Author's Note

Well, this took a lot of time. I admit that pone isn't my go-to hobby anymore, but still. Game of Pones began without a storyboard, and I quickly realized that wasn't going to fly after looking at my graveyard of projects. As such, I've been busy over the last months drafting a storyboard for this work and that's why it's gone so long without an update. Enjoy.

A big thanks to my patrons for helping support my passion.

https://www.patreon.com/fuggmann

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“A bit to the left, Sire. Bring your brows together juuuust a little, and smile a bit more… Perfect!” The smiling stallion holding a paintbrush in his teeth turns back to the canvas set-up before him. With dexterity and expertise, he mixes some paint on the palette held in his hoof and produces your skin color perfectly before he returns to painting.

In one of the sunlit parlors of the crystal palace with a beautiful snowflake mosaic window behind you, you sit still and hold a pose for your official portrait.

You are Anonymous, King of the Crystal Empire.

It’s been a scant three days since you took power, and they’ve been an exhausting three days indeed.

You’ve been sorely tempted to micromanage everything, but quickly found out that a real kingdom is much more time-intensive than any civilization-simulator when you can’t pull up all of its information on the fly. Emerald Quill proved herself unequivocally valuable in this regard, as servants and guards continually feed her updates on anything and everything. Granted, even then, she doesn’t know everything going on at any given time, meaning you have to trust your ministers to do their jobs well.

A bulk of your time was spent with Amethyst Lens and Onyx Scale trying to get a plan of action in place to restore the ravaged economy of the Empire. It’d already been agreed that taxes would be slashed across the board for this year, and Amethyst’s team-members are currently debating your idea of keeping taxes low or even non-existent for the following year as well.

Onyx, meanwhile, has been a one-mare-whirlwind; working tirelessly to get the Empire’s commerce back up to speed - already she’d staffed the empire’s largest hospital with the help of a crown-backed loan for supplies. Now she’s working to bring local businesses providing critical services back to life. She'd put things like food processing and storage at the forefront of her agenda, and is slowly but surely working her way down.

It’s still too early in the growing season for Ruby to have anything meaningful to report, but Quill said the fiery mare is optimistic due to how quickly the Heart was restored.

Silver and Shatter Point have both been radio-silent so far. Silver is still presumably deep in her staff audit, trying to ferret out traitors, and Shatter has been dealing with a sudden flood of recruits following Sombra’s death. Many are new, but members of the old guard were welcomed back into the fold as well, providing valuable experience for the new blood. Her three hundred troops ballooned to five hundred and some change in just three days.

Guildmaster Channel has been running herself ragged leading the alchemists, the engineers, and the few remaining runecraft experts. You had Amethyst forward Channel a substantial budget increase so she could begin offering free lessons as an incentive for ponies to take up runecrafting as a career. Getting everything organized for the first wave of interested ponies has left Channel with little free time.

As you hold your pose, you let your eyes wander to the pony painting your portrait.

Honestly, having a portrait of yourself seems unnecessary - bordering on narcissistic, even - but Quill asserted that a monarch needs a proper representation of themselves captured forever. You eventually caved to the cute mare’s insistent requests, already aware that - as royalty - your time is going to be divided into matters that genuinely are important, and those that only appear as such. In any case, you return to inspecting the artist.

He’s devoid of clothes, which seems to be the norm for ponies without a noble station or job that requires coverings. Nudity is clearly no taboo in this land since pony tails do little to hide their modesty, but something else interests you more.

On the stallion’s rump and grown into his crystalline coat is a picture of a wooden-handled paintbrush dipped in a rainbow spilling forth from a paint can.

Cutie marks, they’re called. Certainly not the name you would have used to describe them, but that’s not really anything you can change. Anyway, they’re a phenomenon born of magic. Apparently when a pony discovers their true calling in life - their destined-talent - a cutie mark spontaneously manifests with a vague depiction of said talent. A paintbrush is a fairly obvious one.

Your eyes move over to the attendant who sits out of the way in a different part of the parlor. The mare is watching you carefully. Quill, who discarded her dress after the first day, revealed her cutie mark to be a gilded quill dipped in shining green ink; a bit more esoteric. Is she good at writing? Bookkeeping? Or is her talent something else only tangentially related?

Sombra kept a fairly extensive personal library of books on magic; one that you claimed for yourself as your new quarters (once the various traps inside were neutralized, of course). Unfortunately for now, there doesn’t seem to be anything in your new collection that looks like beginner reading, so you'll have to visit the palace library on the main-floor for a real place to begin. You’ve got a feeling that a basic mastery of the subject is going to be a must-have.

“There we have it!” The portrait taker exclaims with a smile. He sets his brush and palette down then turns his easel around, showing you his work.

A damn-near-perfect portrait stares back at you. The painting sports a small smile, relaxed eyes, and lacks any blemish that you have. The lighting is captured well, and the mosaic window is positioned behind the portrait’s head like a jagged, glowing halo of blue. The painting captures your head and shoulders, where your white-furred mantle and dark-blue cloak begin.

