“I’ll have my smartphone on,” Steven said, “later, Molls!”

The late morning and early afternoon went by a tree sap covering monsoon of activity. Molly couldn’t quite remember when she had more fun in an afternoon or if she had been in more zany adventures as when she and Crusaders had been doing most of the day. They ate lunch before the worst of their misadventures started, which was a pizza from a local pizzeria, then did all manner of wacky activities that left them in three different states of exhaustion. And the aforementioned tree sap. It was Sweetie Belle who mentioned her sister’s shop and the bathtub she sometimes used for clients. (Molly wasn’t going to ask why her big sister was giving clients baths; it probably wasn’t anything lewd, but it was territory she wasn’t comfortable discovering right now.)

The march to the Carousel Boutique was, suffice to say, especially eventful, with Applebloom and Scootaloo affixed to each other by tree sap, Sweetie Belle having trouble with walk sigh buttons, and Molly almost losing a shoe in a sewer grate. The troupe made their way from the park they were playing in through the busier streets of Canterlot’s Business District. There were more than a few stares as the girls navigated their way to the Boutique, though from what Molly observed, this seemed a normal event to the citizens of Canterlot. (At least she hoped it was.)

When they reached the boutique, Sweetie Belle insisted on going first, so she could call out to her sister. She explained to Molly that she needed to buffer the Crusaders entrance to insure that they didn’t cause any damage to Rarity’s shop. Molly was in agreement about this, so Sweetie opened the door, and went inside.

“Rarity! I’m home!”

“Oh, Sweetie Belle, how wonderful! I was going to ask you- GOOD HEAVENS! Tree sap? Again?!”

“We- may have had some trouble in the park?” Sweetie Belle explained.

To which her sister added, “And let me guess: the rest of the Crusaders are equally covered in filth and are in need to the bathtub?”

“And also the washer/dryer,” Sweetie Belle continued, “tree sap gets in everywhere!”

“UGH, fine,” Rarity acquiesced, “you all know the drill. Upstairs, all of you- Oh, I don’t remember there being a Fourth Crusader. And who might you be?”

“Begging yer pardon, miss,” Molly stated, adding a curtsy toward Rarity, “I’m a new friend of the Crusaders. If’n you’ll allow, let me introduce meself. I’m Molly Williams. ‘Tis a pleasure to me ya.”

“Oh, charmed, I’m sure,” Rarity beamed at the very polite friend Sweetie seemed to picked up, “and what a charming accent! Where is that from?”

“Dublin, Miss Rarity,” Molly replied, “Dublin, Ireland, where’n me family comes from.”

“Oh, I see!” Rarity crooned, “are you an exchange student?”

“Nay, miss,” Molly said, “I attend the school out by the end of Old Trottingham Road. I don’t get into town much. I be too young to do so by meself.”

“Then what are you doing here today, Miss Molly”?” Rarity inquired.

“I have an escort,” Molly said, “he had other errands to run, but methinks he won’t tell tale on me for this. He had a friend here in town he was seein’, so cannae blame him fer leavin’ me in the company of yer sister an’ her friends.”

“Well, I do hope they didn’t, as one might say, send you down the rabbit hole?” Rarity asked.

“If’n not, Miss Rarity,” Molly opined, “a rabbit hole might ‘ave been less messy. Or painful.”

“Oh, dear, you are a mess!” Rarity worried, “come along, I think I can find you something to get into after you’ve had a bath.”

“I have a change of clothes, Miss,” Molly informed Rarity, “a suggestion from me escort. I cannae tell how he has such foresight, but ‘tis a blessin’ all the same.”

“Indeed,” Rarity mused, “oh, but your hair! Such a lovely shade of red… It has all those sticks and sap stuck in it.”

“Aye, me hair is a casualty in th’ name of fun,” Molly replied, “if’n ye don’t mind, I could use a sink to clean me hair. I did th’ liberty of bringin’ some shampoo wi’ me.”

“Well, aren’t we the prepared little Crusader,” Rarity beamed, “well then come on. I can show you to my private studio; there’s a bath there I would never let Sweetie or her friends use. I think you may be able to get yourself sorted in there.”

“I thank ye, Miss Rarity,” Molly beamed back, “yer sister wasn’t lyin’ when she told me ye were the generous sort. But I shan’t be overtaxin’ that, if it can be helped.”

“Polite and thoughtful,” Rarity mused, “maybe you’ll be a good influence on my sister yet? Time will tell. Let’s get going, then.”

“Aye.”

It hadn't taken long for Molly to wash her hair of twigs and tree sap. A little casting of cleansing spell had removed the twigs and cleared away most of the sap. She did use her shampoo, though, to rid herself of the excess goo. She then changed into another set of clothes, (a cute little wool dress with a matching turtleneck and some wool leggings.) Autumn had been creeping into Canterlot and even her Academy Robes were starting to catch the first bite of Jack Frost.

When she was as thoroughly clean as she could manage short of her shower stall in her dorm room, she went back downstairs to see rarity. Then, she and the dressmaker spoke about plenty of things, mostly about Molly. Rarity was also very keen on the ensemble Molly was now wearing and it was a small rush a guilt that Molly wasn’t wearing the outfit she had on when she met the Crusaders. That may just blow a gasket in Rarity’s little head.

“Those three are taking an awful long time up there,” Rarity muttered, “there can’t be that much tree sap in their hair.”

“I dunnae, Miss Rarity,” Molly opined, “we were gettin’ into the trees somethin’ awful.”

“Oh, dear,” Rarity worried, “I love my sister, dearly, but sometimes she- Oh, a customer! Be right there, darling!”

Molly watched as Miss Rarity approached a woman, a middle aged woman with a firm physique of an Olympic athlete, strolled into the shop. Rarity gave the woman her tagline for the Carousel Boutique, which Molly found fascinating, but the woman stated she was just looking for now. Rarity, never the woman to give up on a potential sale, Rarity began to pull dresses and complete outfits from her showcase. The woman, who never gave her name, remained impassive.

Molly started to feel a sense of unease. She wasn’t completely sure what she was feeling but it made the hairs in the back of her neck stand on end. It wasn’t Rarity; while she had only known the young woman for all of a half hour, Molly was certain that Rarity was the gregarious sort, full of compassion but also very business savvy. She adored her little sister, despite the headaches Sweetie Belle was prone to give the fashionista. In a sense, Rarity Carousel reminded Molly a lot of Meghan in that regard. No, the sense of unease came not from Rarity- The woman? Hmm, yes, it did feel like that, but why?

Then Molly recognized the aura she was feeling; arcane auras are the most common way most Imperial Academy students can track or detect hostile intentions. This woman was definitely hostile but why? Was it towards Rarity? Molly didn’t know, but she chanced sending out her mage senses- which was the biggest mistake she could make. No sooner than she did so, but the aura she was picking solidified into one of death. And she knew of that aura only because of the Grand Archmage. It was often said of Steven Edwin Ambrose that he was the inhuman offspring of lightning and Death itself. As the bearer of the Ma”ji Un Kudd’r in the form of Mjolnir, the ichor craving grand mastercraft war hammer, as well as his penchant for lightning based combat magic that was lethal in its own right, he simply exuded the aura of Death. And this woman was blasting it just now.

“Is everything alright, darling?” Rarity asked of the woman when said woman went into a catatonic freeze.

“Miss Rarity,” Molly began, “methinks ‘tis best ye get yerself behind some solid cover. Things are about to get very, very messy here.”

“Molly, darling whatever do you- mean-?” Rarity started, only for a dawning horror to creep up her spine.

“HQ, THIS HUNTER-KILLER PROBE 808136; HAVE ENCOUNTERED TARGET. CAN CONFIRM ARCANE SOURCE. REQUEST PERMISSION TO ENGAGE.”

“Molly-” Rarity whimpered.

“Rarity, cover, now!” Molly ordered.

Just then, the woman spoke again, “CONFIRMED HQ. ENGAGING TARGET. ACTIVATING H-K PROTOCOLS.”

