The Only Mark That Matters

Potion Nova heard a familiar set of hoofsteps approaching her office and braced herself. Radish Root swung open her door.

“Major, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, straining to smile.

“I had a few more thoughts about the starcium heists.”

“Oh. Again?”

“I know, we’ve been over it a lot, but look-”

He put an old tome down on her desk with the pages opened to a three hundred-year-old recipe for a never-ending fire potion.

“You could set all of Canterlot on fire with this, and the fire would never end.”

“Major, that potion was a hoax. Nopony ever made one that worked.”

“What if you replaced this ingredient- transuranic copper- with starcium?”

“Uh… probably nothing?”

“Could you try it?”

“Major, no. I’d have to clear an experiment like that with the Greater Equestria Potions Board, and the High-Energy Reactions Commission, and I’d have to give them both a good reason for doing it. And they both will probably say no unless the other says yes. Kind of a paradox, huh?”

“If the starcium thieves can make never-ending fire potion, we have to know.”

Potion Nova sighed.

“I’ll put in the paperwork, but I really think you’re barking up the wrong tree with this.”

“Thank you, Po No. Wait… tree? If you injected the Tree of Harmony with starcium, could it produce replicas of the Elements of Harmony? Or maybe evil versions, like Elements of Disharmony?”

“Twilight’s the one who knows about the Tree. You should ask her that.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Are you two still at odds?”

“We’re not at odds. I’m giving her space to realize what a terrible mistake she’s making with Glimmer.”

“Don’t punish Twilight for being Twilight.”

“Oh, nopony gets punished these days. Everypony just gets a nice fat pardon no matter what.”

“Radish, pouting isn’t very guard-like.”

“Got any anti-pout potion?”

“Yes, but it’s prescription-only.”

“You write prescriptions, don’t you?”

“Ah, major, I thought I’d find you here,” said Princess Celestia, entering the office. “Come with me. I have a new assignment for you.”

“New assignment? But I’m not done with-”

Celestia had already left.

“You’d better see what she wants,” said Potion Nova.

“Keep the book,” said Radish. He caught up to Celestia in the main commons.

“Major, you must stop pestering palace staff with your wild hypothesizing.”

“I’m simply trying to exhaust all possibilities to ensure the safety of my princesses.”

“What you are exhausting is everyone’s patience. That’s why I’m taking you off the case.”

“What!? It’s my case!”

“No, it’s not. There are many working to recover the starcium. You’ve done more than your share investigating this, and have provided us with excellent leads. But now you’re chasing scattershot ideas and interrupting everypony else’s work. It’s time to let others take over with fresh eyes and clear heads.”

“I delivered that starcium right into enemy hooves! It’s my duty to get it back!”

“You did not, and it is not. The entire supply chain was outmaneuvered by a clever enemy. Your duty now lies elsewhere.”

“Princess!”

“Don’t ‘princess’ me, major!”

Radish hung his head.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“I accept your apology. I appreciate how much you care about this, but now I have something else for you to care about.”

“What’s my new assignment?”

“Prince Blueblood has asked for you personally as his bodyguard for the next few days.”

“Me? He doesn’t like me.”

“I believe your recent press has elevated you in his estimation.”

“Hmm. Great. Will he be coming here, or am I going to his villa?”

“Neither. You’re accompanying him to Mote Island. For a party. A music festival.”

“Princess?”

“As my nephew, he is allowed use of my guards, major. I could deny him… but he’s family.”

“How are you related, again?”

“It’s complicated. But it’s legitimate.”

“And you’re sure he asked for me, specifically?”

“Radish, it’s a yacht cruise to a tropical island festival. Most guards dream of such an assignment.”

“It’s just… he’s a bit impulsive. And self-centered. And immature.”

“Perhaps your finer qualities will rub off on him.”

“I can’t promise that, but I swear I’ll do my best to protect him.”

“Thank you, Radish. Oh, and one other thing- the prince has requested Philomena come along as well.”