The palace tailor was absolutely beside himself that one of his apprentice tailors made you a common cloak for your first royal announcement, and practically ripped it off of you when you returned inside. He then took your measurements and made the masterpiece that now sits on your shoulders, ignoring your request for something less ostentatious. Just the gold, sapphire-decorated front clasp that holds the magnificent thing together has to be worth more than a whole year's worth of your wages back home. Considering that you’ve yet to feel too hot or too cold at all while dailying the cloak, you’re willing to bet that some sort of cooked-in magic or runecraft is regulating your temperature.

Other parts of your wardrobe are taking longer, and you get the feeling that your tailor is going to employ selective hearing when you speak to him next regarding your clothes. In the meantime, some casual wear and your belted-on revolver go unnoticed under the cloak.

“Your talent is understated, Sir Pastel,” you give the stallion a wide smile, and his face lights up at the praise. “It’s beautiful, and I mean that in the least narcissistic way possible,” you chuckle. “The crown will be delighted to make use of your skills in the near future, I’m certain.”

“T-Thank you, Sire! That means the world to me!” Pastel’s smile is almost blinding.

By the parlor door stands a pair of guardsmares holding spears and a single maid ready for an order. You signal the maid with a gesture, and the mare quickly approaches and stands silently.

“Have Mr. Pastel’s painting framed and put in the bare spot Sombra’s left behind in the library, please,” You tell her. “...What happened to his portrait, anyway?”

“My King, your servants took the liberty of disposing of it at the earliest opportunity,” The maid‘s muzzle twitches with a suppressed smirk. “Other effects of the disgraced king were taken down as well.”

You hum. ‘So that's why a bunch of places around the palace seem bare.’ Outwardly, you nod. “I understand. Thank you.”

The maid inclines her head, then turns to Pastel. “Sir, please follow me and we’ll have your artwork hung post-haste.”

As the maid and artist leave the parlor, you stand from the comfy, but just a little too snug white-leather chair and stretch. Quill is quick to hop to her hooves as well and retake her place on your right side.

“What's next on today’s agenda, Quill?” You groan when you feel a kink in your back release.

“You wished to visit Sergeant Lazuli next, followed by overseeing the progress on the Crystal Fair preparations, Sire,” Quill rattles off perfectly. “Also, Guildmaster Channel is requesting an audience when you have time.”

What could Channel need you for? “Right, let’s see Channel after visiting the sergeant, then.” You start towards the double doors of the parlor with Quill half a step in front of you, and the guards are quick to open them for you.

The walk to the palace infirmary doesn’t take long. On the way, you pass a guard patrol who all stop to salute, and a stallion servant who stops to bow before moving on.

‘It’s flattering the first few times, but that's definitely something I’ll have to get used to…” You think, watching the servant hurry onward.

Quill, sharp as ever, seems to pick up on your feelings. “Do you not enjoy being bowed to, Your Majesty?” She asks, looking up at you with her vivid greens. “I can arrange a new palace-wide acknowledgment for you if you so wish.”

“It’s not that, Quill,” you shake your head. “Whether they bow or not makes no difference to me. I’m sure you’ve already noticed that I’m not, ah, exactly from a noble line, right?”

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. You spy her large eyes narrowing just a little, as if in deep thought. Then; “Yes, Your Highness. Your origin matters not to myself or anypony else, however.” She shakes her head. “Your deeds are of much more merit than your blood. You are both our King and our Hero.”

Again, you hear the capital H she puts on hero and feel an unsure smile rise to your lips. “I was little more than a commoner back home. Born to a poor family and beneath the notice of most. That doesn’t bother you?”

“None!” She insists with a shake of her head, making her shimmering emerald mane dance in the light. “I know you were a commoner in name only, Sire, for what sort of commoner would save a nation not his own and shoulder the burden of monarchy? Your actions speak magnitudes louder than any words, and that is why we all swore ourselves to your service.” She blinks, then blushes a faint pink and clears her throat. “My apologies for raising my voice, Sire. It’s simply that…” She stops and blushes a little deeper when you run a hand through her mane.

“There’s no need to apologize, Quill,” You smile, then realize you let your hand move without thinking again. You pull your hand away sheepishly. “Ah, sorry about that. I shouldn’t let my hands wander like that.”

It takes a second for the light-gray mare to compose herself. “No one will oppose your touch, your Majesty,” she clears her throat into her hoof as the last bit of red on her muzzle bleeds away, leaving her with a much more dignified expression. “Princess Amore was rather tactile herself, and the ponies of the empire delighted in her affection. I daresay most would be honored that you’d deign to acknowledge them in such a way.”

‘Ponies won’t mind..?’ You furrow your brows. ‘I got the impression that being touchy-feely was more common here, but… Nah, I’m not going to question it so deeply. Ponies are soft, and I, as King, declare my right to pet them if I feel like it. Any who oppose me will be sentenced to an awkward hug.’ You chuckle and grin. “As you say, Quill.”