The clothing and the skin of the woman simply melted right off her as circuitry and metal panels began to form around her. Her eyes, a pale blue before, were replaced by some sort of- robotic iris and her hair vanished to be replaced with arcing panels that glowed a deep crimson.

“ENGAGING TARGET, NOW.”

Then the- beast drew up an arm and where it's hand once was, there now was a glowing orb. Rarity had enough time to process that she was looking at a weapon of some sort. Her flight, fight, or freeze response suddenly locked up between “flee” and “freeze.” A sheen of hexagonal tiles formed in front of her just as the abomination opened fire. Bolts of light erupted from the creature's arms, impacting on the sheen she witnessed earlier, each strike lighting the fields where they were hit.

“ECUMENE ACTUAL, ECUMENE ACTUAL, HOW COPY? THIS IS THE FIRST SAGE. I HAVE A CODE BLACK, REPEAT CODE BLACK! I AM ENGAGED WITH HEAVY ENEMY! AM IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE BACKUP! ANY MAGE IN RANGE, COPY?”

Rarity’s panic was broken when Molly began to shout, to be heard over the creature’s terrifying weapon she thought. She then realized that it was Molly putting up the defensive screen that kept the monster’s energy weapon from striking either one of them, but it looked the young girl was straining to keep it up. It certainly wasn;t Rarity’s magic generating a barrier; while she did have her pendant on, she hadn’t activated yet.

“First Sage, this is The Grand Archmage. I copy. Can you confirm, Code Black?”

“GRAND ARCHMAGE, THIS IS FIRST SAGE! CAN CONFIRM, CODE BLACK. HEAVY ENEMY ON MY LOCATION. INTERDICTION IS IN PLAY BUT I CAN’T HOLD IT FOR LONG. CAN YOU ASSIST?”

“First Sage, this Grand Archmage. I’m on my way. ETA, two minutes. Moving as the crow flies.”

“HURRY!”

“I am already gone…”

Rarity took stock of the situation as best she could. One, some science fiction monstrosity had come into her shop and was trying to kill one of her sister’s new friends. Two, said friend was capable of magic, but Rarity was certain that they were not using any Equestrian artifacts or were an Equestrian themselves. Three, Molly was wearing a rubber strap with an LED face that Rarity only just noticed and she was speaking into it; another voice came from out of it, so, Four: there were others like here here in town. Five: this girl was giving it her all to keep Rarity and herself alive but she was doing naught but standing there, one o’ clock half struck. Now that her panic had subsided some and her resolve had come back full force, Rarity summoned up her own magic, and added her own shield to Molly’s still very effective one.

“WHA- HOW?!” Molly screamed, “WHO?!”

“HOLD ON DARLING, I’M HERE TO HELP!”

Fluttershy and Steve had spent a lovely afternoon investigating the local petting zoo. Fluttershy had a quick giggle when all the billy goats swarmed Steve. She even got a video of the whale thing, though she was never going to show it to anyone else or even post it online. That would be mean! They then visited the bunnies, the ponies (Steve joked about riding one, but he was patently too tall and heavy; he settled for petting some and grooming a lovely mare who enjoyed the attention.) They saw the sheep, the pigs, they watched a herding demonstration, and even helped corral some Australian Shepherd puppies back to their mother. It was a very fun afternoon.

They went to get some cotton candy, a confection that Steve admitted he hadn’t had in a decade or so. After taking a chuck of the floss he bought, then taking several more, he declared that his youthful memory of the spun sugar cloud was just as he remembered it. They ate more cotton candy as they went around, looking at the various animals. It was very enjoyable, until the watch on Steven’s wrist began to chirp.

“What’s that?” Fluttershy asked.

“What?” Steve asked, then looked down to his wrist, “Ecumene Alert?”

“ECUMENE ACTUAL, ECUMENE ACTUAL, HOW COPY? THIS IS THE FIRST SAGE. I HAVE A CODE BLACK, REPEAT CODE BLACK! I AM ENGAGED WITH HEAVY ENEMY! AM IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE BACKUP! ANY MAGE IN RANGE, COPY?”

“First Sage, this is The Grand Archmage. I copy. Can you confirm, Code Black?”

“GRAND ARCHMAGE, THIS IS FIRST SAGE! CAN CONFIRM, CODE BLACK. HEAVY ENEMY ON MY LOCATION. INTERDICTION IS IN PLAY BUT I CAN’T HOLD IT FOR LONG. CAN YOU ASSIST?”

“First Sage, this Grand Archmage. I’m on my way. ETA, two minutes. Moving as the crow flies.”

“HURRY!”

“I am already gone…”

“Steven, what's going on?” Fluttershy asked, “What’s code black?”

“Fluttershy, this has been fun, a real banger of an afternoon and I would love to do it again sometime,” Steven began, “but I have a friend in mortal danger if I don;t get there soon, she could die!”

“What?! No!” Fluttershy begged, “let me come! I can help!”

“It’s- Not lying here, it’s going to be messy,” Steve said, “I don’t know what kind of help you can bring, but I don’t want to leave here feeling abandoned.”

“I- I know,” Fluttershy said, “but I don’t think I can stand here and do nothing!”

Steve looked upon his friend, her lovely face skewed up in firm conviction, then, “Okay, but we need to be there five minutes ago.”

“We can take your truck,” Fluttershy said.

“We could,” Steve mused, now leading his friend through the throng of people, “Gwenievre, I need transmit back to The Hammer. Do you have me locked?”

Yes, boss, give me a moment… Location locked, verified… triangulating nearest escape vector… assessing populace density…Turn here and prepare for transmission.

“Thanks, Gwen” Steve said, “Fluttershy I need you hold my hand and close your eyes.”

“Uh, sure,” the demure girl said. Grabbing his hand, she felt a little embarrassed. They weren’t a couple of high school lovers so holding onto him like this felt- indecent. She did wonder why he asked her to do that. And why should she close her eyes? Before she could get a question about why she was asked to do those things, she felt the pull of the universe on her, and things went black all around her…

Rarity was starting to feel the strain of keeping her shield up. SHe had used it before but never for this long and the brunt of the attack was heavy. Whatever this creature was, it was tenacious and relentless. She wasn’t sure how Molly was able to maintain her own shield given how young the girl was. Rarity hoped that whatever the Crusaders were doing, they could hear the tumult downstairs and decide not to come down to investigate.

“Rarity, what’s going on? What al th- EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“SWEETIE BELLE! Rarity screamed, unsure what happened to her sister, “APPLEBLOOM, SCOOTALOO?”

“We’re here, Rarity,” Applebloom said, “an’ Sweetie Belle is okay, but I think she may need a change o’ underpants.”

“ALL OF YOU GET BACK UPSTAIRS NOW!”

“Ain’t going to be told twice,” Scootaloo said, and Rarity heard the sound of footsteps retreating up the stairwell.

“And now to deal with you, you- you- brute!”

Before Rarity, or Molly, could do anything, a blinding burst of light shone through.

“…by the tanning of bullymong hides, SOMETHING BADASS THIS WAY RIDES!”

Something was swung but in her adrenaline fueled desperation, Rarity couldn’t make out what it was. In the next moment, the creature's head was severed from its torso, bits of circuits and wires flying from where it was struck. The garish green light emitted from it's eyes died out. As it fell to the floor of Boutique, Rarity caught a glimpse of their savior and nearly wet her pants herself. Standing there, a massive hammer in their hands, was a person in robes that, to Rarity’s trained eye, served in both form and function. That, though, was not what caught the fashionista’s attention. What did was the glower the person had- and the absolute fury that glowed off of him. She wasn’t someone who anthropomorphized the factors of nature, but she could surely imagine that this was Death itself…

Author's Note

For anyone who was wondering why the violence tag? Well, here you go. ANd there will be a few more instances of that, soon enough.

7 The Watchtower

The Hammer of the Gods, Canterlot High Parking Lot

The shadows faded away but were suddenly replaced by pinpricks of light and color. The sensation of being pulled through a vacuum hose abated and Fluttershy was able to catch a breath. And she caught a second breath. General geography and topography was starting to form and the first cogent thoughts were starting to emerge.