“Your phoenix? Why?”

“They’re quite fond of each other. I have no objection to her getting out of the palace- she should enjoy the island. But be cautious around her. She’s been in a mood lately.”

“All right. Do I get Elite armor on this?”

“Metal armor isn’t recommended for a boat. See Chandler, he has a few things for you.”

“Oh, new gadgets? That sounds fun.”

“Next time I’ll just open with that.”

Radish met the Quartermaster in his workshop. It was particularly busy, and numerous technicians were working on a variety of weapons parts and armor pieces.

“So, Celestia says you have some stuff for me?”

“Yep. This isn’t the first time BB has wanted guard escorts on cruises. The challenge is to outfit the guard with weaponry and armor that is surreptitious, effective, and nautically appropriate.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

He took Radish over to a dummy. It was covered in an overcoat of a thick matte beige material.

“This silk caparison has a layer of chainmail made from lacquered quebracho. That’s the hardest wood we can work with. It won’t overheat you in the tropical climate of Mote Island, and it should double as a floatation device if you fall off the yacht… which happens to Blueblood’s guards a lot. Remember to maintain three points of contact to the boat at all times.”

“What about my weapons?”

He held up a short stick on a strap.

“This is a retractable baton. It straps to your wrist, to be concealed by your sleeve. Just flick it out and you’re good to go.”

“It’s wood, too?”

“Yep.”

“I was armed to the teeth for the starcium escort, and needed every last weapon. Now they want me guarding royals with a stick? Why?”

“Three reasons. One, Mote Island is griffon territory, and they don’t want ponies armed with lethal weapons visiting. Two, there’s a lot of heavy drinking and substance use on BB’s yacht and at the festival, so the fewer dangerous things he and his guests can get his hooves on, the better. And three, uh…”

He looked around, and motioned for Radish to come into whisper distance.

“Everyone in the palace thinks you’re a bit high-strung these days. PC and PL would like you to be a little less lethal for the time being.”

“Oh! Great! The princesses want their guards to be less lethal. Why don’t they just get grade schoolers to stand next to the thrones?”

“Major, there is one thing I can do. Check this out.”

He pulled a shoebox off a shelf, and took out a single left boot.

“This is our prototype sleep dart blowgun.”

“Oh! You made it already?”

“Yep. Put your lips here and blow. Try it.”

Radish put on the boot, and blew into a hole in the side. A short red dart flew out and hit the wall.

“That would knock out most large ungulates. But, uh… don’t let BB use the darts… recreationally.”

“Sheesh.”

Radish entered the Royal Aviary, a massive open-air sanctuary with ornate gates. The Royal Petkeeper met him on the other side.

“Major! Right this way.”

She led him to a grove of trees.

“Philomena, dear? Your escort has arrived.”

A warbling squawk emanated from branches above. It sounded vaguely questioning. The Petkeeper looked Radish up and down. She craned her head to look at his backside.

“Oh, I’d say so!”

Like a flaming dart, a streamlined red phoenix shot out of the trees and landed on the Petkeeper’s outstretched hoof. The bird cocked her angular head at Radish, and squawked angrily.

“No? Oh, well. Major, allow me to introduce Philomena. Philomena, Major Radish Root.”

Radish took off his helmet and bowed for Philomena.

“Good day, miss. I am ready to escort you to Prince Blueblood’s yacht, and then onto Mote Island.”

Philomena leaned over and whispered something to the Petkeeper. The Petkeeper frowned, then whispered something back.

“Is everything okay?” asked Radish.

“She’s wondering about your… ability as a guard.”

Radish took out his Guard ID badge. It had stamps for his training certifications, and the flipside listed his awards.

“I’m certified for hoof-to-hoof, spears, swords, shields, and bucking daggers. I have three Iron Barding awards, two Lunar Defender ribbons, and five Mauve Hearts. In my previous service to the Plains Rangers, I was awarded two Sentry of the Land badges.”