At the infirmary, the guardsmare by the door quickly pushes it open for you and Quill, letting you into the waiting area beyond.

Inside, you’re surprised by how large the space is. Like the rest of the palace, the waiting room is constructed of crystal but comes off much less opulent and more pragmatic, likely due to its simple wooden furniture and spartan layout. Above, glowing orbs of crystal provide gentle light, and at the end of the room is a front desk with a tired, pink-coated stallion nurse holding his head in his hoof. By his desk is a large door that likely leads into the infirmary proper.

The instant you begin to approach, the nurse perks up. “Your Majesty! Minister Quill! Welcome! What can I do for you?” He asks with a smile.

“I was hoping to see Sergeant Lazuli, the heroic mare who retrieved the Heart. Is she well enough to receive visitors?” You ask, folding your hands behind your back.

“She is. She’s actually due for discharge today and is cleared to return to duty.” The nurse hops down from his seat and trots to the large door behind him. “I’ll take you to her, Highness. Please follow me.”

You follow the nurse’s hoofsteps and look around as you do so. The main infirmary hallway is lined with doors leading to different hospital rooms, and an unfortunate number of them are occupied. Unlike the guards and servants, the medical staff just give you brief greetings before returning to work.

“The infirmary isn’t understaffed, is it?” You ask, unable to totally mask your worry. “Do you need more help up here?”

The pink-coated nurse just shakes his head. “We’re fine, Your Majesty. No need to worry about us,” he smiles again, but now that you're looking for it, you can see the bags under his eyes. “Majordomo Sleek Silver already allocated us more hooves.”

“You or someone else would tell me if you did need anything, correct?” You press, looking at one of the open rooms where a thin, pale mare is talking quietly to a doctor. The sight of her makes your chest uncomfortably tight. “There’s no problem I’m not willing to hear.”

The pink nurse lets out a short, exhausted laugh, but his big, expressive eyes are full of genuine happiness. “Again, thank you, Your Majesty. We’ll manage.”

He leads you to a room around halfway down the hall, then gently knocks on the closed door. “Sergeant? His Majesty, King Anonymous, wishes to speak with you.”

There is a sudden flurry of sound behind the door, one of bed covers being tossed and the ‘clip-clop’ of hooves rapidly meeting the floor. “Please come in!”

You step forward and open the door, letting it silently swing inward as you get a glimpse of Sergeant Lazuli.

A mare with a rich blue coat stands at the foot of the bed with a stern face, her right hoof on her brow in a smart salute. Her mane and tail are pure white, and both glitter with the Heart’s magic as if filled with diamond dust. Her eyes are blue as well, being a few shades lighter than her coat. Her muzzle and cheeks are dotted with little white speckles. Like most other guards, her body is lean, whipcord muscle borne of harsh training and too little food. She sports a lance cutie mark with a laurel wreath framing the lance itself, and speckles like the ones on her face are scattered around her rump.

“Cor-Sergeant Lazuli, at your command, Highness!” She trips over her new rank and remains in a stiff salute.

“At ease, Sergeant,” you wave a hand, prompting the mare to relax and drop her hoof. “I wanted to visit and give you my thanks for your heroism. Without your bravery, who knows how long it could have taken to recover the Crystal Heart. Both I and the entire empire owe you more than you can imagine.” You incline your head with a smile.

Her eyes widen. “My King, please! I-I’m happy to serve!” She raises a hoof and frantically tries to wave off your gratitude. “No thanks are needed.”

“Truly?” You raise an eyebrow. “I was told that the final defense around the Heart was an illusion that shows you your worst fears come to life. It takes someone brave to acknowledge their fears, but it takes someone heroic to face them head-on for the good of others.”

Lazuli doesn’t argue, but instead looks away, biting her lip.

“Quill, Nurse?” you look back to the other ponies in the room. “Can the sergeant and I have a moment alone?”

Quill inclines her head. “Of course, we’ll vacate immediately.” Her part said, your Attendant and the nurse both bow out and close the door behind them.

You turn back to Lazuli, who fidgets under your gaze. “What did you see?”

“Huh?” She blinks at the unexpected question. “Sire?”

“When you recovered the Heart and had to brave the magic Sombra had defending it, what did you see, Lazuli?” You gently ask. “What did you have to conquer?”

The mare is silent and looks down at her hooves. After a long, quiet minute, she gulps and looks up. “I saw it never ending…”

“Never ending?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What never ended?”

“Sombra…” She whispers, eyes glazing over. “I saw years pass by in an instant. Ponies starving, ponies dying in the mines, my family withering, foals growing up not knowing what life other than slavery is like. I saw it going on forever until I... died and was thrown out into the cold to rot.” She unsteadily sits on her rump. “I couldn’t let it happen. I had to find the Heart, I had to break the cold, even if it killed me,” she shivers.

“Even if it killed you?” You press.

“Even if it killed me,” she snarls, her voice suddenly gaining strength before she falters again. “Sire… On the first day of your rule, I woke up just long enough to see the sun as it set. It was the first time in seven years I’ve been able to feel the warmth of the sun without the chill of the tundra reminding me what I - we live under. I…” She trails off, her face troubled. “I’ve wanted nothing more for both myself and everypony else for years.”