What just happened? How did we get from the petting zoo to here? Where am I now? Why did Steven ask me to close my eyes? Oh, wait, I think I know the answer to that last one. The experience of an acute temporal-spatial displacement may be detrimental to the psyche of one unprepared for such an act. Should I be losing my mind right now? Well, I guess I could but that delays many of the very reasonable inquiries I have for Steven. Yes, let’s save the hysteria for when I am alone and the only witness to my screaming is Angel Bunny.

She was just getting properly adjusted to her current situation when she started feeling dizzy. A strong yet gentle hand was able to arrest her faint, keeping her standing but peering into Steven’s deep green eyes. That- was a more intimate posing than she would prefer. Albeit, her pulse did have a pleasant but acute acceleration. She wasn’t sure what that meant. She did hope, though, that she was due for a cardiac infarction. She was way to young, and in too good a shape to having a heart attack now.

“Are you okay?” Steven asked.

“Um, yes, thank you for asking,” Fluttershy replied, “um, I think I can stand on my own now. Thank you.”

“Oh, yes, right,” Steve said and released his hold on her. Strangely enough, she actually missed the sensation of Steven’s hand on her back.

“Yeah, sorry about the- abrupt transmit,” Steven sighed, “we could have gone through the crowd like a normal pair of teenagers but time is of the essence. I don’t know if Molly can hold out for a whole two minutes given what she’s facing.”

“I know this seems like the wrong time to ask but, is someone in danger?” Fluttershy queried.

“Yes, they are,” Steven stated, “for now, get on, buck up, and hold tight.”

FLuttershy did as Steven said, hauling herself into The Hammer’s cabin, putting her seatbelt on, but as for the hold tight portion of his request, she wasn’t sure what he meant. A moment later, Steven was also in the cab, behind the wheel and in seconds, he had the truck started.

“Ecumene Actual, this The Grand Archmage. Request access to Bifrost, how copy?”

“Grand Archmage, this Ecumene Actual. Bifrost access requires proper Academy credentials and requisition forms. Request is pending. Is this an emergency?”

“Confirm, Ecumene Actual. I’m responding to a Code Black. First Sage is engaged with Heavy Enemy.”

Fluttershy noted a moment of silence with this- communication Steven was having with whomever was this Ecumene Actual, but eventually they spoke again.

“Confirmed: Code Black. First Sage is engaged, reading- two arcane sources at location? Must be a fault with the scopes… Also detecting DEW discharge. Energy signature confirms Heavy Enemy presence. Hold for twenty. Engaging Bifrost at your 10-40.”

“Thank you, Ecemune Actual, standing by.”

Steven started rolling the truck out of the parking lot and towards the road leading east into the city. Fluttershy, as nonplussed as she was, couldn’t think of how she would start with her inquiries.

“I have so many questions,” Fluttershy announced.

“Grand Archmage, this is Ecumene Actual. Your Bifrost request has been approved, Alpha Priority. You are greenlight to run. Be advised, you are limited to a maximum safe velocity of 242 kilometers an hour. Any excess of that limit will result in Censure and will negate any safety measures for the protection of Mundane property and life. How Copy?”

“Solid copy, Ecemune Actual. I will not exceed 200 KPH; my target is too close for anything higher.”

“Clear copy, Grand Archamge. Maker speed you on and happy hunting.”

“Thanks Ecumene Actual. Grand Archmage out,” Steven stated and then turned to Fluttershy, “When this is over, I’ll answer as many questions as I can,” Steven said, “oh, here we go, The Bifrost is open. Hold tight!”

Fluttershy was so stressed she didn’t think to look out upon the roads until the turck started driving on a shimmering, broad ribbon of colored tiles. She knew they weren’t there before. She had attended this school for a few years and never before had she seen something like this disco era display.

“What am I holding tight to?” Fluttershy asked, but it would be the last she could speak as the truck, now fully rolled onto the multicolored ribbon, shot forward with such alacrity that she felt her brain sliding ever deeper into her skull. She saw a display projected on the windshield and read the speedometer it showed. 75MPH, 80MPH, 85MPH, 95MPH, 120MPH. It should not have been physically impossible for a truck the size of the Hammer to accelerate so quickly but it was; below it and expanding in front of it was the rainbowy ribbon of light.

Another impossibility: The Hammer of the Gods was not hitting any cars, buildings, or pedestrians they crossed. Like her friend Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy was well versed in the narrative of Daring Do, but what she was witnessing broke the laws of physics and probability in ways that defied all description. She really hoped she wasn’t dreaming. And she really hoped she wasn’t suffering a psychotic break. All that she had spectated thus far was too spectacular to be real and yet she was sure it was all happening even as she sitting here in the Hammer’s cabin.

Before long, the ribbon (Bifrost, she thought the name was,) ended and with a quick shift from drive to neutral, Steve was able to quickly coast the truck in front of- Carousel Boutique? Why were they here? Fluttershy had scarcely gotten to unbuckle her seatbelt when Steven exited the bad and ran around to the back of the truck. All the while, she swore she heard him chanting.

“Lootin’, tootin’, toil, and shootin’, fire burn for rakk ale brewin’…”

The tailgate in back was dropped, she saw Steven through the rearview mirror pull something heavy from the bed of the truck, (the whole machine bounded on its springs as he removed the burden. She watched him until he floated into a blind spot of the truck. Then she heard the back passenger door open and whatever Steven had grabbed from the back was not dropped onto the back seat. The truck groaned worriedly from the weight.

“Gullet and a scythid’s snake, upon my grill to boil and bake…”

Steven then walked around the front of the truck, and towards the window on the passenger side. He mimed rolling the window down and Fluttershy pressed the button the rolled the automatic window down.

“Shy, stay here, stay down, and whatever you do, don’t look into the light.”

“Steven-?”

“Just- just trust me,” Steven said, “roll the window up.”

Fluttershy did, but even the window was unable to silence the chant that Steven was reciting.

“Psycho’s mask and varkid’s sting, Goliath’s helm and rathyd’s wing,

Eye of Tink and fava beans, toe of skag and denim jeans…”

Steven entered the Carousel Boutique. He stopped just within the entrance and threw out his right arm.

“Whiskey, spit, and thresher spittle, thrown upon my Hyperion griddle.

By the tanning of bullymong hides, SOMETHING BADASS THIS WAY RIDES!”

Fluttershy felt the truck spring up, the massive weight suddenly missing and saw a hammer, nearly as long as Steven was tall, slap in his right hand. He kicked upon the door and then there was a brilliant flash of light-

Moments later

The figure stood, heaving breath from their mouth, eyes burning with fury, an unadulterated rage. They turned their head one way, then the next, then looked down. Looked down and locked eyes with the young Molly McAllister.

“You five by, Molls?” They said in a high baritone.

To Rarity's utter bewilderment, the girl responded, “I’ve had better days, Steven. Saints be praised, could ya cut it any closer?”

“Sorry about that,” the one named Steven replied, “I had a guest follow me. I hope I didn’t break her. I was moving with all alacrity.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can see why ye were delayed,” Molly stated, “I was sure me fate was decided. Thanks be to the Maker tha’ I got an assist from the gallery.”

“An assist?” STeven asked.

“Aye,” Molly said, now raising to her feet after collapsing from the strain of her efforts, “Miss Rarity Carousel, this is a fellow Academy student of moine. His name is Steven Ambrose, but he is oft referred to as ‘The Grand Archmage.’”

“Wait, Grand Archmage?” Rarity asked, “you were the voice I was hearing over whatever device Molly was using.”

“Uh, yeah, that would have been me,” Steven said, then he moved into the sales floor lights and Rarity was able to make out the details of his face. His skin was a little ruddy, with a smattering of freckles across his checks that faded out over the bridge of his nose, with a pair of spectacles that looked like the kind of fashion she saw in old photos of her mother and father. The rest of his clothing choices were what she had glimpsed before but the color scheme, while darker than she would prefer, complimented perfectly with each other.

“What’s this about an assist?” Steven asked.

“Methinks Miss Rarity cast- somewut- just ahead of me interdiction charm,” Molly replied, “saved me some exertion though I’m a wee bit outta equilibrium.”