Philomena whispered to the Petkeeper.

“Philomena!”

“What?”

“She’s saying that Mauve Hearts are only awarded to those injured in battle, so you must be…ah…”

“Unlucky?”

“She actually said, ‘a fuckup’. Sorry.”

Radish put away his ID.

“If her ladyship Philomena disapproves, then she may skip the Mote Island Music Festival. A shame- I heard Songbird Serenade is headlining.”

Philomena squawked loudly.

“She says she’ll allow you to escort her, but cut the sarcasm- she outranks you.”

“That can’t possibly be true.”

“She’s technically in the line of succession.”

Radish made an unhappy sound in his throat. Philomena made a mockingly happy one in her syrinx.

“Well, your excellency, I am at your disposal."

Radish held out his hoof for her, and she flew and landed on his nape. She got comfortable.

“Enjoy the festival, both of you.”

“Thanks, Blythe.”

Radish carried Philomena to the train platform, where hoofponies were loading Radish’s and Philomena’s things onto the train. One hoofpony approached Radish.

“Major? This is compliments of the Head Potionista.”

He passed him a case of small potions vials.

“A standard travel bag. For seasickness, wakefulness, barking dogs, and so on. She especially recommends the pink ones for digestive problems arising from foreign water. ‘Ahuizotl’s Revenge’, I believe they call it.”

“Thanks, Stanchion.”

“She added that she hopes you have a fun time at the concert.”

“Tell her I’m sorry for being a pain in the withers. I’ll bring her back a T-shirt.”

“She’ll be delighted. She’s an extra-small.”

They entered a private train car. Radish took a seat by the window, and Philomena lighted on a golden perch which had been set up for her.

“You might want to get comfortable. We’re a long way from the marina.”

Wrawrk, Philomena barked, pointing to her belly.

“Does that mean you’re hungry?”

Philomena nodded.

“We’ll get you something once we’re underway, okay?”

Radish watched the world whip by his train car window. He tested out his wrist baton, flicking it out, taking practice swings in the air, and then collapsing it back under his sleeve. Philomena watched, intrigued.

“So… Philomena….”

She looked at him.

“Do you spend much time with Celestia?”

She nodded.

“Does she ever… talk about me?”

Philomena rolled her eyes. She tucked her head under her wing and feigned sleep.

“Fine. Be that way.”

Radish leaned back. He read over what Celestia had provided regarding Prince Blueblood, the island, and the festival. It wasn’t much- Radish would have preferred to know more historical background, and he assumed she just wanted less for him to obsess over. He looked back up at Philomena, who was staring at him.

“Hey, uh… could you teach me how to speak Phoenix?”

Rrwak!

She hopped to the seat next to him. She cleared her throat, then held out a wing.

Arwark.

He shook it with a hoof.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Radish and Philomena arrived at the train station and transferred to a coach to take them to the marina. Prince Blueblood’s yacht was the largest one there- closer to a small ocean liner. The prince was on the dock, directing the hoofponies loading his luggage while sipping a tropical beverage.

“Ah! Radish Root, welcome.”

“Hello, your highness. May I present her ladyship Philomena.”

“Hey, Mena. Nice plumage this year.”

Squawk.

“I know. Go ahead and get on board. We’re casting off in a bit.”

He walked up to Radish.

“Nice ensemble, by the way. Another Chandler original?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So if I did this-!” he said, punching his hoof into Radish’s chest. Radish gasped and stepped back. The chainmail held together, but its links dug into Radish’s ribs.

Radish instinctively assumed a fighting stance. Blueblood laughed.

“Good, a tough outfit on a tough guy. That’s what I want. Let’s go.”

He led Radish up to the deck. Lounging in deck chairs on the bow were two mares- a black earth pony with a white mane, and a white unicorn with a black mane. The unicorn tipped her sunglasses down to see Radish.

“Oh, good. The help is here.”