Despite how tempted you are to hug Lazuli, you get the feeling that the guardsmare might find the gesture demeaning, so instead you kneel down and reach a hand out to gently run it through her mane.

She gasps and looks up at you. With her blue fur, the tiny blush that runs across her muzzle is a curious purple. “Sire?”

“You’re not only a brave mare, but a virtuous one as well, Lazuli,” you smile and rub a thumb behind her ear. “I was told Sombra disbanded his personal guard detail out of distrust, and I plan on reinstating said detail with the best guardsmares there are. I’d like to have you as part of it, if you're willing.”

The sergeant’s eyes widen and seemingly sparkle, then she shakes her head as if clearing an annoying thought. “Sire, you honor me, but shouldn't that go to a guard with more experience? I’m just a cor- er, sergeant. Your thanks alone is enough of a reward. I feel even the promotion you’ve given me is too much.”

“Do you not want the position, Sergeant?” You ask, standing and withdrawing your hand. “I understand and I’m not upset if you don’t.”

“I do! I do want it, but I want what’s best for the empire, not for me!” She says, standing on all four hooves again. “His Highness should be surrounded by elites, not by rank-and-file.”

You snort. “I happen to think your actions are those of an elite, Sergeant. Perhaps the word has a different definition between you and me, but the willingness to act and do what’s necessary is something I value. I’ll ask again, would you like to be a Royal Guard? If the answer is no, I won’t be upset, but I would enjoy having you.”

Lazuli looks down at the floor, visibly conflicted.

“You don’t have to decide right now. If you’d like time to think it over, the offer remains open,” you tell her as you stand back to your full height. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you properly, Sergeant Lazuli. Take care.” You turn and begin walking to the door.

“Your Majesty?”

You stop and look back just as you put a hand on the door handle.

Lazuli takes a deep breath and steels her posture. “I would be honored to guard you with my life, Your Majesty. If you will have me, then I will serve until the end of my days.”

You can’t help but smile. ‘Brave, humble, and able to make a decision when called on. I need a champion the ponies of the Empire can identify with, and you’re beyond perfect, sergeant.’ Outwardly, you say; “Your reply gladdens me, Sergeant. I’m overjoyed to have a mare with your nerve at my side.”

The guardsmare inclines her head. “Thank you. Shall I recite the Oath of the Royal Guard, Sire?”

“Oath of the Royal Guard?” You ask with a blink. “Do the guard not take an oath of service when they enlist?”

“We do, Sire.” Lazuli looks up, her big blue eyes meeting yours. “We are sworn in as defenders of the Empire, but being a Royal Guard is an entirely different and supremely important matter.”

You nod absently. ‘A second oath? Does it override the first one? Or is it worded in such a way that the two don’t conflict?’ You ponder for a moment before deciding to play it safe. “I understand. Would you oppose having Emerald Quill as a witness?”

“Not at all, Sire,” she shakes her head, and much like Quill’s mane did, Lazuli’s white locks glitter in the light.

With another nod, you reach back and crack open the door. “Quill? Can you come in?”

“Yes, Sire!”

You open the door a bit wider so Quill might slip through, and once the mare is at your side, you shut it again and look down to meet Quill’s curious eyes. “Quill, the good sergeant here has just agreed to be the first of my Royal Guard, and I’d like you to be here as a witness to affirm the authenticity of her oath.”

The green-maned mare gives you an inquisitive look before it’s replaced with dawning understanding. “Ah, of course! I would be delighted to assist, Your Majesty.” She smiles and nods before turning to Lazuli. “Do you know the Oath, guardsmare?”

Lazuli gives Quill a single sharp nod. “Yes, Madam Minister.”

“Then please proceed.”

The blue-coated guard steps forward and clears her throat. “It is in service to my nation that I find happiness, and in service to my King that I find meaning. To be a proud Royal Guard is how I am joyously born anew, and to be a life well spent by my King is how I die with contentment. With these words spoken true, I, Lapis Lazuli, do swear to obey and protect my King and his domain until this body crumbles and returns to Mother Equis. Vur shoam li’zam!”

Your skin tingles and your cloak ruffles as an invisible wind blows from Lazuli. Deep inside the blue mare’s translucent body, a beautiful light shines with her words, growing until her final line, where they become so radiant it’s as if a blue sun blooms to life for an instant. You move to cover your eyes with an arm, but the light fades as fast as it came.

Well, you weren’t expecting that. Learning about magic is swiftly jumping up to become your top priority.

Lazuli pants as if a sudden exhaustion has overcome her. She sways on her hooves but catches herself.

“Are you okay, guardsmare Lazuli?” Quill takes a single step forward. “The Oath is quite a rush, or so say the old guard.”