“‘A wee bit?’” Steve asked, “I can see your House Sigil and you dangerously close to being afflicted by magic poisoning.”

“I was really hopin’ ye wouldna catch tha’,” Molly moaned.

“Hold still, I’ll Replenish you,” Steve said, then as he clutched one of Molly’s shoulder, he spoke into his right wrist.

“Ecumene Actual, this is The Grand Archmage. Heavy Enemy is neutralized. Negligible exposure. First Sage is five-by but being Replenished. I need a Sanitation Team and Public Relations committee on my location.”

“Grand Archmage, this is Ecumene Actual. The Sanitation Team and PR Committee are en route. ETA, thirty seconds. Be advised, Primus Legate is on stagger. ETA, 45 seconds.”

“I am advised, Ecumene Actual, thank you. Standing by to receive. Grand Archmage out.”

“Well, I guess that gives me a few seconds to relax bef’re me brother lays inta me,” Molly sighed.

“This wasn’t your fault though,” Steve said.

“Technically, it wasn’t,” Molly retorted, “but I did extend me mage senses and tha’ what set the Adjudicator off.”

“Eheh, excuse me, darlings,” Rarity interrupted, “but could somebody tell what the buck is going on?!”

“Ohdeboi…” Steve muttered, “it’s going to be one of those days.”

“Rarity, Rarity,” came Fluttershy’s voice; both Steve and Molly turned to the figure entering the now smashed sales floor. Fluttershy, still partly blinded by Steven’s Flash Equip but most of her visual acuity had returned, though the shadows were far darker than she believed they should be. SHe stepped gingerly through the door, avoiding chunks of aluminum and some fractured glass. SHe got as far as the Grand Archmage was standing when she noticed the shell of the Adjudicator.

“AGGHHHHHHHH!”

Pirouetting, stumbling over her feet in a backward retreat, Fluttershy almost fell but she landed in Rarity’s arms. She was grateful for the friendly contact, even in a scene as grisly as this. The animal wrangler was beginning to hyperventilate when she saw the young girl in the room, and also the peeping curiosity of the Crusaders.

“Rarity, what-?”

“I’m as baffled as you are, dear,” Rarity began, “I was hoping these two could explain.”

“Explain?” Steven said, then, “Oh, you mean the shell? I wouldn’t worry; that thing was never alive to begin with.”

“But it’s head is off- it’s head is off-!” Fluttershy murmured.

“Aye, ‘tis is,” Molly added, “it’s either that or rupture the power core and with the cold fusion engine these thin’s are equipped with, ye be lucky you didn’ implode half th’ city.”

“I-implode?” Rarity queried.

“Yeah,” Steven breathed, “these Adjudicators are a kind of cyborg. You know, I almost consider them bionic entities if weren;t for the fact that these constructs are vat grown, with synthesized organic tissues that are then subjected to immense levels of cybernetic implants and augmentations. Fuck,the hardware alone of the system unit, the head, could net you an easy fifty grand, with all the gold and silver solenoids used in it’s architecture.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rarity protested, “that- thing, is some kind of robot? Like something Twilight could cobble together over a weekend or two in her family’s garage?”

“I don’t know this Twilight,” Steven said, “but the kind of parts and equipment in this machine won’t be found in your typical computer store and the power core requires a PhD. in nuclear physics. That said, unless you want to atomize everything and everyone around you for a twenty block radius, you need to remove the central processor from the thoracic core and power supply. That way, you make sure it doesn’t trigger the system’s self destruct protocol.”

“This- is beginning to sound like the pulp sci-fi novels that Zephyr Breeze pretends to read when he’s really looking at the pictorials in Playcolt,” Fluttershy commented.

“Oh, look,the Sanitation Team is here,” Steve stated, “come on in, you guys.”

The “guys” that stepped into the ruined store were actually six gangly teenaged girls and one even ganglier teenaged boy. All were clad in coveralls, hardhats, work boots, and were carrying toolboxes Rarity imagined belonged to a carpenter or other handyman. Fluttershy took note of the tallest of the gangly girls looking upon the corpse of the thing that Steven so ruthlessly slaughtered. She was chewing gum, this girl, and her straw colored hair poked out of her hardhat. On her shoulder was a symbol of broom, spatula, feather duster, and riding crop arrayed in a cross pattern over a magnolia leaf.

“Wow, ain’t seen one of these in some time,” the girl spoke, “looks like a standard HK-206 model- might be some customized equipment in there- House Hephaestus is going to blow a load over this one- We’ll get this cleared out and this place put together as good as new in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Amber,” Steven said, “is Jolene on duty today or is it Perry?”

“Neither,” the girl named Amber said, quietly directing her teammates to various places to effect repairs, “Jolene is proctoring an exam; Perry is on DL after that student at The Furnace.”

“Oh, damn, I almost forgot about that,” Steven mused, “so who’s on?”

“Testerola,” Amber answered, “the ambitious bitch is looking for an elevation, so she volunteered for duty station. I don’t think she expected to be running The Asylum during a hot take, but I guess she’ll prove what’s made of or wash out.”

“I wish her well,” Steven muttered, “I wouldn’t wish that route on my worst enemy.”

“Yeah, I think she’s about to get a taste of what authority is like- Oh, hello! What are you?” Amber said. The straw haired girl lifted a bulbous, translucent piece of plastic with a bit of detached wire hanging from it.

“What is that?” Molly asked.

“I think,” Amber mused, “it’s part of the self-destruct.”

Well, fuck em Freddy sideays,” Steevn commened, “I must have struck theis bitch just shy of the acuator for the SD. Dumb luck?”

“Maybe,” Amber stated, “the boys and girls in Hephestos are going to cream themselves silly tonight.”

“W-wait,” Fluttershy stammered, “this is- this isn’t a- body? It’s more like- a machine? A robot?”

“Uh, not quite,” Steven explained, “more like a- well, I’m not sure it qualifies for a cyborg, really. The organic components are flash cloned then grafted onto a carbon-calcium fiber endoskeletal frame… I guess the better designation is- assassin droid?”

“It dunnae matter what it's called or what it is,” a voice called out from the boutique foyer, “all tha’ matters is done near kill’d me sister and now it’s naught but scrap.”

“Danny,” Molly breathed.

“Fare ye well, Munchkin?”

“As well as can be,” Molly said, “Steve was able to Replenish me but all in all, thin’s could be worse.”

“I’ll say,” Danny spoke, “Steven, well met.”

“Hail fellow,” Steven said, “I can’t imagine you bothering to oversee the Sanitation and PR Committee on a Saturday. There’s already two Pillars on scene. What gives?”

“‘Tis me sist’r,” Danny explains, as if there is no other reason for him to be here, “I was sworn to keep h’r safe. An’ where were ye be playin’, boyo? Of sowin’ wild oats, was ye?”

Fluttershy gasped at the accusation and Steve was glaring daggers at The Primus Legate.

“Danny boy,” Steven growled, “the pipes be callin’ but they be callin’ at yer funeral if’n ye don’t take. That. Back!”

“Ye hadn’t even answ’r’d me when I ast where ye were!” Danny roared.

“Did it ever occur to you that Molly is perfectly capable of defending herself? ANd fuck off, there were NO SIGNS that Adjudicators were prowling Canterlot City! The last time they did, there was a trail of bodies and signs of carnage… For all we know, this was a scout or recon drone!”

“Fellas,” Molly interjected, “none of this testerone dump is gonna get us any closer to figurin’ out where this un come from ‘r what it’s doin’ here. Can ye maybe save it fer the sparrin’ mat? Yer making a spectacle of yeselves.”

Danny looked like he wanted to continue quarreling, but Steven took a breath and turned to the two Canterlot natives.