“Help, miss? I’m here as the prince’s bodyguard.”

“Oh, fun. But seriously, I’ll take a spritzer.”

“What’s a spritzer?”

“And he does jokes, too.”

“Root, why don’t you go get us some drinks?” said Blueblood.

“Because I’m… yes, sir.”

Philomena perched on the spigot of the yacht’s wet bar while Radish busied himself with bottles and bar tools.

Squawk.

“Oh, hush. Guards obey royals. All royals. I knew that when I signed up for the gig.”

Crowawk?

“I’ve had worse jobs. One summer I was a papercolt. Had to get up hours before sunrise. At least here I get to be on a boat.”

Sqawwk?

“Besides, I like mixing drinks. Try this.”

He dipped a bar spoon into a shaker, and held it out for her to taste.

“Wait, this won’t kill you, will it?”

Grwawk.

“Okay.”

She sipped from the spoon.

“How’s it taste?”

Krawwwak!

“I know, right? It’s the citrus.”

Carrying a tray on his head, Radish rejoined Blueblood and the mares on the deck.

“Here’s your drinks, your highness.”

“Finally,” said the unicorn.

The three clinked their highball glasses and chugged.

“Ugh, what is this?” asked the earth mare, spitting it out.

“Stable Space,” said Radish. “Grenadine Splash invented the recipe.”

“Who on earth is that?” asked the unicorn.

“She’s the Royal Distiller.”

“More like Royal Dis-swill-er,” scoffed Blueblood. “Go get us some champagne to wash the taste out of our mouths.”

“The good stuff!” called the earth mare to Radish as he walked away.

Radish dug through the wine rack. Philomena watched.

“Do you know what the good stuff is?”

Rawrrk.

“Shut it. He’s Equestrian royalty. Somehow.”

Rar. Awrwar?

“Oh. I see. This was all orchestrated to teach me a lesson, wasn’t it? Trusting Twilight on Glimmer is my duty just as much as obeying Blueblood, isn’t it? Well, they’re not comparable. Blueblood is just a brat. Glimmer is a supervillain. And I’m older than Twilight, so she should listen to me.”

He found a bottle with an elaborate label.

“Think this is the good stuff?”

They both sampled it.

Awk.

“Yeah, me too.”

He carried the drinks back to the deck, and no one was there. He went inside and walked the halls until he found what looked like Princes Blueblood’s suite. There was a tie hanging on the doorknob. Radish reached for it, but Philomena slapped his face.

Rrwk.

“Why? What does a tie mean?”

Fwuk.

“Oh. Uh… let’s go… look out for pirates.”

Radish left the drinks by the door and explored the yacht, eventually finding the bridge. A stout earth stallion was at the wheel.

“Captain.”

“Major.”

“How’s it looking?”

“Clear sailing. Guessing the prince is entertaining his guests?”

“Yeah.”

“We won’t see him for the rest of the day.”

“Seriously? It’s not even noon.”

“Impressive, right? Wanna learn how to pilot?”

“Sure do.”

“Take the wheel.”

Rarwk.

Philomena perched on Radish’s shoulder.

“Hey, you two look good together. A real couple of salty dogs.”

“Thanks. So you do this all day?”

“Best job in the world, isn’t it?”

“Huh. Maybe I should have been a sailor.”

“The big horns need guards more than they need sailors.”

“The big horns don’t need anything from me. They have AG1 to save them, and failing that, a bunch of pardoned criminals.”

“A ship needs both a sturdy sail and a strong rudder to tack into the wind. The rudder may get more barnacles than sunshine, but the crew would be lost without it.”

“Hmm.”

Radish piloted the boat for a while, learning maneuvers and terminology from the captain. The ocean surface was like a clear mirror of the sunny skies above. The waves were gentle. Philomena eventually perched on Radish’s back and drifted off to sleep.

A bell on the back wall rang, loudly. Philomena woke and screeched.