The sergeant takes a steadying breath. “Thanks for your concern, Madam Minister, but I’m fine. I feel…” She shakes her coat like a dog might, starting from her head and going to her rear. The light streaming in from the window refracts through her mane, tail, and body, making a beautiful lightshow. She takes another deep breath that makes the tuft of fluff on her chest swell. “I feel good. Great, even.”

“Pardon my ignorance on the matter,” you interject, feeling faintly embarrassed to have to ask. “But what just occurred? Some sort of magic, obviously, but for what purpose, I have no idea.”

“No pardon needed, Majesty.” Quill says with a charming smile. “The Oath of the Royal Guard is not just an oath, but a verbal spell keyed to the Crystal Heart. The Royal Guard are the greatest defenders of the royal family, and are thus afforded a stronger connection to the Heart so they can fulfil their duties with greater vigor.” Quill is swiftly becoming an expert at reading your face, because she answers your next question before you can even ask; “Not just anyone can take the Oath, as the Heart itself judges the intentions of the one taking the Oath. If the words are forced or uttered with other intentions in mind, the connection won’t form.”

‘Magic can sidestep the issue of trust that easily, huh?’ You huff, bemused. ‘How does the Heart read people taking the Oath? If you aren’t totally selfless, does it refuse you even if you would have been a good pick? Well, I’m not going to complain about it for now. Perhaps we can use that lie-detector aspect to clear or confirm suspected saboteurs?’ You shelve the thoughts for later and smile at Quill. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Sire,” she beams back.

You return your attention to Lazuli. “Thank you for your time, Sergeant. We’ll stop disturbing you. I’ll have Shatter Point informed of your new status so she can arrange your transfer accordingly.”

Lazuli salutes. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Get some rest, Sergeant,” you tell her kindly. “I’ll look forward to your first day on the job.” Then you turn and open the door to leave, beckoning Quill along with your hand.

Your Attendant leads you from the infirmary down to the southern wing of the palace, again passing a number of servants who bow, or guards who proudly salute. The more of the palace you see, the barer it seems. Maids are cleaning the dusty outlines of where tapestries and paintings of Sombra used to stand as best as they can. The lack of pegasi to reach the high areas means that the dust in high places simply remains until a team with a ladder can reach it. The hard-to-reach outlines are an unsettling reminder of the unicorn and pegasus expulsion.

The southern wing is where the craftsmares and engineers employed by the crown reside, and where Guildmaster Channel has consolidated the remainders of the runecrafters guild. As you walk deeper inside, the blue crystal that makes up the walls begins to fade into a dusty gray, then seamlessly transforms into stone with the only crystals being the light-emitting orbs in the ceiling. In the magic light, you can see the floating dust stirred from the sudden re-habitation of the formerly shut-down southern wing. The dust is harder to see against the stone walls, but the tickle of a sneeze that refuses to come out tells you that there is more grime than meets the eye. “Quill, please have some maids come down here and assist with the clean-up later.”

“Yes, Sire.”

As you pass a number of closed doors, you can hear the sound of shuffling paper, clinking crystal, and rapid-fire talking filled with a head-spinning amount of arcane jargon. Why a ‘jotaz’ rune can’t be slotted next to a ‘havo’ rune when the script is greater than one millimeter, you're not sure, but someone is getting shouted at for it.

“The engineers, alchemists, and runecrafters divide themselves up into a number of groups with their own areas so their experiments and research don’t overlap,” Quill explains when she sees you panning your head around. “The stone walls are in place to keep energy leaks to a minimum, as even the crystal of the palace can cause mana contamination or parasitic drain in the more sensitive projects down here. Channel’s office should be near the end of the wing.”

And indeed, at the end of the long hallway is a large wooden door slightly ajar, and from inside you can hear quick back-and-forth chatter.

Quill’s sharp ears perk. From her frown, you get the feeling it isn’t a pleasant conversation in there.

“-ook, Channel…” The voice of an older mare sighs. You hear the sound of a hoof tapping the stone floor. “I don’t believe our… esteemed king understands the intricacies of our craft. This isn’t something the laymare can just pick up and learn. One needs a steadiness of both mind and hoof to make the world dance to the music-sheet that is runecraft.”

“W-Well…” Channel’s nervous voice comes from behind the door as well. “His Highness has ordered it, so none of us are in any position to disobey. He understands that if the Empire is to survive, then we can only overcome our numbers shortage with magic!”

Another sigh, this one sounding male. “Channel, dear…” A stallion says with a honeyed voice. “It’s wonderful that Sombra is gone. The dirty old despot has hurt all of us, you especially with Golden Fleece’s passing…”

You hear Channel’s breath hitch.

“...But remember what listening to the last king did to us…”

“Fractal.” The unknown mare’s voice is severe. “Still your tongue. The walls have ears and such speak is but one step away from treason.”

You take that moment to let your few remaining footfalls land heavily on the stone floor, silencing any further talk as you and Quill approach. You grab the door handle and pull the door the rest of the way open, letting yourself in.

Inside an office filled with countless scrolls, books, and mountains of flat crystal slates, Channel looks up at you with clear relief from behind her cramped desk, so filled with clutter. Her two colleagues turn to see what she’s looking at before stiffening.