“Apologies for our rudeness,” Steven said, “Danny and I are- well I guess the kind way to put it is ‘friendly rivals.’ If you needed clarification- we at Imperial Academy call creatures like this, Adjudicators. Synthetic organic material grafted with top flight cybernetics ten generations removed from current technological sophistication levels. These things seek out those with arcane prowess through the use of finely tuned and sophisticated sensors and hunt them down. They, when confronting a magic user of any skill, will either attempt to drain the magic from the nascent mage- or exterminate them. More often than not, the draining attempt kills the mage. They have been after casters like Amber and her crew, Danny, Molly, and myself for as long as is there a recollection of them existing. Miss Rarity, you should count yourself lucky that it didn’t try to track or drain you. Knowing these things as I do, it doesn’t wahat School of Magic you belong to, they will seek you, chase you down, and- murder you.”

“My- my word!” Rarity gasped.

Fluttershy then stated, “Are you feeling, Rarity? Should I get one of your fainting couches?”

“No, no, Fluttershy,” Rarity said, “I shan’t be fainting. Not just yet. I’m pumped on adrenaline but that should fade soon enough… Correct me if I’m wrong but, aren't androids and- and assassin droids not currently unable to be produced?”

“That is true, for most of the major industrial firms,” Steven answered, and Danny continued, “but the folks that built these things stole Academy tech an’ research and hav’ been usin’ it to make our lives hell.”

“But, why?” Fluttershy asked.

Steve, Danny, and Molly looked at each other, as if in a silent conference. Rarity shared a look with her animal loving friend, one of doubt or may be uncertainty. When the trio of Academy students resumed their regular postures, it was Steven who spoke.

“Molly made some comment about some arcane ability in use. And, as of late, the Academy has been detecting magic emissions in and around Canterlot City. I- don;t want to be accusing anyone of anything or for that matter, speak about things that are beyond my understanding. But, if you would like, members of the Academy could come into town, maybe Sunday or late Friday the next, and discuss this with you all. Our scientists and engineers will go over the Adjudicator with an electron microscope and a fine toothed comb. I would advise that if you know of others, no need to name names, with similar ‘powers,’ that they keep those so called abilities under wraps until The Academy can confirm that we aren’t under a covert assault.”

“I’ll- I’ll see if I can gather my friends,” Rarity began, “this Sunday should work for all of us. There’s neutral ground at Sugarcube Corner, if you know where that is.”

“I can find out,” Steven said, “wait, your friends?”

“Uh, it’s not something I would openly admit,” Rarity explains, “but I am far from the only one in Canterlot with, uh, ‘supernatural abilities,’ shall we say? A gathering of those with ‘powers’ might help in determining whether there is an underlying threat to Canterlot in general.”

“I see, I think,” Steven said, “okay, I think we can swing that. You’re friendly with Fluttershy, I assume?”

“Why yes,” Rarity said, giving the quiet girl a very shrew glare, “is that an issue?”

“Not at all,” Steven replied, “when you and your compatriots are ready, you can have Fluttershy text me. We can be there in thirty minutes, maybe less, depending on who is awake by that hour and how much caffeine some of us have ingested.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Rarity said, “oh, your people are very fast!”

“Aye, they are,” Danny spoke, “we at Imperial Academy pride ourselves with our efficiency and alacrity.”

“Well, I guess I know who I can call if I need to build a stage for a showing,” Rarity mused.

“We ain’t mercenaries, miss,” Amber stated.

“Oh, my apologies,” Rarity cooed, “well, Sunday then?”

“Aye, Sunday,” Danny said.

“Steven,” Fluttershy began.

“Text me later,” Steven said, “I have to make sure that all the memory altering charms are effective and lasting. I will keep my promise, though. Everything- everything you would want to know.”

Author's Note

Lot's of exposition, but I did try to throw in some humor there. Let's see if it worked…

8 Burn the Witch

Author's Note

The Rainbooms finally meet the Four Pillars of Imperial Academy but the subject of that meeting screams danger…

8 Burn the Witch

Twilight thought of herself as the paragon of modern efficiency. Under the term “multitasking” in most major and accredited dictionaries, one of the definitions reads, “See Sparkle, T.” At the moment, she was living up to that description, as one hand was scratching at her dog, Spike, behind the ears, the other hand was working on a next generation remote beach camera drone, and speaking with Rarity over video chat on her laptop. Rarity had been recounting the events of that afternoon at her shop. According to Rarity, she was under dire duress and deep danger of being murdered. Twilight didn’t know how much was fact and how much was hyperbole; with Rarity it was difficult to tell.

Rarity had just finished her recount of the conversation she had with the one called, “The Grand Archmage,” as well the time and date of the meeting. The fashionista was also texting with Fluttershy, who seemed to be having an ancillary discussion with someone else. Rarity wasn’t sure who this “Steve” person was, but their timid friend was texting up a storm with them. Twilight, who wasn’t one to claim she was the be-all-know-all guru of interpersonal relationships (save for one particular instance of a Timber Spruce, film at eleven,) but for a demure girl like Fluttershy, this was a major development.

“It all seems a little suspicious to me,” Rarity said, “that this boy turns up at the moment of crisis, in the very nick of time in fact, but I have my worries, Twilight.”

“I think I know what you mean,” the science minded young woman replied, “though I think we may have differing reasons.”

“How so?” Rarity asked.

“It’s about those androids you described,” Twilight began.

“I thought it was a robot?” Rarity opined.

“No,” Twilight said, “the description that these Academy students gave suggests an android, or in this case, a gynoid. You know, a robot in the guise of a man. Well, a woman, in this instance.”

“Oh!” Rarity replied, “so, what are your concerns, dear Twilight?”

“From everything you’ve told me,” Twilight explained, “it sounds like these machines are designed with a sensor module that is calibrated to detect the sort of thaumatical energies that are the result of arcane emissions. I’m not sure what could have caused this machine to act as hostile as it did, but it seems to ro me that it would only do so when it confirms magical essence or thaumatical energy.”

Rarity didn’t speak for a moment then, “I’m sorry darling, but you lost me after ‘designed.’”

“Oh, Rarity,” Twilight mused, “let me simplify. You see, these machines are a kind of magic detector, like my old pendant. And it became violent when it was certain it had tracked down the magical source.”

“Oh, that does make sense,” Rarity sigherd, “Well, as frightening as this all was, the one good thing is that I didn’t need to close the Carousel Boutique for repairs or renovations.”

“It is sort of interesting how efficiently the Academy teams were able to render effective restoration of the damages done to your shop. I wonder how much experience these people have?”

“That does beggar many a question,” Rarity confirmed, “in any case, will you be able to come to this meeting tomorrow?”

“It’s at Sugarcube Corner, right?” Twilight asked.

“That’s what I’ve come to understand,” Rarity replied, “I hope we can all get some answers as to what happened and more importantly, why.”

“Yes, why indeed,” Twilight said.

Fluttershy had spent most of the night Saturday texting with Steven, trying to parse some of the insanity that occurred that afternoon. (This was after a few minutes screaming into her pillow, with Angel Bunny looking on in confusion.) She was unused to the wall of text explanations that Steve sent her, which did it’s best to rehash what had already been explained earlier. Conversations with her friends were very dynamic in comparison, with replies sent in seconds whereas Steve’s replies took several minutes. He did apologize because he was typing out replies with a bluetooth keyboard because he was not very good with a phone’s onscreen keyboard.

The gist of the things he told Fluttershy were almost too fantastical to believe. If she had not learned one of her best friends was a pony from a dimension of sophant, magical equines, or that powerful foes of that dimension were trapped in her world still possessed of their chaos making, energy draining powers, then she might have not believed all that he was telling her. Even so, a substrate of humans with the ability to channel “mana” and use it to generate magical effects. It didn’t sound like the kind of magic she and her friends used, but then again, they all had magic pendants. (And Wallflower had that stone, but that’s a different story altogether.)

Even so, Fluttershy just couldn’t dismiss the possibility, as unlikely as it seemed given what Princess Twilight told them, that there were humans hidden amongst the general populace that could use magic. She also could not dismiss the alleged automations called “adjudicators,” because if history were any indication of human proclivities, the existence of humans with arcane abilities would cause panic and panic had a nasty way of turning into a twisted form of xenophobia. The Spanish Inquisition, which none should be expecting, the Salem Witchcraft Trials, the rumors of satanic rituals in New England and the Pacific Northwest… There were plenty of examples of human intolerance to the preternatural.

