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.