Channel herself is already looking healthier after just a few days bathing in the Crystal Heart’s magic. Her white coat shines like brilliantly polished quartz and her strawberry-blonde mane is like liquid topaz. Her green eyes shine a shade lighter than Quill’s with her glasses are currently absent, lying folded on her cluttered desk between a spinning crystal globe and a foot-tall spiky tree of ruby coated in runes. Other magical doodads you have no name for sit on her desk, like a clear crystal pyramid with a rolling rainbow of light inside and a currently inert, seemingly mundane stone that you’re sure does something.

The unnamed mare in a red cloak like Channel’s looks up at you with apprehension. Her face is wrinkled in age and her dull garnet eyes are sunken. Her speckled graphite mane and tail are both tied in tight buns. So tight are they, that neither bun moves as she sways gently on her hooves.

‘Fractal’ by contrast is rather youthful, though is visibly older than Channel. Like the other two craftsponies, he too wears a red cloak that covers his sparkly and well-cared for aquamarine coat. His amethyst eyes look between the older mare and you, silently asking the older mare for help.

“Your Highness!” Channel takes the initiative and stands from behind her desk with a delighted smile. “Thank you for being so prompt! I was just talking about… erm…” She loses some steam as she looks back to the other two ponies in her office. “Your proposal to help the runecrafters grow.”

Seems like you’re finally getting some pushback. Your ministers have all been very straightforward so far, having just been liberated and all, but you suppose it’s inevitable that not everyone would be pleased with your new policies. That discontent number will grow as you keep making changes. ‘I suppose that's just a bridge I’ll have to cross when I get there.’

“No thanks needed, Guildmaster. Your problems are my problems, after all,” you give Channel a smile before looking down to Fractal and the still-unnamed mare. “Good morning to you two. Might I have your names?”

The stern mare clears her throat. “Your Majesty, I am Baroque of the minor house of Pearl, 3rd seat of the Arcane Board of the Crystal Empire. With me is Fractal, newly promoted adept of the runecrafters.” Rather than bow, she simply inclines her head, albeit deeply.

“H-Hello, King Anonymous…” Fractal’s bravery flees him. He puts up a fragile smile and taps a rear hoof against the floor in a nervous staccato.

You nod to the two. “A pleasure to meet you. Now, I apologize for eavesdropping, but it sounds like we happened upon a disagreement. Perhaps Quill and I can assist in it’s resolution?”

Baroque hides her grimace well. “Your Majesty, we were just discussing the issues regarding the applicant pool of potential runecrafters. You see, runecraft is work akin to an artform. It’s not something just anypony can pick up and learn. Tempting commoners in with the promise of high pay when they do not have the passion or cutie-marks required to excel will only create a surplus of lower-grade crafters. The selection process will need to be much more nuanced if we are to succeed.” She says. “Perhaps an example is in order?”

“I would be delighted to hear it, ma’am,” you tell her with genuine curiosity. If runecraft is similar to magical programming, then this can only be interesting. “My education in magic is still growing, however, so please explain how you might to an apprentice.”

The old mare gives you an uncertain, almost uncomfortable glare, but reaches a hoof into her cloak and produces a flat slab of quartz inlaid with a number of carvings. The carvings themselves are filed with black ink, showing six distinct characters surrounded by wrapping circles of intricate, blockly script. One of the large runes glows a faint green.

“This, Sire, is a monitoring slate,” Baroque seats herself on her rump so she can lift her other hoof and tap the topmost rune. “Here, we have a receiver rune, to which is beamed an ethereal manastream from one of my workstations. The manastream is ethereal to allow it to pass through walls unhindered and compressed into a waveform of an unused frequency so as to not disrupt other monitoring equipment. Down here,” she slides her hoof to the right, over a line of script leading to the next rune. “This rune rematerializes the ethereal mana into raw mana, which then flows to this rune,” she slides to the next blocky character. “This one separates some of the mana to use as energy to power the slate, and then removes an encapsulated stream of information in the mana and forwards it to one of these simple light-producing runes, telling me the progress of an experiment I left alone.” The script of this rune spiderwebs out to the remaining three, one of which is glowing green. “Depending on the signal in the information stream, one of the runes lights up. Green is to indicate that the intended experiment is still running, yellow is for an error, and red is for a total disconnection.”

‘…’ Your mouth drops open as you realize the versatility of the magic before you. “Wireless transmission of energy and information through solid mediums, all running without interference from other devices…” You murmur aloud, rubbing your chin. Your mind whirls the possibilities and how many engineering hurdles that can sidestep. “Thats…”

“Complicated,” Baroque sniffs. “And this is merely a common apparatus that any apprentice can make. We appreciate your earnest attempts to assist the Empire’s craftsponies, m’lord, but we cannot simply open the floodgates. Many simply do not have the talent and will find themselves miserable and unproductive if forced by the idea of a paycheck in harsh times.”