Fluttershy was starting to feel sleepy (it was already two in the morning and Steve was still typing,) so she began a message telling him she was going to bed when she saw that he had one last message for her as well.

I know today (well yesterday) was supposed to be fun for both of us. I did have fun at the petting zoo. Really sorry about throwing you and your friend into the thick of things. I’ll try to make up for that, asap. I’m thinking of a movie, a trip to my favorite ice cream shop, and maybe some time at the carnival? I can see about getting any prize you like, for as long as I have money to play. Methinks we should both be asleep rn, so TTFN.

Okay, so maybe her Saturday was more eventful and traumatic than she would prefer, but the idea that her new friend was willing to compensate for a perfect day going sideways? It put a small smile on Fluttershy’s face. After setting her phone down on the charger and settling into her bed, Fluttershy went to sleep. It would be a fitful sleep, full of nightmares of her friends mangled corpses and a Terminator like machine hounding her at every step… but she wouldn’t remember much of it anyways.

Sunset was the first of her friends to arrive at Sugarcube Corner. Given what she was told by Rarity last night, and by Fluttershy earlier this morning, there was something going on in Canterlot that might require their unique experience in magical happenstance. The Equestrian-in-Exile was very familiar with enemies of a thaumatical nature; though this automaton called an adjudicator was something beyond her expertise, it presented a slew of new problems that could harm her friends or even herself. She was certain that if these machines were anything like Twilight’s magic tracking pendant, that whatever they were doing was about to cause some serious headaches.

As Sunset waited at the girls favorite corner booth, she saw Wallflower come in. The newcomer in their friend group, Wallflower was still getting used to being visible to anyone. It showed in that she was shyly clinging to the edge of the shop, being as much her namesake as possible. When Sunset waved at the girl, she saw Wallflower start in surprise before a smile sprang unto her face. The girl very carefully picked her way through the lunchtime crowd to join her newest friend.

“I’m glad to see you here, Wallflower,” Sunset beamed, “not much going on this Sunday?”

Wallflower shook her head, “I was just going to do some gardening, maybe read a book or something.”

“Sounds cozy,” Sunset replied, “do you want anything?”

“Uh,” Wallflower hesitated but when she saw Sunny smile brightly at her, she added, “a hot cocoa sounds good.”

“Coming right up!” Pinkie beamed, doing her best impression of a piranha plant.

“Pinkie!” Wallflower gasped, clutching her chest, “How did you-? How did she-? Why does she do that?”

“I’ve taken to theorizing that Pinkie has a neurological condition,” Sunset began, “it’s called, ‘doing things for lulz.’ She doesn’t mean any harm, really. She just likes seeing people smile. Just don’t delve too deeply into how she does what she does. Twilight spent three weeks trying to discern Pinkie’s antics into a scientific research paper and only ended up with a massive migraine. The poor girl…”

“Oh,” Wallflower breathed, “well, that’s good to know?”

Sunset inquired, “You’re not sure?”

“Not yet,” Wallflower responded, “but I’ll let you know when my pulse returns to normal.”

“Right, right,” Sunset mused, “you’ll get used to it eventually.”

“Okay,” Wallflower stated as Pinkie reappeared with her hot cocoa, which Wallflower paid for.

A few minutes later, Twilight walked in, carrying her dog, Spike. The science girl waved at Sunset and Wallflower, spotted Pinkie working at the counter and ordered a latte. The Twilight headed for the corner booth and sat down; Spike leapt from her lap and settled into Wallflower’s. The shy girl was a little surprised by the action but was soon scratching the little dog’s ears, a happy grin on her face.

“He’s really taking a like to her,” Twilight mused, “do you have any pets of your own, Wallflower?”

“Not really,” the girl answered, “my mother is allergic to all kinds of animal dander. My father is not what I would call an animal person. Our house isn’t very big, so keeping a pet is a challenge. But that’s okay, I have my garden and that’s good enough for me.”

Twilight looked upon Wallflower. This was more insight into a very lonely girl that she hadn’t thought about before the Lost Memories Incident. Now that Wallflower was part of the Rainbooms, Twilight was sure the lonely girl would never be lonely again. Even though Spike was her dog, and a talking dog now no less, he looked at home in Wallflower’s lap. Her pampering was definitely winning favor in the eyes of the canine.

“Well, if you ever want to play with Spike, you could go over to my house,”Twilight offered, “we have a good sized yard and all of Spike’s toys are there. You can play with him to your heart’s content.”

“T-t-thank you, Twilight,” Wallflower beamed, “I’ll think you take you up on that offer.”

Twilight beams, “I’m happy to help.”

Several minutes later, Applejack turned up, jumping out of the Sweet Apple Acres truck manned by her older brother. Pinkie has her good friend’s favorite drink and an apple fritter ready when the cowgirl drifts into the shop. Applejack takes her snacks, pays the charge, and walks towards her friends. After setting herself across from Wallflower, Applejack takes a drink from her large coffee (nothing fancy for the orchard worker,) and sets up her booted feet upon the ottoman/coffee table where the others have set their drinks.

“Are ya’ll the only ones here yet?” Applejack asked.

“So far,” Sunset replies, “I got a text from Rarity saying she was picking up Fluttershy at her house. She told me that Shy was up pretty late, so she was in no condition to drive today.”

“Ah, I see,” Applejack said, “any idea what kept Shy up so late?”

“Rarity explained that she was talking with one of the players of more recent events,” Sunset explained.

“Them players what are comin’ today to talk with us all?” Applejack asked.

Sunset nodded.

“Ya’ll think this has somethin’ to do with our pendants?” Applejack asked.

“From what I understand,” Twilight answered, “our pendants are a point of discussion, but it’s more about a new factor in the world that we didn’t know existed.”

“Like what?” Wallflower asked.

“Other humans with magic, I suppose,” Twilight said.

“And other humans that have designs on those with said magic,” Sunset added, “it has something to do with that boy I saw the other day…”

“Ya mean that weird guy that came through the drive through?”

Rainbow Dash was now standing near Sunset, a frappe in hand. When she had showed up, none now knew, but hers was a welcome voice in this discussion.

“I think it’s possible,” Sunset affirmed, “you felt it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I kinda did,” Rainbow replied, “I’m not sure I felt exactly what you did, Sunny, but I did get something out of that night. It was like- a wave or a breeze that swept through me. It didn’t hurt but it was kinda weird.”

“That’s pretty close to what I got,” Sunset said, “but it was also like I was getting scrutinized from a distance. The last time I felt like that was I was last in Princess Celestia’s presence.”

“Who?” Wallflower asked.

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you about that,” Sunset asked, “remember how I explained about my- otherworldly origins?”

“Oh,” Wallflower said, “yes, I remember and how there are some people here that are duplicates of the ponies you knew back home?”

“Yup, that’s right. Well, one of the leaders of the nation I was born in, in the world from whence I came, is named Princess Celestia. Not to be confused with the principal, though she is a lot like The Princess. She was- my mentor, my idol- and, much to my own chagrin, ersatz mother figure.”

“Oh,” Wallflower repeated, then said, “is that why you sometimes say things like, ‘Sweet Celestia,’ and ‘by Celestia’s magnificent horn?’”

“Yeah,” Rainbow confirmed, “and after seeing Princess Twilight, we kinda get where that came from.”

“Another princess?” Wallflower asked.

“Eeyup,” Applejack confirmed, “she’s a bit like our Twilight-”

“But not exactly like,” Twilight confirmed.

“Yeah, even kinda sounds like her,” Applejack continued, “but she- it’s kinda hard to describe th’ differences, actually. Ya’ll have to see her yerself.”

“I-” Wallflower began, “I would- actually like to have that happen.”

“Well, if I can arrange it,” Sunset said, “I’ll see if Princess Twilight is available. She has a lot on her plate right now, so I can make no promises.”

“It’s okay,” Wallflower stated, “I can wait.”