“Ah, his majesty needs you,” said the skipper.

“I’m going to sound like the biggest asshole by asking this, but aren’t there any actual servants on this boat?”

“Nope. Just you, me, and the cook. He likes a skeleton crew. He likes his guard to handle as many duties as possible.”

“Thanks for the sailing lesson. Come on, Phil. Let’s attend to-”

The bell rang much more furiously.

Radish reached the prince’s door. The champagne he left was gone. Radish knocked, but there was no response. Radish waited, then tried again. No response.

“Okay, maybe he pulled the bell cord accidentally,” Radish suggested to Philomena. “I wasn’t looking forward to going in there anyway.”

The door swung open. Prince Blueblood leaned against the doorframe, carrying a rocks glass of a brown liquor in his aura. He was disheveled and sweaty.

“Oh, Root, old boy. There you are.”

“How may I serve you?”

“Come on in! We need you, badly.”

“Uh, yes sir.”

Radish entered the room. The two mares were lounging half on the couch and half on the floor. They were also disheveled and sweaty.

“Ladies, you’ve got to see this,” the prince said, leaning forward. “Go on, Root.”

“Go on and what, sir?”

“Show us your cutie marks, of course! Why do you think I wanted you on this jaunt? You’re the entertainment!”

Radish chewed his lower lip. He felt Philomena pat his back sympathetically.

“Sir, I thought-”

“Oh, go on!” said the unicorn. “Let’s see them! He’s been talking about them all day!”

“Miss, they are inappropriate for mixed company.”

“Hear that, Jelly Baby?” laughed the unicorn. “We’re mixed company!”

“And what makes them so inappropriate?” asked the earth mare, sauntering over to Radish.

“They depict two ponies in a… carnal bearing.”

The three howled with laughter. The prince buckled over and dropped his drink.

“Show us,” he said, wiping his eyes. “That’s an order.”

Radish grit his teeth.

“Sir, it’s your aunt!”

“I know. That’s what makes it so funny.”

“Ooh, her highness in a compromising position? Let’s see ‘em!” said the unicorn.

“Yes,” said the prince. “Do it.”

Radish sighed and pulled off his caparison. Philomena jumped off him and perched on a bookshelf, averting her eyes. The prince and his guests gathered around to gawk. They stared for a few seconds, then burst with riotous laughter.

“Incredible! And you got these from a boyhood dream?” asked the prince.

“I think so.”

“What a dirty child you must have been!”

“Will there be anything else, my prince?”

“Yes. The chef should be ready with dinner now. Go fetch it.”

Radish redressed and left the room. Philomena followed him, perched on his shoulder, and nuzzled his head.

“Thanks, Phil. It’s been awhile since I’ve been mocked over them.”

Kwak-wak.

“So the prince says ‘dinner’ to mean ‘lunch’, huh? I thought that was a cow thing.”

Awkk warrk.

“Oh? I should have guessed.”

Radish and Philomena entered the galley. There was a large pot of soup simmering on the stove, but no chef.

“Hello? Chef? What’s the chef’s name?”

Kraak.

“Chef le Grand? Are you in here? Must be in the bathroom. Wow, this is bigger than most landlocked kitchens. Want a snack?”

Kra.

Philomena pointed to a walk-in freezer.

“Imported ice cream? Now we’re talking.”

Radish opened the freezer. An adult male griffon in an apron was lying on the floor.

Waaak!

Radish didn’t need Philomena’s warning. He heard the assailant sneaking up behind him, and he bucked with both hind legs. His hooves met the thickly-muscled chest of a pegasus stallion, clothed in a dark blue outfit and a black balaclava. The pegasus gripped both of Radish’s hind legs and threw him across the kitchen. Radish landed on a pile of copper-bottomed pots, sending them clattering in all directions.

Philomena swooped at the pegasus, who ducked and brought his wings together with enough force to knock her out of the air. She fell, and he bucked her into the walk-in freezer.