What you thought was going to be a petty argument turned out to be a solid defense from Baroque. Most people you know would let their eyes glaze over halfway through her explanation. How the average sapient equine in a pre-industrial era would handle this information…

‘That, and these ‘cutie-marks’ have to be considered as well…’ You bite your lip in thought. “Quill?” You look down to your attendant. “To my understanding, a ‘cutie-mark’ is a manifestation of a pony’s talent, correct?”

“Yes Sire, that’s a textbook definition.” Quill nods. “Though, I think the explanation you're looking for is a bit deeper than that. The mark is an expression of one’s soul on a quite literal level.” She turns to the side, putting her gilded quill mark on display. Against her gray-tinted diamond coat, the golds and greens stand out sharply. “I was born to fulfill an administrative position such as Royal Attendant.”

“So if a pony finds themselves in a job they don’t enjoy…” You leave the sentence hanging.

“Then they won’t find much success there.” Quill finishes with a nod.

Well shit. ‘You can take any old joe off the street and train him to do almost anything for enough pay back home.’ You put your arms under your cloak to ward off the chill that seems to permeate through the southern wing. “Hrm. Perhaps I’m not approaching the issue like a pony. Very well. How about an amendment to my order? We still want as much new blood as possible, so beginner courses will still be funded by the crown. If any interested parties show talent and/or a passion for runecraft, then we can arrange a scholarship for their continued education. If not, then they’re free to go afterwards. With this, we can still scoop up much of the available talent without overburdening the runecrafters with an abundance of low-level members. Is this an acceptable compromise?”

Baroque visibly mulls your words over. She looks down at the floor, then back up to your face. “That is… acceptable, your Majesty. We are grateful for your graciousness, and we will inform the rest of the Arcane Board of your decision.”

Next to her, Fractal nods his head rapidly, making his purple mane bounce.

“Excellent, thank you,” you smile slightly. Evidently, that’s not the answer she wanted. Before the older mare and Fractal can leave, a thought strikes you. ‘This might keep them busy for a while. At least long enough for me to get a handle on the inner workings of this ‘Arcane Board’,’ you think to yourself. “Madam Baroque? A question for you. What’s the approximate range of the ethereal mana streams you mentioned?”

The crystal mare seems poleaxed by the question. Beside her, Fractal tilts his head quite adorably almost in sync with Channel. “Thirty or so meters, my liege. Why do you ask?”

“Tell me, is there any system in place to act as signal boosters for these streams? I recall the communication arrays within the armor of the guards having quite impressive range,” you say, recalling how Lieutenant Aegis managed to give orders from across the entire city.

Baroque sighs and shakes her head. “The communication arrays use true mana beams with an induced waveform to carry the sound. The guards more or less need a direct line of sight with the top of the palace where the master array is in order to receive orders. The pull of the planet’s background magic begins to disrupt ethereal manna streams the closer you come to forty meters. After fifty, one would be lucky to have anything.”

‘So, they have wireless transmission of energy and information, but range becomes an issue? How did Aegis issue her orders from inside the throne room then?’ You nod. “I understand. Madam Baroque. Can the induced waveform used in true mana beams be encapsulated like the information in an ethereal stream? If so, I have not one but two projects I would like you and the runecrafters to begin researching when possible.”

The old mare raises an eyebrow. “It can certainly be done, my liege. Why do you ask?”

“Poor communication is the first loop in the hangman’s noose during a crisis, and the limitations of the current communications array are unacceptable,” you raise an arm in a grandiose gesture. “What I am wanting is a communications network first for the entire palace, and then expanded out into the city. I want you to create a network of... ‘switches’ designed route, boost, and modulate ethereal stream waveforms. Ideally, these switches will be able to negotiate which switch handles what connection, then communicate the shortest possible path for a stream to take when hopping between points without signal loss.” You put your arm down. “Afterward, I would like to request a retrofit of the communication arrays inlaid in the armor of our brave guardsmares to utilize this network. With all of this in place, we would have-”

“-Wide-spanning communications and information transfer without the need for static hubs and channel-lines…” Baroque raises a hoof and cups her lower muzzle in thought. “That… is a novel idea, my King. Where did you come up with such a thing?”

‘Hubs and channel lines, eh? Some sort of solid transmission medium maybe? Sounds like these might be another limitation to overcome.’ You smile a bit ruefully. “A borrowed concept from my home. Without the ability to utilize magic, humanity had to learn how to transfer information using alternative methods when pen and paper began to prove itself too slow.”

‘I hope she can work the details out. This is all pretty bastardized, as I’m sure smashing a router and a switch together would make a messy machine back home. Maybe the flexibility of magic can smooth that out? The sooner we set-up an intranet facsimile, the faster I can respond to issues.’

“How would such a thing even begin to work?” Fractal timidly asks.