“Good afternoon, darlings!” rang Rarity’s voice as she entered the shop, winter skirt fluttering around her; Fluttershy followed close behind, in a pair of jeans in her favorite hue of green and a cashmere turtleneck. While Rarity was alert and effervescent, Fluttershy was subdued and listless. She really had been rather late the night before. Rarity ordered a latte from Pinkie but to everyone’s surprise, Fluttershy ordered a triple espresso with a cruller. Like Wallflower, the quiet animal wrangler usually took to hot cocoa so a triple espresso was like Pinkie running Sugarcube Corner all hopped up on uppers. Well, that might not be entirely true, but for their soft spoken friend, it was a rather drastic departure from norms.

“You okay, Fluttershy,” Sunset asked as she watched her good friend take a seat across from the now perched Rainbow.

“Imma exhausted,” Fluttershy slurred, “yesterday afternoon’s adrenaline didn’t fade after I got home. I was talking to Steve for most of the night and into the morning and Zephyr was hogging the bathroom when I woke up. All in all? Worst. Morning. Ever.”

“Ooooo,” Pinkie crooned as she wondered over to where her friends had congregated, “tell us all this ‘Steve.’”

“He was there yesterday,” Rarity began, “at my boutique when I was- well, it wasn’t me that- construct was attacking, not originally, but it did a fine job of wrecking my store.”

“Was he the one that destroyed it in the end?” Twilight asked.

“Indeed,” Rarity affirmed, "with that mighty large hammer of his. I don’t understand half of what he said last night but I was under the assumption that he and some of his own were coming here to better explain.”

“He’s coming,” Fluttershy muttered, “‘ETA - 15 minutes.’”

“Did he just call ya?” Applejack asked.

“No, I texted him on the way over,” Fluttershy answered.

“You. Texted him?” Rainbow asked; Fluttershy nodded.

“This is getting juicy,” Pinkie crooned.

“Not right now, Pinkie,” Sunset stated, “did ‘Steve’ tell you how many were coming?”

Fluttershy nodded, adding, “he told me ‘the four pillars would be dropping by.’ I didn’t ask him what that meant, but he did say I would be seeing him today.”

“Sunny, Sunny, can I? Can I?” Pinkie vibrated.

“Not right now, Pinkie,” Sunset said.

“Hey, uh, I don’t know what relevance this has to do with anything,” Rainbow said, “but a limo just pulled up to The Sugarcube.”

The Rainbooms, plus Wallflower, turned to the direction that Rainbow Dash was pointing (Rarity whipped her head around so fast, she gave Twilight some hair whiplash,) and watched as a silvery limousine stopped at the curb of Sugarcube Corner. A crest of sorts, sporting a stylized globe with a phoenix hovering over it with twelve stars arrayed around it, was emblazoned on the passenger doors. The driver, a young man in a crisp uniform not all that dissimilar to a chauffeurs suit, exited the vehicle, strode to the nearest passenger door, and opened it.

The first person to exit the car was a tall and muscular young man in a military style uniform (in a grey, black, and red motif that Rarity found striking if a bit garish,) Upon his pate was a watch cap, in matching colors to his uniform, and he was shod in military boots that reached up to his knees. This man stood aside to allow for a young woman (Rarity recognized Miss Molly,) in a sleek business suit which was a platinum grey, coupled to a white blouse, gold tie, all wrapped under a warm gray cloak. On her head was a fedora, an actual fedora, that did little to hide her curly ginger mane. She moved to the other side of the door away from the military man.

The next person to exit was a handsome young woman in a seafoam kimono, patterned with golden maple leaves. Her blonde tresses were thrown into an elegant bun, a la geisha style, and she carried a hakoseko, carrying it by the strings. The geta she wore were fashioned from a dark maple wood which clacked lightly on the concrete sidewalk. Her carriage was one of import and leadership, something both Rarity and Sunset noted without much trouble.

The very last person stepping out of the limo was one Rarity and Fluttershy knew but the others were not. The Grand Archmage’s cloak was a midnight blue, with silver piping along the edges and runes of some ancient tongue inlaid into the fabric with gold. Under the cloak, he wore a plain black thermal henley, coupled with a silver turtleneck and a gaiter that matched that turtleneck. His trousers were also black, but of a sturdy canvas material, burdened with plenty of pockets. Rarity, specifically, was no fan of cargo pants, but on the Grand Archmage it seemed to work rather well. Black work boots were on his feet, and he had a satchel strapped across his chest.

The Rainbooms watched as a small conversation occurred with Imperial Academy students, then as one, marched to the door. The Military Man stepped in first and now that he was in the light of fluorescents, Rarity recognized the young man introduced the day before as Danny, Molly’s older brother. Molly followed afterward, then the young lady in the kimono, then the Grand Archmage himself. They spotted the Rainbooms, a little surprised by their number, and came over.

“Rarity, Fluttershy,” Steve greeted, “you did say you had a few friends. I’ll admit, I thought this might mean two or three others… What we have here is almost enough for a football team.”

“I didn’t think we would have such an audience,” the young woman said, “but I can be sure these here are in need of the explanations and warnings we have to give.”

“Indeed,” Sunset stated, “I guess introductions are in order. I’m Sunset Shimmer.”

“The iconic and awesome Rainbow Dash!”

“Applejack Apple.”

“I’m Pinkie Pie!”

“Rarity Carousel, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“My name is Twilight Sparkle.”

“I’m Fluttershy.”

“Uh, I’m Wallflower.”

“We call ourselves the Rainbooms,” Sunset added.

“Are ye a band?” Molly asked.

“Well, we do play instruments,” Rarity explained, “but we also think of ourselves as mascots for Canterlot High.”

“That’s more true than you can imagine,” Sunset said.

“Ah,” the young woman, “then I guess we should introduce ourselves as well. I am The Matron of Imperial Academy, First of House Majesty, Meghan Ann Williams.”

“Imma Primus Legate of House Praetorian, Daniel Anderson Douglas McAllister.”

“Rarity and Fluttershy know of me, but not me title; hello, all, I am First Sage of House Intelligentsia, Molly Catherine Elizabeth Williams.”

“Good morning, Vault Hunters! I am The Grand Archmage of House Endymion, Steven Edwin Ambrose.”

“Vault hunters?” Sunset asked.

“I’m more than a little obsessed with the Borderlands videogames,” Steven explained.

“Aye, he is,” Danny added, “he ev’n has hisself a model of that ship from Borderlands 3. Wassit call’d? Sanctuary 3?”

“Yes it is,” Steven breathed, “and I would like to know how you know about that.”

“Gentlemen,” Meghan ordered, “now is the time for your regularly scheduled testosterone dumps. We have business here and we should get to it.”

“My apologies, Matron,” Danny said. Steve said nothing.

“Grand Archmage?”

“I have nothing I should apologize for,” Steve stated, “my privacy was invaded in some fashion and I would, eventually, like to know how that came to be. Even so, you do have a point. Brass tacks, then?”

“Yes,” Meghan said cooly, “the witty patter is done away.”

Taking to the few empty seats still available in the corner, the four Imperial Academy students arrayed themselves before the Rainbooms. Meghan was perched on an ottoman with such regal poise that Sunset could only ascribe to Princess Celestia. Danny took one of the wooden slat chairs from a nearby table, turned it around backwards and laid his arms on the back of the chair. Molly plopped himself into a squashy plump seat nearby Rarity, looking a little out place in this establishment but beaming all the same. Steve, on the other hand, moved his hands in such a way that it appeared ritualistic, the Rainbooms felt a rush of air sweep over them that had little effect on the other customers, then he conjured a modern office chair crafted with mesh and dropped into that.

“Concealment charm,” Steve said, to the baffled faces of the Rainbooms, “none can hear what we’re talking about or witness any craftwork in action. That’s in case we need any more magic to be cast, though that might not be necessary.”

“Uh, okay,” Sunset said, “but why?”

“Sometimes,” Meghan began, “our- foes have paid informants or spies mixed among any populace. The chance of our presence being detected here can cause trouble for everyone not of magical heritage, so a concealment charm will mask any castings and prevent eavesdropping by hostiles.”

“That is one way to insure your privacy,” Rarity said, “so, where shall we begin?”

Meghan said, “let us start with the most basic of things. What do you all know of magic?”