Radish blew a sleep dart at the attacker. The pegasus dodged it, to Radish’s shock. Radish flicked out his baton and assumed his bipedal fighting stance. The pegasus snatched up a long chef’s knife from the counter. The two circled each other.

The pegasus hurled the knife at Radish’s face. Radish threw his hooves in front as a shield, and the knife struck and cracked his wood mail sleeves. Radish lowered his hooves to see the pegasus grip his head and toss Radish into the freezer. As Radish climbed to his feet, the freezer door slammed shut.

Radish punched the emergency release button on the door. It didn’t open. He bucked the door with all his might. It didn’t budge.

“Okay, what was that about, Phil? Philomena!”

Philomena was shivering on the floor. Her beak was turning blue.

“Here,” said Radish, putting her snug under his caparison, “try to stay warm. Guess freezers aren’t good for phoenixes, huh?”

k-k-kwaak…

Radish checked the chef. He was unconscious, but alive. Radish looked around the freezer.

“That guy must be after the prince. We need to get him. Do you know a way out?”

Warkk, she said, pointing to the small round window in the freezer door.

“Gotcha.”

Radish beat at the glass with a can of spinach until it shattered. He used his baton to clear out the broken glass from its edges, and slipped Philomena through the hole. She unbolted and opened the door.

“Thanks, gal.”

Radish dragged the chef out of the freezer, leaving him face-up on the kitchen floor with a bag of rice as a pillow.

“Let’s go.”

Radish bolted for the prince’s room. The door was wide open and it was empty. He heard a crash, and ran to find its source. He entered the bar, and found the attacker brawling with Blueblood across the floor. The earth mare leapt into the fray, but the pegasus bucked her, sending her into the shelves behind the bar. A hundred bottles of liquor fell on her.

The unicorn mare growled, and gripped the assailant’s neck in her aura. He flung a fork at her face, which she dodged just in time. Her aura dropped, and the pegasus flung the prince right into her. He advanced on the two, his long knife in his mouth.

Radish cracked the pegasus over the head with his wrist baton. The pegasus turned to Radish in fury and swung the knife at his throat. Radish dodged back, tripping on one of the bottles and falling on his haunches.

The prince shouted out, “Mena! Now!”

Philomena landed on Radish’s head, pulling his hood down over his eyes. She spread her wings, and a blinding bright light burst from her. The pegasus cried out, stumbling back, and the prince smashed a bottle of champagne over his head. He passed out on the floor.

Radish raised his hood to find the prince standing before him, holding out a hoof to help him up.

“Are you all right, Major Root? We were afraid he’d killed you! Damned brave of you, attacking a Destrier with a stick like that!”

He pulled Radish up off the floor. Philomena perched on the bar.

“A what?”

“They’re a group of assassins-for-hire,” said the earth mare, trotting from behind the bar. Her coat was soaked with dozens of liquors, and she shook herself dry. The unicorn took a washcloth in her aura and toweled off the earth mare’s mane.

“Yeah,” the unicorn said. “Most don’t survive an encounter with them.”

Blueblood pulled off the attacker’s mask.

“Face doesn’t ring a bell. Let’s see what he’s good at.”

He pulled down the pegasus’s trousers. His cutie mark depicted an hourglass.

“Well, that could mean anything,” he grumbled.

“Check his pits,” said the earth mare.

The prince looked at the attacker’s armpits. In the left front one was a tattoo of a green dragonfly.

“Ah, this one is high-ranking. They’re not playing around anymore. Is the chef okay?”

“Unconscious.”

“Hmm. Not even the cruelest assassin would deprive the world of Chef la Grand.”

“I’ll see to him,” said the unicorn. She pulled a medical kit off the wall and left the room.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” said Radish. “I should have been at your side. Are you hurt?”

“Not at all.”

“We need to turn this boat around and get you to safety,” said Radish. “There’s a REF outpost on Pony Skull Island- they can get you a pegasus escort back to your villa.”