Channel, who has been silent the entire time so far, finally speaks up. “That would… require some sort of protocol in place to prevent congestion and collision between the streams. Streams on their way to a destination will need some sort of ID of their own along with an ID assigned to the destination.” She turns in her chair and snatches one of the crystal slabs behind her before producing a stylus of quarts from a desk drawer. Setting the slab down, she begins scribbling across it with the stylus held in her lips, making lines of writing formed from light in the sheet of crystal. “The protocol would need to be built with a rune to read these IDs, relay that information into the rune matrix of the switch, which would then communicate with the other switches in range to resolve the shortest path, then negotiate a path that doesn’t cause signal loss or collision. Maybe include a table of all connected runic arrays that can send and receive...” On Channel’s tablet, a mock-up diagram of circles connected by lines rapidly takes form. “How incredible… This would solve so many logistical problems we have! Oh! Perhaps we can even mock-up a central location to hold encapsulated information for later use and retrieval over this network…”

Baroque regards her rambling Guildmaster with frustration while poor Fractal is beginning to look lost.

At your side, Quill rolls her eyes and clears her throat, making Channel blush and put her stylus down with a quiet click.

“H-ha, maybe we can go over that later.” The blonde guildmaster smiles sheepishly. “We’ll get to it as soon as we can, Sire.”

“Thank you, Guildmaster,” you say, shuffling your cloak a little bit over your shoulders. “I think I’ve put enough on your plate. You said you had news for me?”

Channel’s smile drops into something nervous, a thin mask over obvious dread. “Y-Yes, Highness. Baroque? Fractal? We’ll talk more later, this is something for just the king.”

The older mare raises an imperious eyebrow, but makes no verbal argument as she trots to the door with Fractal on her heels. “Very well, Guildmaster. Good day to you, My King, Minister Quill.” She says as she steps out.

Fractal stops to give you a quick bow, then hastily follows Baroque while shutting the door behind him.

After the sound of hooves on stone fades into the distance, Channel gulps and looks up at you with large, frightened eyes. “Your Majesty? I don’t know how to explain this…”

You step a little closer, concern worming its way into your gut. “The beginning is usually a good place,” you joke, trying and failing to break the tension.

The young mare sighs shakily. “A-After the Crystal Heart’s barrier went back up, I had some of the few apprentices we could spare go and check the perimeter and the area just beyond the dome. They took a few scanning wands with them, and when they returned the results on the wands were… out of sorts.”

“Out of sorts?” Quill blinks. “How so?”

Channel shifts in her chair in discomfort. One of her ears flick, throwing strands of her topaz mane around. “You can tell a lot about an area from the ambient mana in the air. The wands picked up the usual, like mana density, the abundance of ice-aligned natural mana, things like that. One thing we found was puzzling, while what we didn’t find caused concern.” The Guildmaster raises a hoof and rubs the collar of her hooded red cloak. “We picked up what was undoubtedly alicorn mana, as it was simply too powerful to be anything else. We analyzed the samples from the remnants of the spell the Equestrian Princesses cast to stop Sombra, and erm, the lingering threads gave us a funny result. There was definitely some sort of sealing spell used, but the frayed remains pointed towards something… temporal. The next find began to cause alarm. Sombra’s dark mana was nowhere to be found.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You ask, crossing your arms under your cloak. A lot of this is going over your head, but you think you're following along well enough. Your plans to study magic keep moving higher and higher on your list of things to do. “If there are no signs of him, that means no lingering spells or curses, right?”

“Right, but this was outside of the Heart’s barrier.” Channel stresses ‘outside’. “Unchanneled dark mana has a famously long half-life, lingering with noticeable effects for decades after saturation of an area. Even after a few hundred years, you can still find traces with the right tools.”

Your concern begins to grow into something more profound. Knowing and seeing magic firsthand has opened your mind to all sorts of fanciful leaps of logic that land in wonderful places, but now you realize that there’s another side to that coin.

‘Oh shit. What happened outside the Empire?’

“I-I had them scan again, and we got the same results. I wanted to dismiss the whispers starting, so I w-went out deep into the tundra, away from the barrier and scanned again, getting nothing.”

Channel’s eyes are growing wild, so you reach across her desk to place a hand in her wither, making her breath hitch. “Slowly, Channel. Slowly.” You whisper, feeling as if you already know where this might be going. “Just take it easy.”

The too-young mare takes a deep breath, and through your hand, you can feel her trembling. “I dug through the ice to acquire a soil sample and brought some back to compare it against a sample extracted in the Empire, just so I could get the rumors to stop. Officially, I found nothing. Unofficially? H-Highness…” She looks up at you, green orbs full of fright. “The soil outside is chrono-dated to be over a thousand years older than the Empire. Whatever spell the Equestrian Princesses used to stop Sombra froze us in time for a millennium.”

For a moment, you’re silent. Your mind whirls and buzzes, grappling with the bombshell just dropped upon you. You totally miss Quill’s mouth dropping open.

“Quill, Channel,” you slowly take your hand off of Channel’s wither and stand straight. “As of right now, this information is a state secret. Under no circumstances is this to be spoken to another soul, understand?”

Quill gulps silently. “Yes, Highness.”

Channel demurely nods.

“Good.” You lick your dry lips. “Round up the Ministers. I want a meeting started five minutes ago.”

END CH3