“Magic is dormant here,” Sunset stated, “short of acquiring, uh, certain artifacts or originating from- well, let’s say, not born here- no one here has any magic whatsoever.”

“A reasonable assumption,” Meghan replied, “but a false assumption, nonetheless.”

“Pardon me?” Sunset asked.

“As you said, you believe that magic is ‘dormant.’ The experience of those of us attending The Imperial Academy, we have determined that magic isn’t so much as dormant as it is a recessive trait in the human genome.”

“Come again, darling?” Rarity mused.

“Yer’ll wearin’ them neckl’ces,” Danny said, “I may not be some Endymion House mage, but even I can sense yer all have magic origination’ from them pendants. And to be honest, unless yer all possessed of magic b’fore, then them pendants ain’t gonna do a damn thing.”

“I can confirm,” Molly added, passing a compact she retrieved from her pocket over the girls, “the Alleles are there, but they’re recessive but not the majority of ‘em. Those pendants are generating an arcane essence but it does look as if some of the alleles ya’ll possess are triggered. That especially true of you, Miss Sunset… No, wait, that ain’t right?”

“Lemme see, Molls?” Steven asked, and Molly showed him something in her compact, “well, I would never have guessed. Ms. Sunset, is there something you’re not telling us?”

“Uh,” Sunset stammered, “whatever do you mean?”

“What are ye meanin’, boyo?” Danny asked.

“Color me intrigued as well,” Meghan added.

“Ms. Shimmer here,” Steven began, “isn’t what we nominally call human. I mean sure, she has the standard human double helix would one consider as the norm for homo sapiens sapiens… but, there’s also a magically compressed aspect to those genes that suggests xenoterristrial origins… Methinks an explanation is in order.”

“Oh dear,” Rarity breathed, “I was afraid this might come up.”

“It's okay, Rarity, girls,” Sunset started, “it was bound to come up, given all we’ve been through. So, uh, where to begin?”

“Th’ beginnin’ be nice,” Molly quipped.

“Well, yeah, given,” Sunset stammered, “so, uh, yeah, I’m- not really from this dimension. Where I come from- humans are kinda of legendary creatures of chaos, ponies rule most of the planet, magic is not only real but every creature has some to one degree or another and I’m magical, miniature, pastel colored equine. Who is also a unicorn. And was once the protege of the most powerful leader of the planet.”

Meghan said, “That…”

Then Danny, “…is…”

“SO FECKIN’ AWESOME!” Molly squealed.

“Oh, come on!” Steven complained, “it was my turn to do the incredulous bit of that skit!”

“Wait, what?” Sunset wondered.

“Well, to be perfectly blunt,” Meghan began, “our instruments have been detecting some rather odd thaumatic frequencies coming from the direction of Canterlot High. We were never sure why they started or where they were coming from, we just knew that it was a foreign signature… Or, more accurately, it was a frequency that didn’t match up with any of the known magical elements in this world. Imperial Academy has long held the belief that there were only three schools of magic and it was only until three years ago did we see signs of a fourth. An exotic form of magic to us, but seemingly well versed to the world itself. So, if this is evidence of a fourth school- then we can only assume it’s origins are either outside of this world- or were an aspect of this world’s magical energies until very recently. House Intelligentsia and House Endymion are still debating over that.”

“So, you have no problem with me being a pony from another world?” Sunset asked.

“Inf’n’te d’vers’ty in inf’n’te combos,” Danny stated, “that’s how goes, right?”

“I think I hear Gene Roddenberry cursing from the grave,” Steve said, “but generally speaking, you’re correct.”

“Wow, nerd much?” Rainbow asked.

“Why yes, thank you for noticing!” Steven beamed.

“All that aside,” Molly said, “what happ’n’d yesterday was a chance fluke. But, after what Miss Rarity performed, I have no doubt them Adjudicators are going to pick this town apart wit’ a fine tooth comb.”

Wallflower then asked, “what exactly are these adjudicators?”

The Imperials then provided a short but thorough briefing of the capabilities, powers, and directives of the Adjudicators. By the end, even Rainbow Dash, the bravest of the Rainbooms, was green to her gills. The discussion involved the varied methods the androids used to extract magic, though not in the kind of grisly detail that most Imperial Academy students knew about. It was a sobering message for the Rainbooms.

“Well that was disturbing,” Sunset moaned, “and you think we can expect these machines to pop up again?”

“More than certain,” Meghan answered, “the pendants most of you were have arcane energy signatures that the Adjudicators would know to actively track. And unfortunately for you, Miss Wallflower, you now also possess an arcane signature. Keeping near your friends may help mitigate the droids ability to detect you, but given that Adjudicators have a proven track record of stealth and covert insertion plus integration, pointing one out is going to be difficult until one has been fully activated. To be perfectly honest, we can only tell when one is in range of our mage senses, and even then, it’s a toss up.”

Meghan added, “And by that point, you’ll be engaged by an Adjudicator anyway.”

“So, what do we do?” Sunset asked.

“For the moment, hold off on using your pendants or any other magical artifacts or powers,” Steve suggested, “until we can be certain that Adjudicators aren’t aiming for Canterlot City, caution must be taken around using magic of any sort.”

“I am going to be safe?” Wallflower asked.

“If the magic you used was based on an extra-tangential artifact, then I don’t think you’ll be targeted specifically,” Steven answered, “but I would use the precautions we outlined here especially if you start seeing people strange to you.”

“Like yourself?” Rainbow joked.

“That’s not even the realm of funny,” Meghan stated, “what we’re cautioning you all specifically is to be on the lookout for anyone tailing you at a distance or doing everything they can to remain inconspicuous.”

“Oooo, like James Blonde?” Pinkie asked.

“Ugh, I never liked those films,” Danny groaned.

“I was thinking more like ‘Burn Notice,’” Steven added, “but yeah, similarly.”

“Should we be expecting shootouts in the street anytime soon?” Rarity asked, and promptly received confused glares form her friends.

“You like the ‘James Blonde’ films?” Applejack asked.

“Well, yes,” Rarity answered, only for the glares to continue, “what? The man is well dressed and the ladies he woos are very fashionable and elegant. The action is a little over the top but I do like the espionage aspect. My dream crossover would Mr. Blonde and Shadow Spade! The chic detective and the debonair spy? Oh, be still my beating heart!”

“Rarity, I love ya, but you’re a weirdo.” Rainbow Dash opines.

“Oh, my, goodness,” Meghan beams, “you read Shadow Spade?! I love her!”

“Isn’t she amazing?” Rarity replies.

“Ach, great,” Danny moaned, “those ‘r’ gonna go on an’ on about their favorite fictional heroine…”

“Yea, verily,” Molly confirmed, “we need t’ get these two separated before they start a mutual admiration society.”

At that moment, four sets of smartphones rang with notices. Steve was the first to procure his form a pocket within his robes. He looked at what was on the screen and paled. So did Danny, Molly, and Meghan. In their little sphere of silence, The Rainbooms looked on in confusion until Steve rose suddenly.

“We need to go,” he said tersely, “something just happened that requires our attention- Keep to your daily routines, go to school and jobs, but if you anyone who seems suspicious to you, call us on these.”

Steve then handed the Rainbooms, and Wallflower, something akin to a pager, but as thin as a credit card, set within a dark gray rubberized strap. The surface of the credit card device flashed with symbols as each one took their device. It was Applejack who slapped onto her wrist; it seemed to function like a watch but there was more going on the virtual crystal than any watch had business to display.

“These are P-HATs,” Steve said, “they’re kinda like smartwatches, but the screen is able to project a hard light holographic display. It will respond to your voices and if you say ‘the gods are dead,’ then that should alert everyone of us,” he gestured to Danny, Molly, and Meghan, “and we’ll be there with all alacrity. I’m sorry we need to cut this short but- there seems to be some Adjudicator activity at the edge of the city and we need to investigate.”

The shocked Rainbooms said hasty goodbyes to their Imperial acquaintances; the four left quickly, with Steve leaving a twenty dollar bill on the table for their drinks. The four Imperials entered their limo with all haste and drove away, leaving the girls stunned- and very very scared.