The Prince laughed.

“But wouldn’t your career be over if word got out you let an assassin get this close to a prince?” Blueblood asked.

“That doesn’t matter. Your life does.”

The prince shared a look with the earth mare and the phoenix. Philomena squawked.

“Lock this fellow in the custodial closet,” Blueblood said. “Then we can plot our course.”

Radish locked up the assassin. Philomena led him to a large room on the top deck. The prince and his lady friends were standing around a circular table in the center of the room. As he entered, the prince used magic to close and lock the door, then draw shades down each porthole.

“Major, I wasn’t going to reveal any of this to you, but our friend let the cat out of the bag. And I think I’ll need as many allies in on this as I can get.”

“Sir?”

Blueblood reached under the table. Radish heard a click. The table top flipped over, revealing a detailed world map. The bookshelves along the walls slid open, and racks of weapons, tools, and miscellaneous gear for all conceivable occasions took their place. A slide projector lowered from the ceiling, and a corresponding projector screen lowered along a wall.

Radish crouched low. “What is all this?”

Philomena leapt onto the table.

Arkrkak. Kwrarkarkwarkawrraaka.

“What, really?” gasped Radish.

“Yes, major. I’m not some idle playboy. That’s just a convenient cover. I fight for Equestria’s best interests, behind-the-scenes. I use my station, my wealth, and my contacts to uncover foul plots and stave off enemies not even Celestia knows about.”

“You’re the Royal Spymaster!?”

Blueblood chuckled. “More like a royal master spy. Very few know the truth. This yacht’s captain has an inkling, but doesn’t ask questions. Chef la Grande doesn’t know. Celestia has been growing suspicious, so I was going to keep up the ruse in front of you, so you’d go back to her and report that I’m still the useless gadabout she thinks I am.”

“Why? Why not tell her?”

“She’d want me to stop. And I love her too much to stop defending her.”

Radish looked at the mares.

“And you two?”

“We’re on loan from a bureau you’ve never heard of,” said the unicorn. “I’m Jelly Baby, that’s Plucky Zither. We help each other out on missions from time to time. Usually when he needs to be seen with a pair of stunning babes to complete the playboy look.”

"So the three of you didn't really...?"

"That's none of your business, Radish," said Jelly Baby.

"But no," said Plucky Zither quickly, "we didn't. We don't."

“And the whole boorish asshole thing is just an act?”

Blueblood laughed.

“Yes, but it’s a fun act,” said the prince. “A lot of stuck-up ponies deserve to have their chains yanked.”

“Rarity didn’t.”

"Ah, but she has a lot of rivals in the fashion industry who have ties to black markets. They enjoyed watching me ruin her night, which allowed me to get close to them. I've been monitoring, exploiting, and disrupting those operations since."

"Black markets? Has any starcium passed through them?"

"Unfortunately, no. But I have a contact who has been working the starcium problem from outside Equestria. We’re going to meet at the festival. They should have some news for me.”

“Do you trust them?”

“With my life.”

“And you do this all the time?”

“All the time.”

Radish held out his hoof.

“I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

The prince shook it.

“You didn’t. You believed what I wanted you to believe. And for the record, those cocktails you made were fantastic.”

“Thanks.”

“Would you make five more? We have something to toast now.”

Potion Nova flipped through the ancient tome Radish left on her desk. She noticed a three hundred-year-old note scrawled in the margins. She pulled a magnifier over it and peered at it.

She recognized the writing- she had seen it in multiple ancient scrolls and books in the palace archives. The scribe was anonymous, but reliable- every time a researcher found a note from them, it was good information. Palace scholars took to calling the mystery writer “Scribe K”, after a distinct feature of their script.

“Let’s see… that’s the old name for starcium! Huh. Scribe K thought that it could be used to make… but then it would be able to… uh oh…”

Potion Nova felt a chill run down her spine.